Episode 7: For You, a Moment (1)
‘Ah, this is happiness.’
Watching an Nflix variety show in the evening with Zia using my lap as a pillow—what could be better?
Considering Zia’s usual routine of working day and night, and even on weekends when she had a bit of time, she’d close her eyes to catch up on sleep, this felt like the ultimate luxury.
‘Man, I got lucky.’
This leisure came about because Zia was only working morning shifts now.
The reason she, who was ready to turn back into a work machine, settled for just mornings was the 10 million won I’d earn for singing ‘For You, a Moment’.
‘Honestly, even that doesn’t sit right with me.’
If it were up to me, I’d stop her from working those morning shifts too, but 10 million won only convinced her to take weekday afternoons and weekends off.
‘The timing, though…’
It’s a big deal that there isn’t a single audition program happening around now.
The closest one is ‘Blind Singer’ Season 3, where contestants compete with their faces and names hidden, judged solely on their voices.
‘But that’s not recruiting until fall.’
With winter winds still blowing, that’s way too far off.
Plus, even if I got in, nothing would change during the three or four months of the show.
In the end, the best I could do right now is some amateur YouTube contest, with weekly prizes of 500,000 won and monthly ones of 1 million.
Even winning every month would only net 3 million—far too little to stop Zia’s part-time jobs, especially when 10 million barely got us this far.
And royalties for ‘For You, a Moment’, which I haven’t even recorded yet? Don’t get me started.
‘Damn that thing called fame…’
People would lose it hearing that Polaris’s main vocalist was paid just 10 million.
‘For now, I’ll have to settle for this.’
What can I do?
At 23, I’d be bowing in gratitude for even half that amount.
I know without anyone telling me that this sum is only possible because Bang Hokyung recognized my talent.
Even for a star PD’s well-funded drama, 10 million is way past the ceiling for a nobody like me.
‘At least we’ve got this much leisure now.’
For that, I owe overwhelming thanks to Bang Hokyung’s ruthless meritocracy and Baek Kyungmin for bringing him to me.
“Ahh.”
Lost in thought, I picked up a piece of convenience store PB popcorn and brought it to Zia’s mouth. Her small lips parted slightly.
Watching her munch on the crumbly popcorn, the mystery show playing on the phone screen, barely larger than my palm, faded from my attention.
Drunk on Zia’s deadly cuteness, how many pieces of popcorn had I fed her?
“Ack!”
Zia, who’d been happily eating, finally lifted her head from my lap.
Then she patted her own thigh.
“Ugh, I can’t get used to this. Just lie down.”
Truth is, our current setup was the opposite of usual.
Normally, Zia was the one offering her lap as a pillow.
The fact that this reversal was rare lingered as a regret in my heart.
So I shook my head.
“Nope. I’m not switching. I’m doing this for you.”
“Ha…”
With a deep sigh, Zia gently placed her head back on my lap.
But she clutched the popcorn bag tightly to her chest, as if to say she wasn’t just going to take it lying down. That made me laugh again.
I lightly brushed Zia’s hair behind her ear.
They say women hate having their hair touched, but there wasn’t a hint of that in Zia’s exposed side profile.
“Sorry.”
Instead, her apology came.
I silently brushed her hair again.
This apology felt different from the guilt she’d shown up until this morning.
“And thank you. What I did to you was unforgivable, but instead of getting mad, you changed for me. Saying you love me, offering your lap like this… I feel so guilty I could die, but at the same time, I’m so happy I could lose my mind.”
A small tear glistened In the corner of Zia’s eyes, fixed on the phone screen.
She didn’t resist as I carefully wiped it away.
“I should’ve been doing this all along, and I’m the one who’s sorry for realizing it so late. Just having you by my side is more than enough.”
“Sniff.”
A light wrinkle formed on Zia’s nose as a sob escaped.
How much had I held back these expressions for her to tear up over something this small?
‘My past weighs heavy. So heavy.’
But that weight wasn’t burdensome.
It was almost welcome.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Zia would look like, accustomed to these outpourings of affection, my heart pounding with curiosity.
As I pictured that near future, still brushing her hair, Zia suddenly sat up.
Her gaze, previously on the phone, now locked onto me.
“No way. Wanna do it?”
“Huh?”
“It’s been a while since we’ve done it. Why so surprised?”
Zia’s unexpected words drew a slightly dumbfounded tone from me.
It’s not like this kind of thing was unusual between us, but—
‘Will I… be able to?’
The 16 years I spent rejecting countless girl groups, actresses, and even Hollywood stars to live as an asexual flashed through my mind.
As I hesitated, Zia, her face visibly flushed, added,
“Don’t want to? Fine, suit yourself. But think carefully—I don’t initiate like this often, you know.”
That was more than enough to overwrite those 16 asexual years.
‘Guess I can.’
A rush of blood surged to my core like magic, and words became unnecessary.
I tore off the clothes that would only get in the way and surrendered to instinct.
That is, until an oblivious phone call interrupted the delicate mood.
Ziiing.
“…”
“…”
“Answer it?”
“Ugh… yeah.”
Awkward glances and words passed as the uninvited guest chilled the atmosphere.
“Hello?”
I answered with barely concealed irritation, not even checking who it was.
“Sleeping? It’s a bit early for that.”
The voice on the other end was Bang Hokyung’s.
‘This catfish of a man, seriously.’
