Episode 82: Gift (2)
A small clearing halfway up a modest hill, a short distance from the school.
With barely any passersby, it holds little beyond a few weathered playground sets faded by wind and rain.
Still dotted with patches of unmelted snow, this place is, frankly—
“You’re proposing here?!”
—not somewhere you’d blink at that reaction. It’s a million light-years from “romantic.”
Yet—
“Wow! It’s exactly the same!”
Zia’s voice, brimming with excitement, belies the barrenness.
“No one’s been here, huh? Even this torn part’s unchanged. Yujin-ah, remember this?”
“Of course. My vest got caught and ripped in half here.”
“Oh, that was tense back then. Now it just makes me laugh.”
Her laughter fills the lot, echoing the memories we’ve woven here.
“Wonder why we kept coming, even with mosquito bites. Guess we skipped summers, though.”
Looking back, money’s the obvious answer.
But back then, strumming poorly tuned guitars and singing together was enough.
Even after leaving, it held true.
In the hot summers and cold winters of our rooftop room.
Even during military service, when I got flak for visiting too often.
Memories over a decade old, yet vivid with happiness.
‘How’d it turn into that mess?’
Lee Hee-kyung’s the culprit, sure, but we were stubborn too.
Zia, agonizing alone over a ridiculous offer before choosing ruin.
Me, failing to give her the certainty to reject it.
‘What’s this ring worth?’
Even a cheap street-vendor plated ring would’ve delighted her.
If I’d proposed earlier, skipping the excuses—
Not dazzling the world with songs like now.
Maybe I’d have quit singing altogether.
Ignorant of the hollow glory that only dirties the soul.
‘Thinking about it… I’m still so late.’
Why only now?
When I returned to the past, grasping Zia’s hand to rewrite our future, this should’ve been first.
“Hmm, it’s nice being back after so long. Refreshing.”
Watching Zia marvel at the unremarkable view from the lot’s edge, I pulled a box from my thick coat pocket and stepped to the center, kneeling on one knee.
Perfect timing.
As I opened my mouth to call her name—
“By the way, what wind blew us here?”
Zia turned, mid-sentence.
“And you never sugges—…”
Her words froze.
No woman would miss this moment.
“Sorry it took so long.”
To her, bathed in sunlight, eyes wide with beauty—
“Like always, I want you to be the first to hear my songs. Forever.”
After much thought, my mind locked—resorting to a familiar line.
“Marry me.”
Hoping for a soft “yes” from her parted lips.
But the response veered wildly off-course.
Smack.
Zia slapped her own cheek.
Not mine.
Stunned, I regained my wits to see her cheek flush red.
“Zia-ya?!”
Rushing to her, I heard—
“Weird… not a dream…”
A deflated mutter.
Then—
“Ouch… it hurts…”
Wincing as pain hit, she cradled her cheek, her other reddening as she avoided my gaze.
Realizing her action, perhaps.
‘Embarrassing, huh.’
The sweet mood turned comedic with that slap.
But unwilling to let this once-in-a-lifetime moment end, I bit my lip to stifle a laugh and asked lightly—
“Was my proposal that absurd? Only possible in a dream?”
“No, it’s just…”
Meeting her hesitant eyes—
“Lately, I’ve been so happy… I keep worrying it’s a dream…”
Guilt flickered in her gaze—a feeling I thought vanished since my ‘Blind Singer’ win.
‘It’s still there…’
Of course.
If she could shed that guilt easily, I wouldn’t have fallen so hard.
That sight swelled my love for her, expanding my heart’s space.
“Dummy. Of all places, why your cheek? It’ll swell for sure.”
Removing her hand, I touched her slightly puffed cheek.
She shivered at my cold hand but soon overlaid hers, struggling to speak.
“That just now…”
“Huh?”
“Clearly, I messed up, yet you’re the one apologizing more… You did that last year too. It’s stuck with me. Maybe that’s why. I keep thinking we really broke up back then, and this happiness with you might be a dream… Silly, right?”
