rie ☀️

Since then, Eunbyeol and Seokkyung have stayed in contact. They have lots to talk about this time, after all.

“Giving me a daffodil to earn my forgiveness? What a fool, you think I’m that easy?” “Come on, the florist plucked it out for me with lots of love!” “She might as well give you money then! Money is the greatest form of love!” “Shut that, Joo Seokkyung! You sound like an evil man wanting to take over mankind out of money.” “You mean like my father?” “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” and all shenanigans Seokkyung says to tease Eunbyeol of her so-called seeking forgiveness agenda.

Deep inside, Seokkyung knows more than anyone that Eunbyeol owes her nothing. There’s nothing that Seokkyung needs to forgive Eunbyeol for because all the things she had done were not just her fault. The bullying? The two of them instigated it with their own free will. Her mother’s death? Eunbyeol was merely shackled by Cheon Seojin. If that were her mom, she would’ve done worse. She knows it herself. 

“I’ve been taking a walk around the church compound, something I’ve never done since I got there.”

“Wow, you’re a hermit in the making,” Seokkyung fakes a gasp. “What made you touch grass then?”

“Well, you said you’re trying to find more side jobs. So I went through asking around if there’s one available,” then Eunbyeol enthusiastically hands her a couple of crumpled pamphlets. “And I’ve seen these plastered at the post lights.” Then she proceeds to scatter the postings one by one in front of the befuddled Seokkyung. “Waitress, homeschool tutor, and, uh… Janitress at the Mookwon building—but I hope you don’t accept this because I visited that place after seeing the job posting. It’s so big you might end up straining your body.”

“You must be kidding me,” Seokkyung’s mouth hangs open and it’s all she has managed to say.

“O-oh, why?” And now Eunbyeol seems flustered. “Did I go too far? I’m sorr—”

“I forgive you for your sins,” Seokkyung cuts her off, nodding, still wide-eyed at the pamphlets she’s reading one by one this time around. “Who knows you could be an angel if you tried?”

“Oh stop, you!” Eunbyeol reddens. For some reason, she still couldn’t get used to Seokkyung’s sharp mouth. If she had the gall to point it out, she wants the girl to stop being snarky and teasing all the time. It never fails to fluster her! “A-anyway, I didn’t do that for free, okay? You promised me you’d visit the church someday.”

“Oh…” Seokkyung seems to have totally forgotten about it, making Eunbyeol’s pout more apparent. “Heh, just kidding! Didn’t I tell you I’d do that in exchange for you visiting my class one of these days? Look at you being here at my table! Seriously, you don’t need to do this much for me.”

Eunbyeol could only smile. Well, she seems like she'd gone too far after all. It’s just that the thought of Seokkyung working near her residence fills her with warmth for some reason. Maybe Seokkyung’s right that fateful day they met at the cafe. Maybe she really has no friends to hang out with.

“But I’ll be sure to check these out,” Seokkyung beams at her, that bunny-like smile brightening Eunbyeol’s features. “I’ll pay you back with this effort one of these days, okay?”

There’s no need, really. Eunbyeol thinks to herself. Her presence is more than enough to keep her at ease. Who would’ve thought? The past Eunbyeol could never imagine clinging to Seokkyung subtly this way.

Seokkyung’s class comes, but not before she tours Eunbyeol all over the school first. The tiny art school was far from the grandeur of Cheong-Ah, but Seokkyung seems surprisingly at home in it. Watching her in action—pointing here and there, scolding running children in the hallway, glaring at the couple doing a public display of affection at a secluded spot, among others—is actually entertaining.

Now, Eunbyeol is seated at the back of the room, watching Seokkyung conduct the students. They abruptly halt when Seokkyung hisses sharply, immediately intimidated by the short gesture.

“Alright, kids, that was…” Seokkyung’s eyes narrow, taking a long, dramatic pause, then sighs. “Utterly despicable. Are you guys listening to yourselves? You can't be serious!” she groans, disappointment palpable.

Eunbyeol shakes her head in dismay all the while stifling her laugh. What a temper this teacher has. She just knows the students talk about her badly after class.

