Chapter 85: Single-mindedness (2)

Part 5

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” Sihyun said.

“…Yeah, it turned out that way,” I replied.

The same café, the same seat as last time. Familiar pop songs drifted through the air. That same unreadable, eerie smile on his face. The only difference? Instead of coffee, a cup of herbal tea sat before him.

I took a deep breath, then let it out. Were my clenched, trembling fists visible to those narrowed eyes? The thought crossed my mind as I cautiously approached the seat across from him—Choi Sihyun.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to be the one to suggest meeting again,” he said.

“…It felt wrong to leave things like that,” I replied.

“Are you gay?”

His blunt question left me dumbfounded, my face blank. It took a moment to process what he meant. His eyes, locked onto my stunned expression, soon curved into a silent, sly smirk.

“Wow. Looking that clueless and still pulling it off? You’re blessed, Yoonseo-ssi,” he teased.

“…That’s not why I asked to meet,” I said.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself so much, I wondered if you’ve always been like this or if it started after the change. Thought maybe you liked guys now, but I guess not?” he continued.

His snickering laugh blended into the pop song. I glanced around instinctively, but he sipped his tea nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care who overheard.

“I didn’t ask to meet to fight,” I said.

“I never said we were fighting,” he countered.

“I wanted to talk,” I said.

“Didn’t I already share enough?” he asked.

“Not about me,” I replied.

Thankfully, it was a weekday morning, far from lunchtime. Most customers grabbed takeout, leaving few lingering at tables. Scanning the sparse crowd, absorbed in their own tasks, I pulled my cap lower.

“Honestly, I’m not that curious about you,” he said.

“Please listen,” I urged.

“Why?” he asked.

“So I can understand you,” I answered.

His hand, lifting the teacup, slowly traced circles. The faint clink of ice filled the pause. His unchanging expression and steady gaze felt like they were appraising my thoughts. I barely suppressed the urge to look away.

“…Haha. This won’t be a short story. Want something to drink?” he offered.

“…A latte, please,” I said.

“Perfect timing—I’m done with mine. I’ll order for us,” he said.

His smiling lips downed the remaining herbal tea in one go.

“…Is drinking hot stuff a hobby?” I asked.

“When you don’t want to use your voice, swallowing something scalding becomes routine. Now it barely fazes me,” he replied.

Part 6

I calmly recounted my unremarkable story of change.

Family, Dr. Kang, friends, streaming, my application to return to school, the past, the future. Sad moments, joyful ones, painful ones, and those I could still smile through.

Across from me, he listened in silence, his face fixed in an emotionless smile.

Two fresh café lattes sat untouched, cooling quietly. Stirring the straw aimlessly, I unraveled memory after memory.

New connections formed in this form. Acceptance, not resignation. Change. The memories shaping who I am now, built layer by layer. I peeled them back, explaining how I reached this point.

“…Saying it out loud, it’s just a bunch of silly things I overthought,” I admitted.

“Is that so?” he replied.

“A guy wearing makeup and a skirt didn’t need some grand event, I guess,” I said.

I sipped the cold coffee. His flat tone met my calm reply. The conversation stalled, the untouched coffee trickling into the silence.

“So?” he prompted.

“If I said nothing really changed, would that insult you?” I asked.

No reply. Another sip of coffee vanished down his throat.

“…I didn’t mean it’s all about mindset,” I clarified.

“Thought you were telling me to take a hit and move on, but I guess not,” he said.

What should I say? How could I help him stop despairing? What could I, an outsider, do for him? What did he need? What had I been given? My eyes caught the faint scar on his exposed wrist—a burn mark. I almost asked what happened but held back.

“Teach me how to sing well,” I said.

“Mind if I chuck this cup at your head?” he retorted.

“I’m serious, not joking,” I insisted.

It all boiled down to one thing, didn’t it? What he lacked, what I still had: family, friends, people to trust, their warmth. Just that—someone’s warmth.

Looking at his cold smile, I forced my brightest one yet, praying it outshone any before. Pity, self-satisfaction, a faint sense of duty—whatever it was, no one should have to live killing themselves. I’d decided to live joyfully my way.

“I told you I started streaming. I’m bad at games, not much of a talker. But my voice is decent. If I could learn to sing from a genius soprano and use it sometimes, wouldn’t that be fate?” I said.

His hand, gripping the coffee cup, loosened silently. His face went blank. Surprised? I wasn’t sure yet.

“…You’re way cheekier than you look. You change by the minute,” he said.

“Don’t like it?” I asked.

This time, he stood first. His expression, shadowed by the lighting, was unreadable.

“Meet me here Thursday, same time. That okay?” he asked.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied.

I stared blankly at his retreating figure. A long shot? Or the right move? I just hoped for progress. I sipped the two-thirds-full, lukewarm coffee, its taste an ambiguous mix of sweet and bitter.

Part 7

• Nuna, singing out of nowhere?
• Didn’t you say you only learned piano lololol

“Singing while playing the piano—isn’t that super cool?” I said.

Maybe because I’d settled for toast for lunch, I felt a bit hungry but not enough to eat heavily. Back home, changed into comfy clothes, I started the stream with now-familiar motions. As the viewer count climbed, chats questioning the “singing practice” title popped up.

“Playing the piano again felt fun. If I practice and add variety, I could coast through a few streams, right?” I said.

• She’s adapted ;
• Nuna’s changed…
• Who are you!!!! Get out of Jeokranun’s body!!!!

Giggling, I glanced between the chat and the screen. Low male vocals like before would be tough now. Thinking of female vocal tracks, I pulled up their MRs. I’d try a few I thought were okay, gauge reactions, then decide whether to take more suggestions or end with some banter.

“But I’m really bad at singing,” I admitted.

• With that voice?
• If you’re bad with that voice, that’d be shocking lol

“You might learn today that a good voice doesn’t mean good singing,” I warned.

• Gap moe!!!
• That’s a reward
• For real lol

What isn’t a reward to these people? Smiling faintly, I hit play… then stopped.

“…By the way, everyone,” I said.

• ????
• Getting shy now?

“My brother installed a program for karaoke-like reverb effects, but… how do I use it?” I asked.