Episode 63: Guest (1)
[Suhyuk: Hyung, I’ve arrived.]
That message arrived just as I was placing the tablecloth over the simply set breakfast table.
[I’ll be down soon.]
After sending a short reply to Suhyuk, I quietly cracked open the bedroom door.
Inside the pitch-black room, where not a sliver of light entered, only steady breathing sounds could be heard, so I silently closed the door again.
And then I grinned.
‘Worth moving as quietly as possible.’
At the same time, I felt a small pang of gratitude toward Seo Yoonje and Lee Ahjeong for so generously giving me this place.
No matter how much clatter I made in the kitchen, the bedroom stayed silent!
Something unimaginable back in the rooftop room.
[Make sure to heat it up before eating.]
Even though it was a cold winter and the food wouldn’t spoil anyway, I still wanted Zia to have a warm meal, so I left a note by the tablecloth and headed out.
It was a bit disappointing not to have Zia see me off, but,
‘Well, can’t be helped. We’ll meet soon anyway.’
Still, it was much better than waking Zia up at this early hour and having her rustle around.
Satisfied with that, I took the elevator down to the underground parking lot.
I hopped right into the car waiting with the door open,
“Hey.”
“Ah, hyung, you’re out.”
Along with Suhyuk’s usual morning greeting, a blast of warm air hit me, as if chasing away the chilly underground parking lot air.
For a moment, the sleepiness I’d thought had fled came creeping back languidly.
“…This is INVINCIBLE.”
Suhyuk pressing the volume-up button on the steering wheel a few times filled the car with the blend of taepyeongso, gongs, and EDM, blowing away that sleep once more.
The final part of Trezit’s Invincible,” which I had sung.
‘Next up is “night, stars, sky.”’
As expected, the gentle melody of night, stars, and sky that could lull me back to sleep followed, drawing an involuntary laugh from me as I teased Suhyuk.
“You’ve even memorized the order now. Trying to get sick of it? Let’s listen to something else.”
“Haha…”
Suhyuk just laughed, knowing the scolding was laced with playfulness.
It wasn’t like I genuinely wanted to hear something else.
Suhyuk’s playlist started with “With You, For a Moment,” included the seven songs I sang on Blind Singer, tossed in a few from the Blind Singer TOP7, and wrapped up with Hylliy’s recent tracks, ending with Shooting Star.
It was tailored to exactly one hour—the streaming tally period on the Cocoa Chart—for so-called “breath-streaming” or “breathing” streams.
‘It’s Suhyuk’s way of doing his job.’
But even if Suhyuk streamed 24/7 like breathing, the already fixed rankings wouldn’t budge, which made me a bit wistful, so I’d said that just in case.
Hoping, perhaps.
“It’s doing plenty well already.”
I tossed out my honest sentiment lightly,
“Still, we have to do what we can, hyung. In my opinion, this song is absolutely number one material.”
As expected, Suhyuk brought up exactly what I’d anticipated.
Of course, I knew why he felt unsatisfied.
The songs I sang during Blind Singer filming had climbed as high as second place.
From Suhyuk’s perspective, Shooting Star peaking at 14th and now sitting at 21st might not cut it.
But I couldn’t help smiling wryly at his sentiment.
Having topped the daily chart—and even the yearly chart multiple times—I knew full well that climbing into single digits back then wasn’t my true caliber.
The halo effect of the Blind Singer program.
And the support fire from the original artists’ fandoms.
‘Without those two factors, getting that high would have been impossible.’
Proof of that: those competition songs didn’t hold those ranks for long.
Once the next competition song dropped and the original artists’ fans got bored, they retired from the charts immediately.
So, the current ranking without those boosts was my accurate performance.
‘It’s really doing more than well enough.’
And this performance far exceeded my expectations—and those of Ailee and the A&R team.
‘When it hit 14th, Ailee came in with cakes and threw a celebration party.’
So many singers are overjoyed just to enter the charts.
Even Lee Ahjeong, with the title of being personally scouted and produced by Seo Yoonje, bombed her debut song so badly it never even dreamed of charting.
Excluding OSTs and program competition songs that don’t count toward awards, this was basically my debut single—and not as an idol, but a singer’s song—making the charts at all is a huge deal.
This ranking probably wouldn’t have happened without that near-viral heartwarming story posted on my fan café.
‘Well, Suhyuk probably doesn’t get that yet.’
He works so hard he forgets, but Suhyuk’s just a fresh newbie, barely twenty.
Blind Singer’s 10% ratings are definitely high, but he doesn’t yet grasp that the absolute viewer count isn’t that massive.
Of course, Suhyuk’s breathing streams aren’t meaningless.
Shooting Star is a well-crafted song.
With just the right trigger, it could skyrocket or reverse-climb anytime.
‘Then Suhyuk’s efforts would pay off too.’
The catch is, no one knows when or how that trigger will come in this industry.
“Oh. It’s snowing. The forecast said it would.”
Suhyuk’s voice pulled my head up, and through the black car window, I saw grains of something falling.
“Yeah, it is. How long’s it supposed to last?”
“Till tomorrow, according to the forecast. But not a ton.”