“But! Thank me because I’m your ever-so-passionate teacher and I’m sooo thrilled to watch you improve from sick frogs into actual loving singers!” The shift in demeanor made the students flinch. Some things never change, Eunbyeol could only say to herself. “Here’s my friend who used to be one of the pioneers in Cheong Ah Arts, Ha Eunbyeol! Come on, Eunbyeol, give them a piece.”

The students start whispering to each other upon hearing the familiar name. Eunbyeol hears them mentioning Cheon Seojin at one point while she makes her way to the front of the room—not that it surprised her, it’s indeed a controversial name known by aspiring singers and the like. That’s why Eunbyeol is so thankful Seokkyung didn’t introduce her as the then primadonna’s child. It’s as though she understands what it takes to separate oneself from a parent who has been your extension for so long.

Seokkyung doesn’t need to hush them to acquire silence, because as soon as Eunbyeol starts singing, all of them are quickly in awe. Well, Seokkyung isn’t excluded from the charm of her voice. Not only has it been a very long time since Eunbyeol sang in front of her, but she's also singing a song that has been the trademark of Bae Rona, Lascia ch'io pianga.

Rona, the girl whom Eunbyeol had deeply wronged.

Let me weep my cruel fate,

Seokkyung can only watch in silence. Eunbyeol sounds different than her usual strong croons. There’s a charming lilt to her voice, one more liberated contrary to the then Eunbyeol onstage guided by the then primadonna.

So that I may sigh at my lost freedom.

Seokkyung could notice the limitations brought by the slash Eunbyeol had inflicted on her own neck that fateful day in the trial court, but it never made it less beautiful. It lacks the pressure, the conscious gazing, the anxiety lurking underneath the big smile as she hits a falsetto.

Let me weep my cruel fate, so that I may sigh at my lost freedom.

If one would squint, unaware of the facet of whatever Eunbyeol is trying to reclaim, they would see it clearly while she sings. When Seokkyung heard Rona sing it at the big stadium for the first time, she wept, remembering all that’s lost and those they’re trying to live on. If not for her students watching right now, she would’ve cried too. But this time with Eunbyeol, she chooses to smile—proudly so—for the kindness crooning out of Eunbyeol’s once shattered and rotten heart.

Grief may shatter the bonds of my sufferings out of pity alone

Eunbyeol has already come so far, maybe even farther than Seokkyung could ever go—she knows it herself. If there’s someone in this sinful world who would deserve most redemption and forgiveness—as much as she wants it to be her—it would be no other than the girl singing in front of her. Eunbyeol whom she thinks never got the privilege of a mom as kind as Suryeon’s, and yet is trying her best to live with it and atone for being Seojin’s daughter.

She owns herself the same way she owns her and her mother’s sin.

And not everyone in this world could go that far.

Seokkyung hid her face from the students to wipe a tear.

When the students are dismissed and Seokkyung busies herself fixing the chairs, Eunbyeol approaches with a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, how was it? Not so pioneer Cheong-Ah student now, am I?”

Seokkyung looks at her, eyebrows arched. “Who would’ve known Ha Eunbyeol’s most captivating performance would not be onstage, but in a measly classroom five times smaller than Cheong Ah’s? Not so pioneer indeed, how are you hide that from the school that brought you up?!”

Eunbyeol’s laugh echoes all over the room, pleasuring Seokkyung’s ear unknowingly. “But speak of, I pity your kids! My goodness, Seokkyung, don’t you think that was a bit harsh? They’re not from Cheong-Ah.”

Seokkyung rolls her eyes, arms crossed. “Come on, they deserve it! Have you ever heard them sing? If that performance were an audition, they wouldn’t even make it into a karaoke bar!”

Eunbyeol tsks, shaking her head. “Maybe have a little patience? You know, encouragement goes a long way. Not every student can be scolded into greatness like we were back then.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried encouragement,” Seokkyung lets out an exasperated sigh. “They need something stronger—like divine intervention.” But her expression softens just a bit when her gaze lands at Eunbyeol. “Oh well, you should’ve seen their faces when you sang for them—they looked positively hopeless.”

At this, Eunbyeol’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. She looks down, fumbling with the strap of her bag. If this remark comes from someone like Seokkyung, it is indeed praise worth noting. It makes it even harder for her to believe. She touches the scar on her neck, the very scar that has ruined her singing for good. “You’re… being nice. You don’t have to say that just because we’re friends.”