Unable to just watch Zia’s sheepish laugh, I pulled her into a tight embrace.
Despite writing countless song lyrics, words failed me now.
The thick t-shirt under my coat grew damp, and my grip on her small frame tightened.
How long we stayed like that, I’m not sure.
When Zia gently pushed against my chest, I loosened my hold.
Looking up with a smile, she said,
“I get it now.”
“What?”
“That being with you, no matter how happy, isn’t a dream.”
“Suddenly?”
My head tilted, puzzled by when she reached that conclusion.
But then, seeing her silently extend her left hand, I realized my task.
Pulling the ring from my pocket—sloppily shoved there—I moved to place it beside the silver band already there.
“Why?”
Zia slightly curled her fingers, stopping me.
“Don’t like it?”
The ring, a simple design with pink and yellow gold bases and a diamond as the main stone, was meticulously planned.
‘Put a lot of effort into this…’
Not directly asked, but input from Moon Sookhee, Lee Ahjeong, Sally, Ailee, Grace Salon’s hair designers, Lee Ahjeong’s stylist Yoon Na-hee, and Ko Yohan’s lyricist lover Jung Eun-hye shaped it.
Excluding Hylliy, where rumors might spread, it drew from my past jewelry exposure and their preferences—a near-perfect design.
Though, in this moment, the ring’s design hardly mattered.
‘Never considered Zia rejecting it.’
This whole scenario was unforeseen, so I grasped at that excuse.
“No, it’s gorgeous. I love it.”
Yet Zia shook her head, as if she’d accept even a candy-coated plastic ring from a street vendor.
“But do you really want me to wear it?”
With that, she flashed a mischievous smile I hadn’t seen in ages—burdened with baggage yet free of gloom.
‘The reason I fell for her.’
‘This feels familiar.’
My response was set.
Until arriving, I’d been certain of her “yes.”
Now, me nodding felt déjà vu-laden, yet instinctive.
“Really? ‘Want’ it?”
She double-checked, and my nod again sparked her laughter.
“See? I remember clearly. If this were my dream, you’d never say that.”
Her words stirred a vague, unsettling memory I couldn’t pin.
It didn’t last long.
Zia’s voice revealed it.
“Hey, Han Yujin. Didn’t I say I’d grant a wish if you won a Grammy?”
Right, we’d had that talk.
“Oh.”
“Not even a Grammy—just your first music show win. Aren’t you jumping the gun?”
“Wait. You’re rejecting my proposal over that?”
“Marrying me isn’t a wish?”
“Wow!”
Her unexpected jab drew an involuntary gasp, my grip on the ring tightening until it nearly popped.
“Ouch! What if I dropped it?!”
Zia’s quick catch saved it from the frozen ground.
Maybe my dazed stare at her face after that tease—
“Seriously. If you look like you’ll cry, who’d marry you?”
With a coy tone, she teased, returning the ring to its case and handing it back.
“Fine. Since you’re so eager to marry me, your older sister—born six months earlier—will yield. Win a daesang at any awards show.”
[TL Note: Daesang— In entertainment, it is the highest honor, awarded for outstanding achievements.]
“What?”
The sudden condition threw me.
“Why? Too much?”
“No, I can, of course I can. But… a daesang out of nowhere?”
“Yep, daesang. A Grammy’s generous, right?”
“True, but—no, no! Nooo!”
I wanted to protest, but her logic held, leaving me flustered.
Leaving me glitching, Zia stepped off the lot toward the hill path.
Her light steps lifted my mood too.
“Actually, I won a Grammy and time-traveled back—can’t you just do it? Or prepay since I’ll win anyway!”
Chasing her, I tried pleading—
“What’s this kid saying? No way. A promise is a promise, Yujin-Kiddo.”
No chance.
A bit annoying, though.
Back in Seoul—
“What?! Zia, why’s your face like that! Who did this?! Don’t tell me Yujin…! No, right?! Right?!!”
Clearing Moon Sookhee’s misunderstanding at the door took ages.