Defective Banana - Chapter 41

Shim Miok pressed a hand to her forehead and spoke in a frail voice.

“Sorry, I suddenly feel so dizzy… just a moment.”

Then she leaned her head against Kang Seohyuk’s shoulder, subtly pushing up her chest with her arm so it looked even fuller in his line of sight—making sure he noticed.

Seohyuk let out a long breath. Then, without warning, he slid his hands under her and lifted her up with ease.

“Oh my, Actor Kang…”

Miok’s heart leapt. Was he going to carry her straight into the bedroom?

…Except, nope. Big mistake on her part. With a completely flat expression, Seohyuk set her right back down on the sofa, ran a hand through his hair, and didn’t even look impressed.

Honestly, she wanted to snap at him—ask why the hell he kept rubbing his ass against her and what on earth he thought he was doing. But she didn’t want to waste the energy. Instead, she swallowed her irritation and kept her tone calm.

“I’m just… a little tired. Pick a bag for me yourself, and I’ll sit here a bit. I’ll leave when I feel better.”

“What?”

Messing up his hair and squinting at her, he eventually trudged out of the dressing room. Left alone, Miok sat there, debating. Should she just follow him into the bedroom?

Then her eyes landed on something—the black phone sitting on the side table next to the sofa.

She could still hear Seohyuk moving away. Quickly, she grabbed the phone and held it tight in her hand.

Should I pretend I’m bringing him his phone… and then just strip and jump him?

But just as the thought flashed through her head, that mysterious woman popped into her mind again.

First things first—she needed to figure out exactly who that woman was to Kang Seohyuk. And what kind of dirt she had on him that made him trail after her like a dog on a leash.

Where should she start?

Seohyuk was usually glued to his phone, never careless with it. If he’d left it behind like this, it had to be a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Her pulse quickened.

She turned on the screen and went straight to his messages.

The most recent chat made her eyes go wide—someone saved as Ara.

[Ara, please pick up the phone.]

Her gut told her—this was the woman.

Scrolling down, the messages only got worse.

[I want to hold you and sleep all day.]
[Can I come see you for a bit? I miss you so much.]
[I dreamed of you last night. Do you know how many times we did it in the dream?]
[I could even feel the warmth in your mouth. So damn warm.]

And her replies? Even filthier.

[Guess you can get it up just fine in your dreams, huh?]
[Or did you only get hard in the dream after I hit you?]
[Don’t tell me you just shot your load in my mouth because it was “just a dream”?]

Miok’s face burned—not from embarrassment, but from white-hot jealousy.

“In… in the mouth?”

And that part about him only getting hard if he was hit—her eyes snapped wide open.

Kang Seohyuk, the untouchable top star… can only get it up if someone hits him? Wait—does that mean, back in the parking lot, he let himself get slapped on purpose? Just to get hard? And that’s why he didn’t react to me today?

Determined to dig deeper, she kept scrolling until she found something from an art museum.

[Hera Museum – Baek Ara art purchase list, total 9 pieces]

Baek Ara? So Ara’s her full name… she’s an artist? This man’s lost his damn mind. How much did this cost him? What a complete sucker.

She lifted her head, eyes narrowing at a strange painting hanging in the dressing room.

It had to be hers.

The image of Seohyuk back in that Busan hotel elevator came rushing back—his restless hands, the giddy smile, the way he hugged Baek Ara tight, whispered in her ear, slung an arm around her shoulder.

Maybe he wasn’t being blackmailed at all. Maybe… he really had feelings for her.

The sting of betrayal hit hard.

Miok set his black phone back down on the side table, her face gone cold. She walked over to the painting, glared at it with slitted eyes, and then spat right on it.

Footsteps approached, getting closer, until his deep voice came from behind her.

“You’re still here?”

“Oh… yeah. My legs are fine now. I should go.”

He gave her a quick, tired look, grabbed his phone from the table, and left without another word.

Watching him walk away, Miok chewed her lower lip.

The way he looked at her—just a stylist, nothing more—was so different from how he’d treated Baek Ara in Busan. The contrast made her chest ache with resentment.

