Chapter 132: Foreign Festival (1)
Part 1
“…Can you say that one more time?”
“I’m really sorry, sunbae, but could you perform on stage at the festival, just once…”
My fingers, tapping away at the keyboard, froze. It was definitely Korean, but my first thought was, What did I just hear?
“…Sunbae?” the junior ventured.
“You do remember I only joined the festival committee because you begged me, right?”
I’d resolved to live quietly, but with an appearance like this, blending into college life unnoticed was a pipe dream. Still, I genuinely tried to avoid attention. Despite my face being known to those in the know, I’d brushed off student council and club invitations—not out of some loner complex, but to keep things low-key.
After returning to school, I’d spent a year shuttling between lecture halls, keeping my head down. My efforts to maintain a peaceful campus life were undone by a graduating senior’s request, landing me on the festival committee.
A good person? Debatable. But I owed them enough that their “last favor before graduation” plea roped me into this conspicuous role.
“No, but you’re the only one I could ask for something like this…” the junior stammered.
“You should’ve mediated better. Not my problem. I’m not fixing it.”
“How could I predict they’d fight over performance slots, break bones, and bail?”
“You knew the clubs didn’t get along. You should’ve coordinated better.”
Without looking up from my laptop, I could tell the junior was standing there, flustered. A brief silence. The borrowed club room was quiet, thanks to prior arrangements—unusually so for a typically bustling space. Am I typing that hard? I wondered briefly.
“…Haa,” I sighed.
“Sunbae…?”
“No celebrities booked this year either, huh?”
“Yeah, with last year’s pandemic messing up schedules, even the usual performers couldn’t commit.”
“Hmm…”
My fingers paused on the keyboard. I’m graduating this year too. Honestly, I wasn’t keen on enjoying the festival, so whether it flopped didn’t matter much. As long as I handled my assigned tasks, I’d done my duty, right?
“I’ll fill the empty slot somehow,” I said.
“Sunbae, thank you so much…!”
“But.”
I gently pushed back the junior’s forehead as they leaned over the desk, practically lunging. Their wide-eyed reaction to my condition made me think next year’s festival would be just as chaotic.
“No afterparty.”
“What, sunbae?!”
“Don’t like it? Then you perform with the broken-limbed kids.”
“No way!”
I didn’t want to drink or mingle in crowds. If this was my excuse to skip, it might be worth the effort. Maintaining a neutral expression, I quietly savored the thought.
Part 2
“…Can you say that one more time?”
“Just perform for about 30 minutes.”
“Do you know how much my hourly rate is, Yoonseo-ssi?”
The annoyingly refreshing voice on the phone sounded flustered. The usual cheesy charm was gone, and their repeated questioning felt oddly amusing.
“So, we’ll call it even for the debt you owe me, Sihyun-ssi.”
“When did I rack up a debt that big?”
“Not doing it then?”
I called it a debt, but I wasn’t sure it qualified. That he felt fondness and gratitude toward me was clear, but had I truly done anything for him? I’d have to shake my head.
Simply put, he’d been ready to give up on life. I was just a small nudge that made him step back from the cliff’s edge. Turning away from the abyss was entirely his choice, his resolve.
“…When’s the date?”
“Two weeks from now.”
“Haa… I’ll call back in an hour.”
“You’ll do it?”
“I don’t know if I can. If I had a month to adjust my schedule, I’d say yes for sure.”
“You were never going to say no, were you?”
“Hanging up.”
The call ended, Sihyun’s sighs fading. Sprawled on my bed, staring at the phone, I let out a soft chuckle. He’s usually so shameless with his cringe-worthy lines, but being teased embarrasses him?
“Hope this resolves easily…”
My confidence in promising to fix the slot—partly to skip the afterparty—stemmed 70% from Sihyun’s existence. An baseless certainty he wouldn’t refuse. Using someone’s goodwill wasn’t exactly comfortable, but my morals weren’t strong enough to ignore the tempting option of calling him. Or maybe…
“…Maybe I want him to move on from me.”
I’d known for a while he felt something for me. Not quite the rational affection between people, but something heavier, murkier—not love, not obsession, but closer to a sense of indebtedness.
“Hmm…”
He didn’t value material things much. Whether from a life of abundance or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care for expensive bags or lavish vacations. Inviting me to his private island villa for a swim wasn’t about repaying a debt—it was just because there was no reason not to, no one else to invite, and seeing me enjoy it would be nice.
Knowing this vaguely, I rarely asked him for anything. I might ask his sharp mind for advice, but never his wealth. Such requests would make us both uncomfortable.
This favor, though, was a first—a burden for him. Not entirely unrelated to money, but not directly tied either. Like our past interactions, it was a request for Sihyun the person, not his resources.
“Maybe I went too far with this…”
Our relationship wasn’t exactly easy, even as a figure of speech. When the junior mentioned the schedule gap, Sihyun’s face popped into my mind—maybe because I, too, wanted to resolve this uneasy dynamic.
We share similar experiences, similar struggles. That one-sided, uncomfortable sense of debt between us? It’d be better gone.
“Phew…”
I buried my face in the soft pillow. The cool weather post-early autumn made the pillowcase pleasantly chilly. 6 p.m. Thoughts of preparing dinner tangled with overwhelming fatigue. It felt like a single stalled gear had stopped my entire body.