Chapter 86: Single-mindedness (3)

Part 8

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I don’t get why you’re showing me this,” Sihyun replied.

His reluctant tone prompted me to furrow my brow slightly, as if to say, Why would you even ask that? As he pulled out his earphones, his puzzled expression came into view, slightly distorted through my vision.

“Don’t you get something so obvious?” I pressed.

“No, I really don’t see what’s so obvious,” he said.

“Singing. We agreed you’d teach me, didn’t we?” I reminded him.

His eyes widened briefly before curling into an incredulous laugh. A dry chuckle escaped him. Tilting his coffee cup to hide his face, he fell silent. I watched him quietly for a moment.

“You were serious?” he asked.

“Of course I thought you were messing with me,” he added.

“Why would I mess with you for fun? You’re not that important in my heart to tease yet,” I said.

“…Is that so?” he replied.

The smartphone, paused mid-video, showed me singing from my recent stream. Sihyun’s hand hovered over it, as if he’d seen enough, but didn’t touch the screen to resume. It lingered, like it was circling something intangible.

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked.

“What?” I replied.

“If you’re not teasing me and don’t find me worth teasing, what’s your goal here?” he pressed.

Distrust. His eyes, fixed on me, held emotions too complex and alien to fully grasp, but the plea that he couldn’t trust me was clear enough. From cynicism to distrust—quite the progress. I let out a small laugh. It wasn’t an unanswerable question.

“I want you to become someone worth teasing in my heart,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“A rich, capable friend who gets my situation? That’s the jackpot,” I said with a shrug.

His expression, previously just wary, visibly hardened. He’s good at hiding his face, but maybe he’s actually pretty emotional, I thought fleetingly.

“Are you just shameless, or were you born a bit cruel?” he asked.

“Honest truth. …Does that make me shameless?” I replied.

“No money, no prospects, no skills, and a rotten personality. If that’s really your goal, cut it out,” he said.

His hand, hesitating over the phone, pushed it back toward me as if nothing had happened. Twirling his earphones around his finger, he continued in a low voice.

“I’m still not interested in you. Maybe we’re ‘rational’ or ‘similar’ in some ways, but I’m done expecting anything like that. Give it up. Just think, ‘What a weird person,’ and leave it at that,” he said.

Expectations for such things… My faint smile deepened. He’d probably think I was mocking him. Wounded heart, years of forced negativity and aggression—yet I didn’t believe he was inherently bad. The situation made him this way, nothing more. That’s what I chose to believe.

“You’ve never had friends, have you?” I asked.

“What’s that out of nowhere?” he snapped.

“I don’t want relationships weighed by value. Those things I mentioned? Side benefits. My real wish is for you to become someone worth teasing in my heart,” I said.

“Why not buy a punching bag instead?” he retorted.

I lifted my teacup, considered a sip, then set it down, savoring only its aroma. This place might do herbal tea better than coffee.

“People call that kind of relationship a friend,” I said.

“…Hah,” he scoffed.

I raised the corner of my mouth. Feeling in the mood, I carefully sipped the herbal tea. The subtle sweetness lingered pleasantly, prompting another sip, then another. Whether he noticed my waiting or not, his voice, now noticeably subdued, continued slowly.

“If that’s what you call a friend, then yeah, I’ve never had one,” he admitted.

“Heh. Thought so,” I said.

“Most of my relationships were business. The daughter of a conglomerate, genius soprano Choi Sihyun—people didn’t need me draped in luxury to want to be close. Someone planning to tease me and laugh about it? Never,” he said.

“I’ll be the first, then,” I declared.

“I haven’t said anything’s good yet,” he countered.

The café, still early, was quiet. The faint music seemed to drift further away, almost dreamlike.

“…Let’s rephrase. If it’s not about my background, why do you want to play this friend game? What’s so great about a boring, unpleasant person like me?” he asked.

I opened my mouth reflexively but hesitated. Was it okay to answer so easily? Maybe this was a chance—a chance to coax this broken person with something convincing…

“…Haha. Why ask something so obvious?” I said.

I shoved the tangled thoughts aside. I didn’t want to approach him with calculated words. Maybe he was someone who could truly understand my situation, yet unlike me, he was stuck nursing festering wounds, unable to smile. I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them slowly.

“Do you need a reason to like someone?” I asked.

If he’d despaired and collapsed under cold connections, if he’d buckled under that overwhelming tide, then even the warmth of one person might reach him. Pity, self-satisfaction, whatever—it didn’t matter. Person to person, like those around me had done for me, I wanted to affirm Choi Sihyun.

If he could accept that affirmation.

“The only reason Yoonseo needed to be loved was being Yoonseo,” I said.

“Should I say I’m jealous?” he replied.

His response felt fitting. Laughing softly, I gulped down the half-left herbal tea. It was hotter and more than expected, and I pressed the cup to my lips to avoid spilling, flustered. His incredulous stare shot toward me.

“Ugh, hot…” I mumbled.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting ready to go,” I said.

“Where?” he asked.

“Karaoke,” I replied.

“Why?” he pressed.

“We agreed you’d teach me to sing, didn’t we?” I said, adjusting my crooked cap.

His frown screamed confusion, but I decided not to care. I gazed at him, still seated, determined to wait until he stood.

“So work hard and become someone important enough in my heart to want to be friends with,” I said.

“Didn’t you just say you don’t need a reason to like someone?” he countered.

“Make ‘Choi Sihyun’ worth that much to me. A genius soprano with a loaded background, living it up—don’t tell me you can’t even do that?” I challenged.

Our eyes locked briefly, emotions passing silently. He sighed first. Scrape. His chair’s loud drag echoed through the café. The muffled, distant surroundings snapped back to reality. Was it too sentimental to feel he’d taken a step toward where I stood?

“…You sang terribly. For the sake of your poor viewers, I’ll have to waste some time,” he said.

“Why say it like that? ‘Waste’?” I protested.

“You’re not making a living off singing, are you?” he asked.

“Not every hobby’s a waste of time,” I countered.

“How do you not let me win a single word? This is getting weird—aren’t you the one who should be begging me to be friends?” he said.

“As expected, you’ve never had friends, have you?” I teased.