But then, Seokkyung seems to know that for a fact. She raises an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering as she snarks, “Haven’t you figured out that I don’t sugarcoat things?”

And so the latter could only smile shyly, the compliment settling in her chest like a pleasant warmth. Her elderly choirmates have always praised her, but now, for some reason, it sounds different with Seokkyung. This time, her praises are holding weight, something about it that makes her feel flustered in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Actually, the fluster has been happening more often than she cares to admit.

“Alright, alright,” Eunbyeol manages to say, clearing her throat as she gathers herself. “Well, I’m flattered… I think.” Then a small laugh follows suit as she looks away. “But you could still go a little easier on them. I’m sure they’re doing their best.”

Seokkyung rolls her eyes, a glimmer of playful mischief in it. After all, lately, she seems to have a hard time denying Eunbyeol. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to be nicer. Just don’t expect me to start handing out hugs and compliments every time they sing in tune.”

“Oh god. Wouldn’t want you to break character, don’t worry.” The latter shudders at the thought of it, though it doesn’t seem that bad if Eunbyeol thinks about it. “I think they’d be too scared if you suddenly got all sweet on them.”

The warmth lingers for the rest of the afternoon especially whenever she thinks of Seokkyung’s words. Her honesty—although unfiltered most of the time—makes Eunbyeol admire her in a manner she hasn’t felt before, not in a long time at least. They part ways when evening comes, leaving Eunbyeol with a bubbling warmth in her chest.

Much to her oblivion, however, Seokkyung would feel the exact way weeks after, when she finally visits Eunbyeol’s choir practice.

At first, she finds herself sitting at the back of the church, croons of the elderly voices surrounding her as they rehearse. Eunbyeol seems to lead them, completely in her element, voice soft but commanding, as though she was born to do just that—to nurture the singing voices of people whose caliber might never even meet hers. Seokkyung watches, in awe, as she witnesses a Cheon Seojin if she instead became a teacher more passionate and gentler, merely smiling and chuckling at the mistakes her students commit, and having them really hung on to her every instruction. She can't tear her eyes away from Eunbyeol as she gently corrects the altos and nods in approval whenever her sopranos hit the right note. Eunbyeol is loved here, respected, and it’s clear she deserves it after everything she has gone through.

As much as Seokkyung doesn’t want to admit, this way of teaching bears fruit at the end of the practice because they have sung surprisingly well. A bunch of amateurs have managed to tickle Seokkyung’s ears, all because of Eunbyeol’s gentle teaching. What a day worth noting.

But most importantly, she’s afraid Eunbyeol might be wrong. These people are more than just choir members or friends as she claims so—they are like family to her, doting on her with affection that reminded Seokkyung of a time long past, a time when things were simpler when Eunbyeol was just a snarky little teenager who lives off people’s praises.

“Seokkyung!” Eunbyeol calls her out in surprise, her yelp snapping her back from the ponders. Seems like she had spotted Seokkyung in the back corner where she’d been sitting silently for the last hour, and now Eunbyeol’s face is full of worry. “How long have you been here?”

Seokkyung looks up, startled. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed, the last few hours seemingly vanishing like sand through her fingers. When she glanced around, she could see the evening light fading outside, and to her surprise, it was already past dinner time. She never expected to just sit there throughout the whole practice. Hell, she was supposed to introduce herself to Eunbyeol’s choirmates! But there’s something about the atmosphere that made her forget the ticking clock and the encroaching worries of her own feelings. 

“Oh, I just got here,” she lies, not wanting to admit she’d been sitting there far longer than she intended. “You’re busy. I didn’t want to interrupt your practice.”

Eunbyeol, still frowning, doesn’t seem convinced, but since Seokkyung looks out of it, she just softly nudges. “You must be starving then. Come on, let’s go grab dinner. You’re gonna come back here next practice and I’m gonna introduce you to them, okay?”

At dinner, they settle into a quiet corner of a small, local restaurant, with the warm scent of kimchi filling the air. Seokkyung took a sip of water before saying the thing on her mind while observing the girl. “Your choir mates seem... really kind.” 

