Chapter 70: “Do You Not Have Any Friends?”

“The hell… there's more?”

“We’re just getting started.”

Han Yujin was used to expressing her feelings through material things.

Not because she was materialistic or liked to show off...

“It feels like… too much.”

“People usually love it when I do this.”

She had simply been taught that way.

Whenever she said thank you, someone would always respond with, “That’s it? Just words?”

Only by handing over something expensive would they finally say, “At least you put in some effort.”

In that sense… Han Yujin had been especially thoughtful this time.

Thanks to UTAR, the past two months had been fun.

Each instrument shining on the live stage, Taeyoon’s more extravagant DJing than usual—

And that surprise twist at the end.

“Hm, I see.”

“Uh… wait. Feels like I’m forgetting something. Ah! Right! The sunglasses!”

Han Yujin mumbled as she rummaged through her bag.

She had to deliver every gift she prepared for her sincerity to be fully conveyed.

As she dug deep into her bag—

“Tada! This one’s for you, Writer Seo!”

Today’s highlight!

Honestly, maybe everything else had just been the lead-up to this album.

She pulled out a worn-looking album.

“Oh?”

“I thought you liked Zapp! I noticed you mix their stuff often!”

Their intense groove and sampling—

And the funky beats layered on top often showed up in Taeyoon’s mixing.

There’s no way Han Yujin, a regular at Sierra, wouldn’t have noticed.

A gift carefully chosen based on an analysis of Taeyoon’s song selection and taste.

It was clearly different from the rest.

“Must’ve been hard to find… I’ll enjoy it.”

But Taeyoon’s reaction was oddly lukewarm.

He loved the album itself.

But the moment he received the gift, an inexplicable discomfort brushed past his chest.

The gift itself was great. It really was, but…

“Huh, do you not like it?”

“No, of course not.”

As Taeyoon hesitated, Moon Jungbae jumped in with perfect timing.

“Wow, where’d you find this? Even I don’t have it.”

“eBay auction!”

“Nice taste. The competition must’ve been insane. Our maknae’s lucky, huh?”

Despite Moon Jungbae’s effort,

Han Yujin’s eyes drooped as she replied.

“Is he sulking ‘cause I didn’t give him red ginseng? Or… was the windbreaker too pink? Should I go exchange it?”

Taeyoon didn’t bother to answer.

He just wore a subtly complicated expression.

Then, Bang Gicheol, who had been munching on red ginseng while wearing the windbreaker and sunglasses Han Yujin had gifted him, suddenly jumped in.

“Come on~ He’s frozen ‘cause he loves it too much.”

“Ah, that’s it, right? Right?”

At Han Yujin’s words, Bang Gicheol nodded enthusiastically.

“Totally. I’d freeze up too if I got that album.”

Even with Bang Gicheol’s cheerful support, Taeyoon still held that ambiguous smile.

I had a feeling.

Han Yujin had a habit of surprising me with these random gestures. I knew she interacted with people differently.

Was it because she was a celebrity?

That’s what I thought at first.

Up until then, I’d never even seen a celebrity in real life.

And not just any celebrity—an ex-idol from the so-called “top tier.”

It’d be weirder if she acted just like a regular person.

“Wow, your studio’s nice.”

“Let me play the album real quick.”

A retro sound flowed from the speakers.

I simply stared at the spinning LP record.

Then came a timid, cautious voice.

“Um… did I do something wrong?”

I looked up.

Han Yujin was staring at me with rabbit-like eyes.

“Huh? No?”

“Then why do you look so stiff? Are you feeling sick? Should I call your manager hyung?”

“No, no. It’s not that.”

I could see the worry overflowing in Han Yujin’s eyes.

Yeah. Better to just say it than make her worry.

“Thank you for the gift. I really appreciate it, but…”

I looked her in the eyes and continued.

“You don’t have to do all this for me.”

“…Huh? I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Noona.”

The moment I said that word out loud—something I had only ever written in text—Han Yujin’s already-big eyes widened even more.

She seemed like someone who wasn’t very good at normal communication.

Maybe even worse than me.

Something about her behavior had felt off from earlier.

She smiled brightly. She was even kind.

But it felt strangely mechanical and formal.