“That’s a relief at least. Come to think of it, we’re pretty lucky. How does the concert fall on Christmas Eve and Christmas? Isn’t this basically the heavens helping us?”
Amid Suhyuk’s soft chuckle, the song changed.
Shining Light.
The one I had to sing today.
Today was Christmas Eve.
***
“What? Yujin-ssi, did you really dye your hair again?”
“No, you asked me to do it, Senior, and now you’re saying that?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”
“Yes. You’re right. It’s a wig, actually.”
“Ah, what the~!”
Even if my hair had been healthy from not touching it before, I couldn’t keep bleaching and then dyeing it black, only to bleach it again.
I lifted the emerald blue wig borrowed from Grace Salon—similar to the one from the Blind Singer finals—and showed the hairnet underneath, making Lee Ahjeong burst into peals of laughter.
“This feels a bit stuffy—can I take it off until rehearsal, Senior?”
“Sure. Nahee-ya, take care of Yujin-ssi’s wig too.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah. But you two already knew each other before, right?”
Lee Ahjeong’s stylist, who took the wig I carefully removed, tilted her head and asked.
“We first met during Blind Singer, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
After exchanging a glance with me, Lee Ahjeong’s response made the stylist’s head tilt the other way.
We seemed awfully close for that.
Truth be told, my relationship with Lee Ahjeong right now was a bit peculiar.
I felt a strong inner closeness toward her, and she treated me more casually than expected.
As a result, unlike before the regression where only she used informal speech with me, we now mutually respected each other—but the nuance of our conversations hadn’t changed much from back then, creating that kind of atmosphere between us.
Of course, the reason was a little different.
“I’ve gotten really close with Yujin-ssi’s girlfriend lately.”
After confirming the guest schedule, Lee Ahjeong had been visiting not just our place but even Lady Moon Sookhee’s café frequently.
At first, I thought she was targeting Zia to collaborate on something with me, but I soon realized that wasn’t it.
‘She really just wanted to get close to Zia.’
They’d gotten close, but it was only to the point of using informal speech, and it felt more like Lee Ahjeong was one-sidedly fawning over Zia.
I didn’t quite get why Lee Ahjeong liked Zia so much, but even to me, it looked like in her eyes, I was just an extra and Zia was the main event.
“Then shouldn’t you be keeping your distance from Yujin-ssi instead, Unnie?”
“Hmm. For a normal couple, yeah, but these two are an exception. No one—not even me, not the whole world—could wedge between them. Right?”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“See? I’m a zero-confession first-timer.”
At Lee Ahjeong’s words laced with laughter, the stylist looked at me with a mix of ‘What kind of guy is this?’ and half-envious eyes.
Satisfied with the reaction, Lee Ahjeong burst into laughter again, but
“Ahjeong-ah, rehearsal’s starting.”
“Got it. Yujin-ssi, rest up. If you need anything, just tell our staff.”
Soon, at the call from the staff member coming to fetch her, Lee Ahjeong shed her laughter and stood up, leaving those words before heading briskly to the stage.
The mention of staff was probably her own way of being considerate, since Suhyuk had stepped out to bring Zia here.
Well, I wasn’t clueless enough to waste the staff’s hands in an already hectic situation.
As the guest, I stepped back a pace, quietly watching from afar as the preparations for someone else’s party unfolded.
Bzz.
My phone vibrated lightly.
[Zia♥: Han Yujin!!!]
[Zia♥: Why did you book here again…!]
Messages arriving with an emoji of a fuming face.
It seemed Zia had just arrived at Grace Salon.
But I had my own side to say.
‘We’re clearly on a date today.’
Even the person involved, Lee Ahjeong, had acknowledged it.
That her concert made for a great date course.
‘So she should come looking pretty.’
Even if it’s just for me to see.
But if there’s a chance, as pretty as possible.
‘Well, rehearsal’s just starting, so there’s plenty of time.’
I glanced around subtly, confirming no one was paying me much attention, then hunkered down in the corner of the waiting room, letting my thumbs dance over the phone screen.
[Come looking pretty]
[So I can spot you right away]
[Zia♥: It’s the vice director again… I’m stressed…!]
Even during profile shoots and all four Blind Singer finals stages, she’d been in that vice director’s hands, yet she still hadn’t gotten used to it—holding back a leaking laugh, I kept my thumbs moving.
[How pretty will you be?]
[Zia♥: Don’t]
[Prettier than Senior, right?]
[Zia♥: Hhhghhhrrgghhh…]
Teasing Zia half, easing her tension half, I lost track of time sending messages.
Knock knock.
The knock startled me into looking up, and the stylist from earlier was coming in.
“Rehearsal’s almost at your turn, Yujin-ssi, so I came to put the wig on.”
“Ah. I can do it myself.”
“Just stay still. Don’t mess up the setup with some half-baked attempt.”
I’d thickened my skin plenty by now.
But it didn’t seem like it’d work on her, so I stayed put, and the stylist, smirking, carefully lifted the wig from the stand and asked,
“Were you just texting your girlfriend?”
“Huh? Ah, yes.”
“Now I get why Unnie said Yujin-ssi was okay.”
“Huh?”
“Your face says it all.”
Only then did my gaze turn to the mirror.
The me reflected there wore an expression of pure happiness, even to my own eyes.