Gratitude aside, I ground my teeth silently at his knack for calling at the worst times.
“Recording’s scheduled. I’ll text you the address, so be there by 8 a.m. tomorrow. You’ll go in right after Yo-han’s done. Five days was enough prep time, right? Need more?”
As usual, Bang Hokyung delivered his one-sided orders without caring for my response.
Good thing, too—if he’d been chatty, my irritation would’ve seeped into my voice even more.
“Yes, I’ll be there on time.”
I hung up as quickly as possible and tossed the phone aside. Zia cautiously asked,
“What’d he say?”
“Said to come in for recording tomorrow at 8 a.m.”
“Eight? Then… you’ll need to be up by 6 at the latest? Should we just do it next—”
“Eek!”
Before she could finish, I scooped Zia up.
Sure, my current body’s a far cry from Polaris’s Han Yujin, but—
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
The fire of desire, reignited after 16 years, was more than enough to make up for my lack of chiseled muscles.
“Woo Zia-ssi? You’d better brace yourself tonight.”
As I strode boldly toward the bed, the variety show panelist’s voice, resuming on the phone, was soon drowned out by other sounds.
***
The next morning.
“You look tired. Nervous?”
That was Bang Hokyung’s greeting when he saw me.
“No, I’m fine.”
I replied calmly.
‘How many songs do you think I’ve sung? Nervousness? Please.’
The dark circles under my eyes were just the aftermath of last night’s heated storm in our rooftop apartment.
Apparently, the desire I thought had vanished over the past 16 years hadn’t disappeared—it had been piling up in some hidden corner.
Burning through that concentrated desire over hours left only a refreshing clarity.
“You don’t look fine. But we can’t delay the schedule. You’re the one who insisted on rerecording. The staff’s time here is just as valuable as yours.”
My energy was overflowing, but I must look exhausted enough for Bang Hokyung to worry (yes, that’s genuine concern, believe it or not).
‘Well, I barely slept three hours…’
It was a bit much.
While I was showering, Zia was practically half-passed out, showing no signs of waking.
Good thing her probation period meant her shift started around noon, or she might’ve been late.
‘Late? Maybe I could’ve orchestrated a tardiness-induced firing. Not a bad idea.’
The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I let it go.
Zia’s finally starting to shed her guilt—if I acted on that, my back wouldn’t survive her wrath.
“Thanks for the concern, but I’m really fine. I won’t cause any trouble.”
“Tch, listen to that confidence. Who said I was concerned? Han Yujin, sit over there and watch Yo-han closely.”
Bang Hokyung’s roundabout way of telling me to rest.
How do I know?
‘I’ve known this guy for years.’
The fact that he said my name is proof enough.
He didn’t even call me by name in front of Yoon Chanwoo.
‘This guy doesn’t use names unless he’s letting you into his circle.’
“Hey, you—what was it again…?
Plenty have called Bang Hokyung an old fogy for his cold way of addressing others.
Of course, those within his inner circle know he’s not really like that, but he doesn’t bother correcting the misconception.
It’s his way of weeding out the talentless, avoiding unnecessary hassle.
‘Probably my insistence on rerecording sealed the deal.’
That was part of the plan too.
Thinking back to Bang Hokyung’s roaring laughter when I said it, that was likely the clincher.
The hefty payment for my vocals probably stems from the same reasoning.
So, I quietly sat in the corner of the sofa he’d pointed to, watching the staff prep, when—
“Hello! Thanks for calling me in again!”
A man burst through the studio door with a lively greeting.
“Oh? This guy, right? The one who did the guide? My partner?”
His eyes met mine as he asked, and his name was—
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ko Yo-han. Your guide was amazing—stuck right in my ears!”
Ko Yo-han, one of the top-tier male solo artists of our time, a monster who devours other singers with raw talent despite barely reading sheet music.
“I’m Han Yujin. I’m a big fan of your work, sunbaenim.”
“Thanks!”
Bang Hokyung’s slightly surprised expression caught my eye at my polite greeting, so different from how I’d addressed him.
‘I can’t talk to everyone like I do with you, old man.’
That kind of attitude would usually come off as rude, wouldn’t it?
Nothing I can do if he finds it odd.
“Your turn’s after me, right, Yujin?”
“Yes.”
“Can I listen to your recording?”
“Of course! Feel free to give me any feedback if you spot something lacking. Oh, and please speak casually.”
“Should I? But, Yujin, you’re a bit too humble. Just hearing your guide, I could tell you’re not someone I’d nitpick. You think Hokyung-ssaem or Yoon PD called you in for nothing?”
[TL Note: “ssaem” is a casual and affectionate term derived from “seonsaengnim”, meaning “teacher” and “sunbaenim” is a term of respect used to address someone who is older in terms of experience, particularly in a school or work environment.]
“Thanks for the compliment, sunbaenim.”
“Enough with the pleasantries, Yo-han. Get in there.”
Our mutual flattery was cut short by Bang Hokyung’s voice.
Yo-han’s playful salute filled the studio with warm laughter.
“No need to be nervous. With your skills, Yujin, just do what you always do. Fighting!”
Completely misunderstanding my calm demeanor, Yo-han whispered that encouragement before heading into the recording booth.
And then—
“Where is this train taking me?”
A version of ‘For You, a Moment’, even lonelier than the one I’d put into the guide, began to flow from Ko Yo-han’s lips.