What was it? I’d definitely seen it somewhere before…

Where was it? Ah, right! An amusement park!

Like the part-timer in a mascot costume, constantly handing out balloons!

That was it.

Why did Han Yujin, a former first-tier idol, always bombard people with material gifts?

Why did someone who was said to be reserved become so chatty in big groups?

Honestly, I wanted to ask—

“Do you not have any friends?”

Did she not know that real friends don’t need all this formality?

That was the best explanation I could come up with.

But of course, I couldn’t just blurt it out to her…

“I just want you to take it easy.”

“Did you not like my gift? I knew it… I should’ve gone with black…”

“No, that’s not it.”

I let out a sigh, frustrated.

“Friends don’t need all that stuff.”

For a moment, Han Yujin’s expression wavered.

She looked like someone who had heard something completely unexpected.

But wasn’t it obvious?

Relationships can last just fine without grand gifts.

And yet, Han Yujin didn’t seem to understand that.

“Friends…”

“Why do you always come loaded with stuff every time we meet? Me, I just want to talk about music, eat something good—just that.”

The sneakers I was wearing now, the mask I used often on stage, and…

Even the Earl Grey-scented diffuser sitting in the corner of the studio, and the hat I kept for bad hair days—

All gifts from Han Yujin.

Why did she always bring over-the-top gifts?

Just chatting casually would’ve been more than enough.

I looked at her, thinking that.

“……”

No answer.

She just had a look like she was deep in thought.

I waited silently.

At times like this, waiting is the best thing to do.

After a moment, still chewing on her lip in silence, she muttered softly.

“Because that’s what makes people like me…”

Ah… so that’s what she had learned.

She really believed people wouldn’t like her otherwise.

That’s probably why I kept feeling sorry for her.

My heart ached for no reason.

Just… felt bad for her.

“Um… Writer Seo.”

“Yes?”

“Do I seem uncomfortable?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t look uncomfortable.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

We both chuckled, facing each other.

And in that moment, I took my chance to ask:

“I always just get stuff from you—don’t you want anything from me?”

“Huh? Me? I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Countdown starts! Three, two…”

“Wait, wait a sec!”

Her expression softened slightly.

Good. What’s she going to say?

I swallowed nervously and waited, and then Han Yujin suddenly burst into laughter while looking at me.

“What’s with you? Why do you look so nervous, Writer?”

Ugh. Busted.

I was a little worried, to be honest.

Considering the kind of gifts I’d received from her, what if she asked for something crazy rare?

I mentally checked my bank balance.

Whatever. I’m a fan, right? I can do this much.

Let’s just repay everything I’ve gotten today!

That’s what I told myself when—

“I’m not sure if it’s proper at someone else’s workplace, but…”

“…?”

Han Yujin made a surprising request.

“Please eat tteokbokki with me. Super spicy. With a bunch of fried snacks. And Coolpis too.”

Ah…

“Well, this is still a restaurant after all. Is it okay to bring in outside food here?”

That was it?

“Why tteokbokki all of a sudden?”

“It’s a thing. I’ll tell you later. Oh, I’ll have tonkatsu!”

I walked back into the studio carrying the tteokbokki we had delivered.

But then—

“…Who are you?”

“You told me to get comfortable, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean like a total punk.”

“Puhaha! My hair does look kinda punk-ish today.”

Han Yujin had changed!

It hadn’t even been an hour since I told her to relax.

This was… a bit too relaxed.

Ah, she’s slowly evolving into my hyung.

Her carefully styled hair was now tied messily in a high bun on top of her head.

She’d rolled up her sleeves and looked ready to throw down.

“Ooh! Tteokbokki!”

“What’s with you? Acting like you’ve never seen tteokbokki before.”

“Come on, I’ve had regular tteokbokki before. But this super spicy kind? First time.”

“Huh?”

Seriously?

Isn’t this the Korean soul food?

“Dieting…”

“…Still. You’ve really never had spicy tteokbokki before?”

“My agency never let us eat it. What could I do?”

“Not even sneaked some with your members?”

“We were always together, so we were all controlled as a group.”

“…Wow.”

I’d heard that idols had to manage their weight pretty strictly.

But not even being able to eat this?

