“……What do you think?”
At Cha Jae-woo’s question, I almost reflexively said not really — but stopped myself.
At a glance, Cha Jae-woo’s face was as indifferent as always. Still and composed, like a lake with not a breath of wind on its surface, not a hint of disturbance.
No — more accurately, there was an obvious effort to appear that way. Once I noticed that, things I hadn’t seen before became visible.
His usual detached, prickly demeanor was still intact, but the eyes looking at me wavered slightly — and then he bit down on his lower lip like he was gnawing at it.
Reading the anxiety that seeped through Cha Jae-woo’s every movement, I could clearly feel the hope and despair alternating in his eyes moment by moment.
His wavering gaze, the subtle trembling of his hands — they all spoke for what he was feeling inside.
I stared quietly at Cha Jae-woo for a moment as he held my gaze with that handsome face slightly pinched.
“……Damn. Is it really that bad?”
When I said nothing, Cha Jae-woo interpreted the silence his own way, and his expression gradually stiffened. He stood there with his lips barely moving like he wanted to say something more — then snapped the laptop shut with an irritated hand.
His fingers raked through his own hair in a frustrated gesture, and something like resignation flickered briefly across his eyes.
“Never mind. Don’t say anything.”
“……”
“My parents say it sounds like trash when they hear it, so I guess it’s the same for you.”
He laughed then, hollowly. Reading the complex emotions that crossed Cha Jae-woo’s face in that brief moment, I reflexively grabbed his sleeve.
He looked like he was about to grab the laptop and shove it away somewhere — then confusion spread across that expression. Cha Jae-woo slowly turned his head, and the moment our eyes met, I could catch a flash of irritation.
Who are you to grab me, his furrowed brow seemed to say. Without thinking, I answered.
“I liked it.”
“……What?”
“It was good to listen to. The song you wrote.”
The impression I’d been holding back from before slipped out before I knew it. Even if it meant I’d have to introduce him to Kwon Tae-gyeong right then and there, I felt like I’d regret it if I didn’t say what I’d honestly felt.
Whatever else I might think, I didn’t want Cha Jae-woo treating his own talent like trash. The thought that it would be such a waste to bury it came naturally — that was how remarkable and overwhelming his talent was.
I was certain that someone like this absolutely could not be allowed to let that talent go to rot.
If even someone like me, who knew almost nothing about music, felt this way — what would professionals think? That very thought made something quicken in my chest.
“……You’re saying you liked the song I wrote?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded at Cha Jae-woo, who asked again with a look of disbelief. Then I added what comfort I could, without dismissing his parents’ judgment.
“Your parents don’t really listen to idol music these days, do they.”
“……”
“So they probably just don’t know. It’s a different world from what they’re used to, after all.”
Honestly, it wasn’t even at a level that needed comforting. Any agency that heard Cha Jae-woo’s song would clearly want to bring him in on the spot.
It might seem absurd for someone like me, who barely understood composition, to be this certain — but if you had ears, there was no way you could call that song anything less than good.
The impact of the track Cha Jae-woo had played for me was that strong — enough that the certainty came without any effort.
It was better than any song I’d heard from any group up until that point. I felt frustrated with myself that the only word I could reach for was simply good.
At the same time, I wanted to hear more. I wanted to hear whatever other songs Cha Jae-woo had composed, besides the one he’d just played.
“Do you have any other songs?”
I asked as carefully as I could, but there was no answer. Wondering if I’d offended him somehow, I looked up — and Cha Jae-woo’s large hand covered my eyes.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“……Shut up and stay still for a second.”
When I squirmed, Cha Jae-woo pressed down with more force as if to subdue me. I resisted at first, but eventually gave up against the overwhelming strength.
What the hell is wrong with this guy? I only asked if I could hear another song — why is he suddenly covering someone’s eyes like this?
It was baffling, but there was no point fighting strength I couldn’t beat, so I waited quietly for Cha Jae-woo to let go. Before long, his hand fell away from my eyes.
He’d been pressing down hard enough that the moment he pulled away, a flood of light hit me all at once, and I was nearly blinded for a second.
Genuinely weird bastard.
“……Ha Yun-su, did you mean what you just said?”
“Which part? Asking if you had more songs?”
“Not that.”
Cha Jae-woo frowned and shook his head. He hesitated for a moment, lips barely moving — then asked in a careful tone that wasn’t like him at all.
“……Whether you actually meant it. That the song was good.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
I deliberately kept my voice flat. What I’d felt listening to Cha Jae-woo’s work was genuine — but I found myself not wanting to let him get too full of himself after the fact.
