Myeol Mang rose from his seat, strode over as the young writer sat, drinking his water, slamming down the chair, seated himself across from the young man. Frowning, glaring, says, "Hey, you're so young, yet why are you so rude? You only want sausage." The young writer sarcastically replies, "Oh, yes, it must be nice to be old. You don't like sausage?" Annoyed, Myeol Mang growls, "This little kid keeps talking back to me." Thinking to himself that this snot nose punk really has not a clue that he can just disappear him completely from earth permanently. Mr. Superstar stands, roughly shoves his chair into the table, says, "You're all grown up, yet picking fights everywhere." Myeol Mang matter of fact states, "Do you want to die?" The kid snappishly replies, "No. I don't want to die. That Noona will pay for it." At those timely words, exits the restaurant, leaving an irritated Myeol Mang, unbelieving that this little punk stood up for himself and seemed not the least bit intimidated. Dong Kyung hurries in with bags of groceries, sees only Myeol Mang, says, "Hey! What is this? Where did the writer go?" He merely runs a finger along the table surface, swipes for dust, blows off his finger, looks down at his lap, guiltily looking up.
Awhile later, she sends multiple texts, begging the writer to reconsider her proposal, apologizing profusely for the misunderstanding. Finally receives a text message, requesting for her to stop, that he will consider her offer, and that he is doing a face mask at that moment. Reading her text message, sighing, says, "Seriously this bastard who was born yesterday…" Myeol Mang walking a bit ahead of her, stops, hands behind his back, turns around, says, "You should've been like that earlier." Looking over at him, says, "Do you know how to function in the real world?" He responds, grinning, "It seemed like prison life instead. Is he a prison guard?" She nods, says, "Something like that, it's so stuffy. Hey but since when did you start following me? Is it from the rice cake store? Or…" Now, walking side by side, he says, "From the moment you were born. I follow humans from the moment they are born. You just caught on now. I was done with public observation, and came to do a private observation, but I ended up doing a public observation again." She stops walking, stares at him in amazement, asks, "What did you conclude after your public observation? Since you witnessed it, you need to think." He avoided answering the question, says, "How about you make a wish to get money?" She walks away, says, "If you came up with that kind of conclusion, no thanks. I'm going to use it for something really, really good. Even if it's cheap and dirty, what can I do? It's not like I am the only person living like this." Following closely behind, he asks, "Does everyone live like that?" As she walks, unable to see her face, only her sad words, "Everyone's like that. They all have their circumstances." He asks "As much as you?" Quietly responds, "I don't know if it's as much as me. But all according to their duty that they have to fulfill. All according to the weight they have to pull." She keeps walking forward, footsteps heavy, shoulders slumped, he watches as she seems so down trodden. Feeling an overwhelming desire to lift that burden, he steps forward, closer to her body…a longing to see her smile…