Eunbyeol’s face lights up. “They are! They’re doting in a manner that could be quite concerning, but I like it more than I can imagine. Sometimes I feel like I’m their honorary child.” Then all of a sudden, she sounds and looks like a kid all giddy and nice with her storytelling, her voice full of warmth. “ They always ask about me, make sure I’m okay... especially the mothers. Did I mention the time when I wasn’t in the mood to eat until one of them pulled out a huge casserole of seaweed soup for everyone to share? They did it just to fill my stomach because they don’t want to see me losing weight!”

Seokkyung laughs, the sound surprisingly light. “I can see why you enjoy it here. You’re the baby of the group now, huh?”

“I love it!” Eunbyeol grins, a little sheepish. “They worry about me a lot, but... it’s kind of nice. To have people worry about someone like me, as much as I don’t deserve it.”

Seokkyung almost counters her statement quickly, but then she realizes it’s not the time for that. Not yet. “Must be nice. You seem to be equally worried about them. Doing your best to improve their singing and all that.” She stares down at her food, unsure why she suddenly feels a pang of something unfamiliar in her chest.

“Next time you come, I’ll introduce you to them! They’ve been asking about you too, you know.” Eunbyeol says enthusiastically. “They’re all curious why I’ve been hanging out with a teacher from the small art school. They think it’s adorable that I have someone my age to talk to.”

Seokkyung can’t help but laugh at the thought. “They want to set me up with someone, huh?”

“No!” Eunbyeol chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s not like that. I’d be mad if they do that.”

"Well, next time we will. I’ll have to check my schedule though. I’ve been so busy that I barely have time for anything else. The school’s been quite... well, difficult.”

Eunbyeol leans forward, concern flashing in her eyes. “What happened?”

“One of my part-time jobs didn’t pay me on time. It made me miss my rent. I’m trying to make up for it, but now the landlord’s really pushing me. I have to find a way to come up with the rent soon, really.”

Eunbyeol’s expression falters, her heart aching for Seokkyung. “You should ask Seokhoon for help. He’s doing well now, right? A successful pianist and all...”

But then, mentioning Seokhoon abruptly brings a pang of guilt in Eunbyeol’s chest. The last time she saw him, he had been nothing but kind to her. He’s the only one who had visited her at the hospital to thank her for what she had done, and to apologize for what happened to her Mom.

And Bae Rona, the person she’s been trying to rid of her head for so long.

She hadn’t seen them in years, but the thought of their successful lives made her feel like an outsider. She hurt them both so much back then, and she still feels the weight of her sins.

What cuts her ruminations off is Seokkyung shaking her head vehemently. “No! I’d rather die than ask him for help. He’s... he’s not someone I can depend on, not after everything.”

Eunbyeol falls silent. What a stubborn girl, she almost chuckles. She could see the deep pride in Seokkyung, the same pride that had driven her to such extremes in the past. It’s clear that no matter how much Seokkyung is struggling, she would rather endure it all than seek help from the people who love her.

“That’s going to kill you one day.”

Seokkyung scoffs, her eyes bitter. “Maybe it should. It’s what I deserve.”

There, Eunbyeol is rendered into silence. Seems like she’s not the only one who deems so lowly of herself. The things she had done, the people she had hurt, all that darkness still lingered in her, clouding her self-worth.

Eunbyeol bites her lip, thinking for a moment before she blurts out an unexpected offer.

“Live with me, then.”

“W-what?”

“It’s hard managing the house all on my own. It gets lonely, you know,” Eunbyeol continues, her voice more confident now. “My dad’s old place has an extra room. We don’t have to worry about rent—it’s part of a small complex he owned and rented for others before he passed away.”

Seokkyung stares at her, speechless for a long moment. “But... I can’t repay you immediately.”

Eunbyeol smiles softly, gaze steady. “In exchange, help me find a pet. That place has always been so empty since I moved in. I think a cat would bring life to it, no? How about a dog? The thought of someone waiting for me at home kind of excites me!”

Seokkyung hesitates, her mind spinning. The offer seems too good to be true. She had been downplaying the situation with her landlord, but now it seemed like this might be the lifeline she needed.

