Empathy

September 18th. The day Kang Yu-na and Kim Se-jun's album dropped.

He looked down at his phone, and a bitter smile tugged at his mouth.

The name sitting immovable at the very peak of the digital charts.

Lim Tae-hyun's track, released a full week earlier, had seized first place in a single stroke. Three days after it dropped, the song was already sitting at number one, and it held that throne now the way an iron fortress holds a hill — unmoving, unassailable.

Then there was his song with Kang Yu-na. He dragged his thumb down the chart until the title slid into view. Twelfth. Not a bad opening run. Personally, he was satisfied; compared to Lotus, this was a far smoother launch. But the moment Kang Yu-na's face rose in his mind, a quiet disappointment settled in his chest. She would not be content with this ranking. That much was certain.

"This time, I'm doing it. No matter what."

Kim Se-jun closed his fist and swore it to himself. The goal he had failed to reach with his first song, Lotus — this time, he would take it.

Friday of release week. Kim Se-jun came to SBC Broadcasting Station for Simcheongga's first music-show stage.

The waiting-room corridor of the broadcast-center studio in Yeouido. The moment he arrived, his head went light.

Is this heaven...?

A feast of idols enough to steal the soul of any true-blue uncle-fan. He whipped his head to the right. Then to the left. Either direction — a hallway overflowing with idols. A grin broke wide across Kim Se-jun's face. He had been to more concerts than he could count, but he had never once set foot at a fansign. To be precise, he had never actually won a ticket. Naturally, he had never had the chance to see idols this close.

"Hello! We're Shine Girl!"

"Ah — hello."

"Your song this time is seriously so good! We're fans!"

And that was only the beginning. Several of them came up to greet him, smiling as they called themselves fans. Kim Se-jun's cheekbones were on the verge of lifting off. He could not hold the smile down.

"Oppa. Why are you grinning like an idiot?"

Just as he was drowning past the point of rescue, Kang Yu-na tapped his shoulder. A faint dampness still clung to her fingers, as if she had just come from the restroom.

"Huh? Yu-na."

The instant she appeared in the corridor, every singer's attention snapped toward her. Jealousy and envy. Admiration and respect. Their eyes carried every shade of feeling at once.

Even here, she's in a class of her own.

Even among this gathering of names that actually meant something, her standing was an open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠secret. An untouchable top-tier no one dared to challenge.

"You're confident about today's broadcast, right?"

She said it with a bright little smile, and Kim Se-jun nodded.

"Of course. It's our first stage."

Her eyes curved into crescents, pleased with the answer.

She's not as down as I expected.

It was Friday now. Their song sat at number eight. A modest climb, but the distance to Lim Tae-hyun was still considerable. Kang Yu-na tilted her head at the puzzled look on his face.

"What is it?"

Then, as if something had clicked, she let out a short gasp.

"Ah! Don't tell me you thought I was moping because we didn't hit number one?"

The words struck the bullseye, and Kim Se-jun flinched.

"Oppa. We haven't even had the song out for a week. No need to rush, right?"

She smiled faintly, and he answered with an awkward laugh of his own. She was tougher than he had given her credit for.

"Haaahm... I'll head into the waiting room first. I didn't sleep, so I'm a little tired."

Kang Yu-na let out a long yawn and turned. Kim Se-jun watched her back disappear through the waiting-room door, then turned his own steps toward his.

And that was when a man with a cold smile entered his field of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vision. His face burned. That gaze would not leave it.

Lim Tae-hyun...

"Hello. I'm Kim Se-jun."

He would be a criminal someday, but for now he was a senior singer. Kim Se-jun greeted him first, and Lim Tae-hyun answered with a slight nod.

"This is our first meeting, isn't it?"

A smooth voice. You could tell just from hearing it — this man had been blessed. And his face, seen up close. Kim Se-jun's expression furrowed, though he was careful not to show it.

Damn it. He's disgustingly handsome.

A flash of irritation surged up — at a man who possessed talent this overflowing, and had still destroyed himself. But at the same time he felt a deep, unwilling pity. This man's life would eventually plunge into ruin.

"Yes. First time. I'm sorry, but I need to prepare for the stage..."

He hid what he felt and answered in a blunt tone. There was nothing to gain from sharing the same air.

"I see."

Lim Tae-hyun smiled faintly. Just as Kim Se-jun was about to walk past him, the man leaned in close and spoke in a low voice.

