The Idol and The Manager

Tears

Jay’s POV

Jay was momentarily stunned as he heard the woman’s soft sobs fill the air, her voice breaking in the quiet space. His heart skipped a beat, unsure of what to make of it. The sound was raw, vulnerable, and his immediate instinct was to help. But before he could move, Manager-nim spoke up.

"Help me, please," the woman said, her voice shaky, a desperation that resonated with him.

"Oh! Min Ji-ya!" Manager-nim exclaimed, his voice rising with surprise. "What are you doing here, my daughter? Didn’t I say I’d treat you and your omma next time?" His tone was filled with a fatherly concern, and for a moment, Jay felt like an outsider in this unexpected scenario.

Jay turned to his manager, grateful for the man’s presence. He knew his manager well—knew that he was always a calm and steady hand in moments like these. Thank God my manager’s here. He’s the one who knows how to handle this. I want to help, but I don’t know how. At least he does.

He watched the woman closely, her eyes still downcast, as if the weight of her emotions was too heavy to bear. She sighed deeply, her breath shaky.

Jay couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She was clearly in distress. And just as he wondered what would happen next, she looked up slowly, meeting his manager’s eyes.

"Appa," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread.

Jay’s heart tightened at the word. The shift in the air was almost tangible—her vulnerability was undeniable, yet she was trying to gather strength from something or someone.

Her next words only deepened the mystery, the confusion swirling around him. “Omma yelled at me,” she said, her voice barely audible. “She said... she said—” But before she could finish, a tear slipped down her cheek, glistening in the dim light.

Jay felt a strange pang of empathy in his chest, a raw reaction to the sadness she wore so openly. He didn’t know her, but there was something about the way she wept so freely that made him want to reach out.

The woman cried like a child, and in that moment, Jay didn’t know how to react. What do I do? He wanted to comfort her, but how could he? He was just a stranger to her.

Manager-nim stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Let’s go. I’ll buy you ice cream, okay?"

The woman nodded, still crying, and Jay watched, unsure of his place in all of this. He stood there, frozen for a second, as his manager moved to settle things at the counter. He felt a surge of relief that the woman would be taken care of, but still, the emotional weight of the situation lingered with him.

Jay’s gaze never left her. She was still crying, her face a picture of helplessness.

He followed his manager, who led the woman outside, holding her arm gently as they walked toward the car. Do he need to really hold her like that?

Jay hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this was... different. Before following them, he shot a look at the sasaeng, a cold, piercing gaze that conveyed his frustration. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool night air hit him as he followed his manager and the woman to the parking lot. His manager still held her arm, guiding her with calm assurance. After a few moments, the woman pulled her arm free and walked the rest of the way on her own. Good, Jay thought, a faint sense of relief washing over him. She wasn’t completely dependent.

They reached the establishment where the car was parked, and they moved through the building, heading downstairs to the basement. Jay kept his distance, but his eyes were always on them, watching carefully. He couldn’t shake the need to know more about this woman and why she seemed so shaken.

When they finally reached the basement, his manager went toward the car, and Jay couldn’t help but notice that the woman stopped walking. She turned away from them, her sobs still coming in quiet bursts, and Jay watched as she wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself.

She then straightened, her voice breaking through the silence.

"Thank you very much for helping me, sir," she said, bowing deeply in gratitude. The sound of her voice was fragile but sincere, and Jay felt something stir inside him. Why does she seem so lost?

His manager smiled kindly, his voice soft but reassuring. "I’ll be okay here. You can leave me here."

Jay’s chest tightened as he watched the woman, still not fully understanding her situation. She seemed to be speaking as if she were already ready to let them go. Was she really okay, or was she just trying to put on a brave face?

As she straightened up, she finally noticed Jay. She walked a few steps toward him, and when she reached him, she bowed slightly. "I am very sorry for what happened. I will make it up to you. I will buy you new clothes, sir," she said, her words filled with regret.

Jay reached into his pocket, retrieving his handkerchief and offering it to her. He didn’t know why he did it, but something about her helplessness made him want to help. "Take it," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

The woman nodded, still wiping her eyes. She took the handkerchief from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice small and vulnerable.

Jay noticed the way she was still trying to hide her face beneath the hat. He could barely make out her features, but something in the way she carried herself intrigued him. There was a depth to her sadness that he couldn’t ignore.

She cried again, and Jay stood there, unsure of what to do. He wanted to say something comforting, but the right words didn’t come to him. I don’t know how to help her...

“I’m very sorry. I’m just so emotional right now," she continued, her voice shaky.

"I didn’t know there were people in Korea who acted like that. I don’t know what I did. I didn’t mean to get your clothes dirty. I’m really sorry.”

Jay felt his heart ache as he watched her. Her apology felt genuine, but there was so much more beneath the surface. He didn’t understand her pain, but he knew it was real.

Without thinking, he stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to gently touch her head. The gesture was awkward but sincere. He caressed her hair, a soft, reassuring motion, and his voice was low and soothing as he said, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He didn’t know if she heard him, or if his words made any difference, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she wasn’t alone. At least not anymore.