Finally, she nods meekly, so unlikely of the prideful Joo Seokkyung. “O-okay. I’ll think about it.”

They share a quiet moment sitting across from each other, both tentative yet hopeful. They both have their burdens, but for the first time in a long time, they’re not carrying them alone.

Now, it’s Tuesday, and you’ve been making an honest effort to avoid these thoughts. Avoiding these thoughts might involve avoiding her. Unfortunately for you, it’s hard to explain that you’re not avoiding her per se, but rather the effect she’s been having on you.

It doesn't take long for Okgyeong to notice, though. Her gaze lingers on you, speculative, brows rising as she seems to study your movements. If she suspects you’re hiding something, she doesn’t say so. But nonetheless, her glances feel just a bit more pointed, and it’s obvious she’s planning something.

The first time she corners you is at lunch. She walks up to you in the secluded part of the cafeteria, a playful glint in her eyes, a drink in hand. She plops herself into the seat across from you, looking altogether too pleased.

“So,” she begins, her voice lilting, “where have you been hiding?”

“Oh, nowhere,” you mumble, feigning intense interest in your soup.

Okgyeong chuckles, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. “Come on. I’m not that boring, am I?”

“W-what?” you glance up, attempting to stay normal, but how could you, really? How, when she’s staring at you with that lopsided smile—her expression warm, her gaze unwavering? She’s close enough that you can catch a faint hint of her perfume, and when you don’t answer immediately, she tilts her head—bloody hell, you swear she’s intentionally batting her lashes at you.

It’s too much.

You find yourself stammering out some excuse about needing to hurry out from lunch, but not before she arches a brow, looking genuinely intrigued by your flustered retreat.

“Interesting…” she murmurs, watching you escape.

The second time is later in the afternoon. You’re walking down the hall (hoping to stay out of sight) when you hear her heels clicking toward you. You barely have time to dodge her when she scoots beside you, matching your pace with an amused smile.

“Oh, hey!” she says a little too brightly. “It’s been a while since I saw you around here.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “uh, busy, you know?”

She hums thoughtfully, but she doesn’t fall back. Instead, she slips her hand around your elbow, gently nudging you to slow down. “Busy, huh?” Her fingers are soft against your sleeve, just enough to feel the warmth of her hand through the fabric. “You know, you can tell me if I’m bothering you. Just say the word.”

Okgyeong's voice is almost a whisper; when you look up, she’s already watching you with that darn playful gleam in her eyes. You’re so caught off guard by the proximity and the casual warmth of her touch that you can barely form words. It takes you a while to deny the allegation, “Y-you’re not bothering me. Not at all.”

She grins, looking satisfied, and pats your arm before letting you go. “Good. I’d hate to think I was scaring you off.”

But your damned blush did more than proving the avoiding the Moon Okgyeong allegations, much to this woman's amusement.

Later that evening, as you’re about to leave for the day, you pass by the bar where you both usually hang out. You’re almost home free—almost—when a familiar figure calls out your name.

“Hey!” Okgyeong waves from the bar, brows raised, all with a mischievous glint. “Fancy running into you here.”

You consider just waving back and heading home, but she gestures you over before you have a chance to think. She pulls a seat next to her, patting it with that devilish smile of hers. “Come on. Just a quick drink, please?”

Reluctantly, you sit. You’re barely able to look her in the eye, but Okgyeong doesn’t seem to mind. She leans in close, propping her chin on her hand again. “What’s up with you lately?” she asks, her tone light, but her eyes keen. “It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

You chuckle nervously, desperately looking for an excuse that doesn’t sound ridiculous. “I’m not avoiding you. It’s… just been a long week.”

Her eyes narrow, the same glint reappearing deep within. “Oh really?” Then she taps her fingers against the table and leans closer—practically whispering in your ear—when she adds, “Because it almost seems like you’re nervous around me.”

You try to laugh it off, but it’s weak, and she doesn’t let up. Her hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, her touch feather-light. “What’s got you so shy all of a sudden, hm?”

That’s when you feel yourself blush, something fierce and unstoppable. She’s closer than ever, watching your reaction like she’s savoring every second of it. Finally, you manage to glance up at her, catching her knowing smirk.