“That’s just how it was. It’s been a dream of mine to eat tteokbokki comfortably with a friend.”

“That’s a weird thing to call a dream…”

Han Yujin and I sat down and demolished the tteokbokki in no time.

She chugged the drink that came with it in one go and grinned.

Now that I think about it…

This was my first time eating spicy tteokbokki too.

It’s spicy—but delicious.

Han Yujin cleared the table and, wearing the most relaxed expression I’d ever seen from her, asked:

“So, Writer. Why did you ask to meet today?”

Ah, right. I had planned to have a deep conversation about idols.

I thought it was a necessary process while working on Signum’s song.

But after watching Han Yujin’s behavior today—

That reflection on what it means to be an idol felt pointless.

I replied.

“I had something to ask you.”

“Ask me anything!”

“But… I don’t think I need to ask it anymore.”

“Hm?”

Han Yujin tilted her head, looking even more relaxed than before.

I glanced at her tied-up hair and let out a chuckle.

“I was going to ask, ‘What exactly is an idol?’”

I used to think idols were just entertainers with exceptional talent.

They sold dreams and, at the same time, were trapped in those very dreams themselves.

In other words… people who constantly performed the ideal image the public wanted.

Even Han Yujin, just a while ago, was like that.

Plain clothes, no makeup—

Yet not a single expression or movement looked natural.

That was true right up until we sat down and devoured the tteokbokki.

“An idol? Now that you ask me so suddenly, I don’t even know how to answer.”

“It’s okay. I think I get it now.”

As I said that, Han Yujin scooted her chair closer to mine.

“Ooh, I want to hear your thoughts! What does ‘idol’ mean to you? Coming from someone who writes songs for idols?!”

She reached out a hand like she was holding a mic.

Hey, don’t look at me with those expectant eyes!

But honestly… I didn’t really have an answer.

After seeing so many different sides of Han Yujin in such a short time, this was the only conclusion I could draw:

“Idols… are just people like us, huh?”

“Eh?”

“I think I made it too complicated. Treated you like something special and hard to understand. But when I think about it, that kind of curiosity could feel like a burden. In the end, people are just people. No need to overthink it.”

Come to think of it, the Signum guys weren’t all that different either.

They only looked flashy on stage—otherwise, they were like baby chicks, always following me around calling me ‘hyung.’

Maybe… this whole dilemma was meaningless from the start.

“Hmm…”

Was I being too heavy?

I glanced over at Han Yujin.

She wore a complicated expression.

For someone who’d trained for years and kept running in the name of competition and survival, my words could’ve felt disappointing.

But I couldn’t help it.

A creator’s emotions get directly poured into their songs.

So I always write music exactly as I feel it—plain and true.

Then—

“Writer.”

“Yes?”

“We’re friends… right?”

Han Yujin suddenly threw out a random question.

Wait, were you not listening at all until now…?

I just nodded in response, and she mumbled:

“But it’s unfair.”

“Huh? What is?”

“Calling you ‘Writer.’ Isn’t that too formal for friends?”

Is it…?

“From now on, I’m gonna call you what I want.”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“And also… I want a gift too.”

“I bought you tteokbokki.”

“Come on, not that.”

“Then what?”

“A song!”

Han Yujin leaned in and looked up at me.

“I’ve wanted to bring it up so many times, but I didn’t want to pressure you. But we’re at the point where we can talk about stuff like this comfortably now, right?”

See? Idols really are just like us.

“Of course.”

“And…”

“There’s more?”

“I want to come here often. Is that okay?”

Uh—what?

She suddenly dropped the honorifics.

But… strangely, it felt comfortable.

Like I’d really become friends with Han Yujin.

“I like this place. The tteokbokki is good, the studio’s cozy, and the Cheongseong uncles are nice. And honestly…”

Han Yujin hesitated for a moment, then added softly:

“You’re the only friend I have.”

Wait, seriously?

“So when the song we’re working on now is done, you have to work with me again. If it’s a song written by Stay, I’ll sing anything—nursery rhymes, CCM, army songs, whatever.”

That’s all fine, but… army songs? That’s a bit much.

And also, my composer stage name is Stay, so what’s this ‘Seotay’ supposed to be?

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