FITDSLR | Chapter 4

Here’s the polished English translation with improved grammar, flow, clarity, and natural novel-style narration:

Tilting his head in confusion, Gyeol quickly composed his expression once he remembered the cameras and unfolded the first card.

> The rolled omelet was seriously delicious. Amazing.

>

> (P.S.) The rolled omelet is delicious, and the owner is pretty.

Beside the slightly crooked handwriting—which looked as though it had been written by an elementary school student—was a doodle of some kind of vegetable, either a potato or a sweet potato, complete with eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Next to it was a cheerful thumbs-up drawing.

Cute.

Thinking so, Gyeol moved on to the next card.

> Excellent sportsmanship. Very impressive.

Sportsmanship?

What was that supposed to mean?

He unfolded another card.

> You were really cool during the game. I’d like to go on a date with you sometime.

Now he understood.

The previous comment about “sportsmanship” referred to him giving up victory to help Yoon Isu. Somehow, that act had been interpreted as admirable sportsmanship and earned him their favor.

Still, he never expected it to appeal not only to viewers but to the Alphas as well.

Even so, receiving every single vote during the first impression round felt excessive.

He had seen plenty of contestants receive overwhelming support at the beginning, only to crash and burn later. Yet even those contestants had never received unanimous votes.

In other words, Go Gyeol receiving every Alpha and Omega vote was highly unusual.

He wasn’t sure whether he should consider that a good thing or a bad thing.

With mixed feelings, he opened the fourth card.

> It’s been eight years.

>

> I’ve missed you.

The hand holding the corner of the card tightened slightly.

Shin Juno.

The sender might as well have left a fingerprint on the card.

SAVE ME had disbanded eight years ago.

And Shin Juno—the group’s visual member—had disappeared without a single word during the most critical period of their careers. He had been one of the direct causes of the group’s collapse.

And now he was saying he’d missed him?

Gyeol swallowed a bitter laugh.

To him, Shin Juno was the biggest coward in the world.

After Shin Juno ran away, the two of them had never seen each other again. They had not exchanged a single message or phone call.

*Without you, we’re finished.*

*Please come back.*

*How could you do this to me?*

Gyeol still remembered every text he had sent back then.

Shin Juno had never replied.

He had never answered a single call.

Then, the following year, news broke that Shin Juno had debuted in a new idol group called Moving.

As its leader.

*Shameless bastard.*

For eight years, Gyeol had dreamed of the day he could curse him out to his face.

Yet now, of all places, their reunion was happening in front of the cameras of a dating show.

His stomach burned as though he had swallowed fire.

You missed me?

It’s been eight years?

Fine.

If that’s how Shin Juno wanted to play it, Gyeol would use him just as thoroughly.

The moment Shin Juno had chosen him in the first-impression vote, he had become another opportunity to exploit.

Lowering his gaze slightly, Gyeol put on a sorrowful expression.

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something.

Then he quietly folded Shin Juno’s card and wiped away a tear gathering in the corner of his right eye with his sleeve.

Ever since transitioning into acting, shedding tears on command had become second nature.

After pretending to collect himself for a moment, he opened the final card.

> Think only of me.

>

> Because I’m thinking only of you.

The neatly written message carried an unusually direct implication.

There were four Alphas.

But five cards.

*The Catfish.*

The meaning behind the extra card was obvious.

The “catfish” concept originated from the so-called *catfish effect*—the theory that introducing a powerful new competitor could stimulate and elevate the performance of everyone else. In dating programs, it referred to a game-changing participant capable of completely disrupting the existing dynamics.

*But…*

In every previous season of *RO Connect*, the catfish participant had never expressed romantic interest right from the start.

If that was happening now, then it was likely a special twist unique to Season 10.

Deciding to play along with the producers’ intentions, Gyeol carefully counted the cards several times, acting as though he genuinely couldn’t understand what was happening.

After tilting his head in confusion a few more times, he calmly stepped away from the mailbox.

—

**—Every Alpha chose you. How does that feel?**

“I was honestly shocked. I didn’t think I’d get zero votes, but… when I opened the mailbox, it felt unusually full. For a second, I genuinely wondered if I was dreaming.”

**—People were really impressed when you gave up first place to help Yoon Isu. It seems the Alphas found that especially attractive.**

“‘Helped’ makes it sound far more heroic than it was. It wasn’t anything that dramatic. Isu is my roommate, and he looked injured, so I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m simply grateful people viewed it positively.”

**—What do you think about receiving five cards?**

“It honestly felt like a continuation of the same dream. I kept counting them over and over because I couldn’t believe it. But there really were five cards. I just kept thinking, *What? Why?* I still have no idea what’s going on. RO Connect really doesn’t hold back. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.”