“Oh, so you can look at me after all, huh?” she murmurs, that teasing warmth in her eyes. You’re too flustered to come up with any response, but Okgyeong doesn’t press. She leans back with a satisfied sigh, a smug little smile on her face.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know?” she says casually, looking far too pleased with herself. And as you sit there, trying to recover from the whiplash of her teasing, you realize you’re completely outmatched.

Whatever this effect is she has on you, it’s not going away anytime soon.

It’s early Saturday morning. You’re still bleary-eyed, halfway through a cup of coffee in fact, when your doorbell suddenly rings. To your shock, it’s Okgyeong on the other side with her sickly gorgeous smirk as though she’s been waiting all week for this.

“Surprise!” she leans casually against your doorframe. “I figured since you’re hiding from me during the week, I’d just come to you.”

You blink, too stunned to respond as she immediately makes herself home. She pokes around your kitchen, looks at the books on your shelves, then she gives you a knowing look as she picks up a book you haven’t touched in years. “So… we’re hanging out here today, right?”

“Are you kidding me, Moon Okgyeong?”

“You bet.”

A few hours later, after you’ve given up on having any personal space, you reluctantly agree to bring her along to a family gathering for lunch. Just as you’re praying she’ll behave, she decides to introduce herself to your parents. But it’s not a casual introduction—take note—but rather one where she plants herself in front of your parents, bows formally, and in a deep, serious tone, she says, “Hello. I’m Moon Okgyeong. I’ll be looking after your daughter from now on.”

Your family goes wide-eyed, glancing back and forth between you and her. Okgyeong, meanwhile, gives them a proud, almost princely smile, even reaching over to give your shoulder a little squeeze. It’s all you can do to stammer out an explanation as she calmly, confidently endears herself to everyone in the room.

Later that day, you head out for a quiet trip to the grocery store, asking her (begging is a much better term for it, honestly) to stay put at home as you gather some air. However, as you’re reaching for some vegetables, you spot a familiar figure approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here! Although I thought you're just someplace outside seeking air,” she chirps, leaning casually on her shopping cart. She glances at your cart, eyebrow raised. “Not going to let me accompany you with cooking dinner? You know I’m great in the kitchen.”

“How long are you planning to stay in my house, anyway?”

Instead of answering, however, she’s already loading your stuff into her own cart, chatting away about a recipe she’s decided she’ll teach you tonight. “This will be so much better if I’m there to help,” she insists, giving you a wink that leaves you both annoyed and completely flustered.

She leaves you alone after dinner, but not with a promise to hang out again tomorrow.

And so, before her arrival on Sunday morning, you try to sneak out to the park for a quick jog in hopes to clear your mind. But somehow, Okgyeong has the same idea! She appears beside you, dressed in sleek workout gear and stretching in the most eye-catching way possible.

“Mind if I join?” she asks innocently, though her smirk suggests she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You're hanging out at my house with those sweatpants?!”

“You said I should make myself at home.”

“You did so without me telling you!”

“Oh, really?” she chuckles, “I quite have the gall, don't I?”

Throughout the jog, she keeps an easy pace, occasionally running circles around you, and flashing you that infuriating grin whenever you start to slow down. When you’re finally out of breath, she insists on helping you stretch, her hands gently pressing on your back as she “guides” you into poses, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered protests.

By the end of day, you’re exhausted, hence you finally settle in for a quiet evening with a movie. Okgyeong excused herself, claiming that she had some errands to finish for the rest of the afternoon.

Only if she told you she would be knocking at your door again halfway through the opening credits.

“Movie night without me? You’re really trying to break my heart here.”

“Okgyeong…?”

She's just standing there, holding a tub of ice cream. “Guess I’ll just have to crash your movie night,” she says, walking in without waiting for an invitation.

She settles herself on your couch, close enough that her shoulder brushes yours, and even reaches over to drape a blanket over both of you. Throughout the movie, she comments on random scenes, sometimes leaning in close to whisper something silly in your ear, making you laugh and blush despite yourself.

By the time the credits roll, you’re too tired to protest, and she gives you a satisfied smile as she takes your hand. “See?” she murmurs, squeezing your hand gently. “You don’t need to avoid me. I’ll always find you.”