She tossed the clothes together carelessly, shoved the costume rack out of the dressing room, and dragged it across the quiet living room toward the door.

***

Back home, Miok couldn’t sleep a wink. She tossed under the covers until the first pale blue light of dawn seeped in, then shot upright in bed. With bloodshot eyes, she sat at her desk, powered on her computer, and logged into a massive anonymous celebrity gossip forum.

Hesitation lasted all of two seconds. Then she clicked Write Post and started typing furiously.

[The name, job, and phone number of the woman who slapped the actor]

She didn’t stop there. She went straight for the kill.

[Actor Kang XX can’t get it up. This is a secret, so just between us members.]

Even in the early morning, the forum was packed, and replies flooded in almost instantly.

[No way, he’s impotent? If that’s true, holy crap.]
[She posted the slapper’s info too, so it must be real…]
[Guess God really is fair.]
[LMAO can’t get it up hahahaha]

Miok smirked, watching the view count skyrocket, then calmly deleted the post.

The damage was already done. Others would spread it for her.

Sure enough, it took barely any time before new posts started popping up:

[Breaking: Slapper girl is a painter]
[The woman who slapped him is Baek XX]
[Kang XX isn’t gay, just impotent]
[Reason he’s never dated? Can’t get it up]

Satisfied, Miok sprawled onto her bed and laughed out loud for a long while.

***

This time, the news hit Ara almost instantly. Her phone lit up with a barrage of hateful texts like machine-gun fire.

[You b1tch]
[Go die, whore]
[Even your name’s trash. Baek Ara, you’re a painter, right?]
[How dare you slap our oppa?]

The endless vibration was accompanied by a flood of calls from unknown numbers.

Half-asleep, Ara stared at her phone in shock. The preview notifications alone were full of filth.

How did they even get her number? And her job?

Shivers ran up her arms. She tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed both arms hard. She’d never been cursed out this much in her life.

Was this just the price of being involved with a top star?

She turned the phone off entirely.

“…Guess I’ll have to change my number.”

She sat there staring at the dark screen for a moment, then quietly got up and pulled her suitcase from storage. She couldn’t stay here—not without suffocating.

Facing Donghee next door like nothing happened would be impossible, and she definitely couldn’t see Seohyuk. She’d only end up resenting him.

For now, she decided, she wouldn’t think about either of them. It would be better for her sanity.

She started packing—clothes, daily essentials, just what she’d need for now. She knew from experience, when her parents died, and when her grandmother passed… sometimes, not thinking too deeply was the only way to survive.

Morning sunlight spilled through the open curtains, too bright and too warm for how cold she felt inside. She shut her eyes tight.

She didn’t want the light. It clashed with her mood.

Wiping away the wetness in her eyes, she went around closing every curtain in the house. In the dimness, she packed piece by piece, until she found the photo booth strip of her and Seohyuk.

Should she take it? Leave it?

She knew she’d end up moving out of this place eventually, so she slipped it into her diary. She couldn’t throw away those memories—not yet.

After finishing, she got dressed, stood still for a moment, then turned her phone back on. Messages poured in. She sighed, glanced once at the sunlight beyond the curtains, and sent two short texts—one to Seohyuk, and one to Donghee.

[Take care, unnie.]

Then she powered the phone off again.

***

Seohyuk, exhausted after another sleepless night, had taken one of the sleeping pills he usually used to fight jet lag. He was out for ten hours straight.

When he woke, still groggy, he checked his phone—and saw Ara’s message.

[Seohyuk, do you remember what we promised on Ganghwa Island? Let’s break up. Take care.]

He blinked, wondering if he’d misread it.

Jumping out of bed, he read it again. His face went pale. He called her immediately—phone off.

Throwing on just a mask, he got in his car and drove.

He wasn’t supposed to be out at this time, but he didn’t care. Right now, nothing mattered except her.

He had no idea that, by then, Ara’s personal details—and his own most private secret—were already being leaked bit by bit to the world.