—

After finishing the interview, Gyeol zipped up his hoodie and walked along the narrow trail.

Perhaps because they were near the ocean, the evening wind had become surprisingly cold after sunset.

As he followed the path, he mentally reviewed the interview.

Had he made any mistakes?

Said anything suspicious?

*Thank goodness Seong Yohan wasn’t there.*

When his turn for the interview arrived, Seong Yohan had been his greatest concern.

Personally, Gyeol doubted he could completely hide his discomfort if Yohan were present during a direct question-and-answer session.

*But where did that guy go? Did he just show up briefly and leave?*

Lost in thought, he turned onto a downhill path.

The surroundings felt bleak.

Aside from a few portable lights set up by the production crew, everything was dark and eerily quiet.

Without realizing it, Gyeol quickened his pace.

He wanted to get back to the dorm as soon as possible.

Then suddenly—

“Go Gyeol.”

Someone called out from behind him.

Gyeol nearly jumped out of his skin.

His shoulders visibly jerked upward from the shock.

The other person definitely noticed.

Embarrassed by how tightly he had instinctively grabbed his own shoulder, he brushed his arm off and turned around.

The moment he saw who it was, he experienced a second shock.

“What are you so startled for?”

An unpleasant feeling immediately followed.

“I’m not going to eat you.”

“…Mr. Seong.”

Standing with the light behind him, Seong Yohan’s face was partially obscured by shadow.

His eyes, in particular, seemed dark and unreadable, while his pupils gleamed strangely beneath the dim light, creating an inexplicable sense of pressure.

“You’ve changed.”

His gaze slowly swept over Gyeol from head to toe.

It was shamelessly direct.

Although Gyeol had deliberately adopted a more attractive image for strategic purposes, perhaps because he himself disliked the act, it felt as though Yohan were mocking him.

“…I prepared myself appropriately for the program.”

Yohan was one of the show’s executive producers.

The past was the past.

The present was the present.

Go Gyeol was no longer the inexperienced fool who couldn’t hide his embarrassment.

He couldn’t smile comfortably, but he could at least pretend to remain calm.

“Hm. Well, it seems to have worked. You received unanimous votes from the Alphas, after all.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me?”

Yohan tilted his chin upward with a short laugh.

It wasn’t amusement.

It was closer to ridicule.

“Looks like you’ve finally learned how to function in society, aspiring actor Go Gyeol—the failed idol.”

Heat surged up the back of Gyeol’s neck.

The cold wind brushing across his face only made the sensation more vivid.

*Failed idol turned aspiring actor.*

That was the nickname Seong Yohan used to call him.

The hostility was unmistakable.

The gentleman Yohan had pretended to be earlier that day had completely vanished.

Standing before him now was exactly the arrogant, overbearing man Gyeol remembered.

His face remained infuriatingly beautiful, making every cruel word feel even more jarring.

“But somehow, your acting hasn’t improved at all.”

Yohan’s voice was calm.

“The forced expressions. The artificial tone. The rehearsed gestures.”

His gaze sharpened.

“None of it feels real.”

This had been Gyeol’s greatest concern from the moment Yohan appeared.

He could fool other people.

But not Seong Yohan.

As long as Yohan sat in the producer’s chair, could Gyeol really deceive him through acting?

“So you’re going to keep performing like that?”

The answer arrived far sooner than expected.

Grinding his teeth, Gyeol stared straight back at him.

Silence stretched between them.

His mind raced desperately for a way out, but nothing came.

Then—

“Huh? What are you two doing here?”

A completely unexpected savior appeared.

The youngest staff writer emerged from the top of the slope and waved cheerfully after spotting them.

“I ran into Mr. Go on the way up and was just saying hello.”

Yohan immediately smiled, eyes curving warmly.

The transformation was flawless.

Nothing remained of the intimidating man from moments earlier.

“Oh, you came up to the set? You don’t need to! Everyone’s packing up already!”

Soon, more staff members appeared behind the writer.

“Well then, Mr. Go. Get some rest.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Yohan extended his hand for a handshake.

Gyeol didn’t want to take it.

But he had no choice.

“…It was nice meeting you, PD Seong.”

Under unbearable tension, he clasped Yohan’s hand.

The hand was just as large as he remembered.

Clenching his jaw, Gyeol struggled to suppress the memories flooding back.

*Is rubbing your lips together really that difficult? Are they made of gold or something?*

The memory of the man’s breath lingering near his lips.

*Failed idol turned aspiring actor, Go Gyeol.*

The crushing strength of the hand gripping his.

*At this rate, you’ll spend your entire life at the bottom. Even the title of unknown actor is wasted on you.*

But this wasn’t the past.

This was reality.

“It was nice meeting you too, Mr. Go.”

The warmth wrapped around his palm so completely it felt as though it might leave a burn.