It was the kind of petty, pride-driven thinking that only made sense at that age. But Cha Jae-woo didn’t seem to care about any of that — he set the laptop back up and held out the headset.
“……Then you might as well listen to the other ones too.”
I hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded and took the headset from him. Part of me also wanted to confirm whether Cha Jae-woo was actually a genius or had just gotten lucky with one song.
***
To cut to the conclusion — Cha Jae-woo was absolutely a genius.
As if to prove it, not long after, he sent demos of his self-composed songs to several agencies and received all kinds of offers in return.
After careful consideration, Cha Jae-woo accepted K Entertainment’s offer and made his official debut as a composer under a composition team called Lacy.
From that point on, whenever Cha Jae-woo finished a new song, he always played it for me first.
Even when I asked him what the point was now that I was getting older and had stopped listening to idol music, he always insisted. Something about needing to play it for me before releasing it, or he couldn’t feel settled.
I pretended to find Cha Jae-woo’s stubbornness a nuisance — but inwardly I liked it.
Whether he played his songs for me or not, the fact that Cha Jae-woo wrote good music would never change. Even so, being the first one to hear what he’d written felt like an enormous privilege.
You’re special to me — so I must be special to you too, right?
I never once said it out loud, but I thought it to myself.
That Cha Jae-woo, after eight years together, would naturally have come to care for me too. That he’d at least put me ahead of Kwon Tae-gyeong — I think that was what I had expected.
So it became that much harder to bear. The fact that even after eight years as his partner, I still came second to Kwon Tae-gyeong in Cha Jae-woo’s heart.
That someone you’d carried a one-sided love for could matter more than a partner of eight years — what a remarkable kind of love that was.
It felt like a stark, naked demonstration that no matter what an ordinary person did, they could never beat a genius — and something scorching rose from the back of my throat, pooling thick beneath my tongue.
If I’d known it would come to this, I never should have let it become a relationship at all. I should have been grateful to stay by his side as a friend, and left it at that.
It was too late to regret it now, but still.
“Yun-su, about the unmanned reservation books——”
“……Yes, Deputy Ye-jin.”
Deputy Ye-jin’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I had been transferred here at the start of the year after working at a different library until last year, which made me effectively a three-month newcomer. Deputy Ye-jin, on the other hand, had already been here for a year, so whenever I wasn’t sure about something, I often went to her.
“What is it?”
“Nothing major — it’s just that the process seems to have changed from what I told you before. Apparently, unmanned reservations are supposed to be handled last now.”
I was listening attentively to what Deputy Ye-jin was saying when I tilted my head.
“Wasn’t the part-timer in charge of unmanned reservations? I thought we just checked them.”
“That was the case, but apparently she won’t be able to come in starting this week.”
“Is that so? She was lovely — that’s a shame.”
It wasn’t an empty thing to say. The part-timer, who had mentioned she was twenty this year, had a bright personality and an easy-going warmth about her.
Honestly, I had never come across anyone with a truly difficult personality at the library — not so far. Whether that was just luck or something about the nature of the place, I wasn’t sure.
Of course, it wasn’t as if there were no unusual visitors with complaints. But compared to other jobs, it was on the gentler end — I could tell that much just from thinking back on a few part-time jobs I’d had in college.
“They say they’ll find someone else soon, so please bear with it until then.”
I nodded and told her I would. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal.
Around the beginning or end of the year, when the library’s budget proposals and various training documents needed processing, it would have been another story — but by March, things tended to ease up relatively. It would get busy again soon enough, but it wasn’t urgent enough to make a fuss about needing to hire someone right away.
And so, as always, I sat at the desk until closing time at eight, took care of the day’s work, did a final tidy of the area, set the alarm, and headed home.
Tomorrow was Saturday. Not a closed day, but this week’s shift wasn’t mine — so I’d get a rare day off. Maybe I’d have a beer tonight after a long while. I was mulling that over as I turned to leave, and then——
“Ha Yun-su.”
Just a few steps out of the library, a cool, low voice snagged at my heels. It was a voice so familiar that even stopping to wonder if I was hearing things would have been a luxury — my body turned reflexively in the direction it came from.
Even though it was spring, a still-cool breeze brushed against my cheek, and the trees standing tall like a backdrop swayed in the wind.
A rushing sound of wind rose and fell, and turning my gaze away from it, I saw a man who stood out — as if he alone were caught in a spotlight on a darkened stage.
Winter cold enough that snow wouldn’t have surprised anyone — that was when we’d broken up. And now it was spring, with flowers coming into bloom. A face I hadn’t seen in at least two months.
“We need to talk.”
It was Cha Jae-woo.