"But would it be all right if I offered some advice, as your senior?"

"Of course."

He did not particularly want to hear it, but refusing would have been more awkward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still. At the answer, the smile that had sat on Lim Tae-hyun's face the entire time vanished.

"That unique concept you're pushing — tone it down. It's an eyesore. Don't advertise how talentless you are. Aren't you ashamed, calling yourself a singer with skills like that? Just because you can play a little gayageum, don't go acting like you're something special."

"...!"

Every syllable was dripping with hostility.

What's with this all of a sudden?

Criticism he had not seen coming at all. Kim Se-jun, who had no idea what was moving behind those words, wore a momentarily stunned expression. He was at a loss. What had he done wrong to deserve this? When he looked at him with startled eyes, Lim Tae-hyun's face was full of scorn.

Ha... this is ridiculous.

At the sudden verbal assault, Kim Se-jun let out a hollow laugh inwardly. A blatant provocation. He could have ignored it if he wanted. Unlike with Song Dae-jun, though, he did not feel like letting this one slide. He had the years to laugh off a young man's petty jealousy. But a man was entitled to a little immaturity now and then.

Swallowing the anger bubbling in his gut, Kim Se-jun set a hand on Lim Tae-hyun's shoulder.

"Hold on a second."

"What? You have something to say?"

A face full of that insufferable smile. Looking at it, Kim Se-jun smiled back — coldly — and added just one line.

"...!"

The scorn on Lim Tae-hyun's face crumbled in an instant.

"W-what is that supposed to mean?"

He could not hide the panic. The words stumbled out of him.

"It's not too late. Turn yourself in. You should at least get the sentence reduced."

Kim Se-jun said it with a pleasant smile. The smile was there, but the tone underneath it was absolute. The color drained from Lim Tae-hyun's face. His complexion went deathly pale. Looking at him, Kim Se-jun bowed his head slightly and turned away.

From this day forward, Lim Tae-hyun would live every hour trembling. His weakness was not a crime that could be taken lightly. A narcotics offender — and worse. Lim Tae-hyun was also a drug distributor, a sinner in the public eye.

"Oppa. Why do you look like that? Did something happen?"

Backstage. Kang Yu-na, waiting to prepare for the next stage, asked in an uneasy voice. Something in his face looked unsettled.

"Hmm? No. Nothing happened."

Kim Se-jun shook his head lightly and smiled. He did not feel particularly good. Lim Tae-hyun's last expression — that shattered face. Holding someone's weakness. A weakness that could destroy everything they had. It was not a pleasant feeling. Kang Yu-na tilted her head, watching him sink into thought.

"Yu-na! Se-jun! You're on!"

At the staff member's call, the two of them started walking. Dressed in elegant hanbok, they stepped out onto the wide stage. Kim Se-jun went to sit before the gayageum placed at the side; Kang Yu-na headed for center stage. She turned her head slightly to look at him. He smiled at her gaze and nodded, and she let out a small laugh of her own. Then a gentle melody began to flow.

It opened on Kang Yu-na's part. Kim Se-jun plucked the gayageum in time with her — a soft, tranquil line. The voices of the sanjo daegeum and the taepyeongso wove through it, and together with the gayageum's melody the stage filled in an instant with a rich, shifting palette of sound. The sound of gugak. Kang Yu-na began to lay her clear, crystalline voice over it.

God. That tone is gorgeous.

The first time in his life he had ever plucked a gayageum for someone else's voice. But a voice like this was more than worth playing for. A crystalline timbre he himself could never produce, laid over a soft, elegant gayageum line. A match made in heaven, truly.

This is what playing the gayageum is supposed to feel like.

He was beginning to understand why instrumental majors formed bands. Savoring the satisfaction to the fullest, Kim Se-jun brought his mouth to the microphone. Now it was his turn.

A husky voice struck the microphone and rang out — a voice like a cry of anguish. Matching it, Kang Yu-na turned her head and looked at him with a distant, aching expression, as if she were looking at her real father. Kim Se-jun rose from his seat and walked slowly toward center stage.

A song they sang facing each other. The expressions they wore as they traded verses went beyond tender — they were heartrending.

Among the singers watching from the wings, a common phenomenon began to take hold. Among the women.

"Hey! Don't cry! Your makeup's going to run... sniff..."

The words of a woman who looked like a girl-group leader. The others were still sniffling.

"Shit... now I'm thinking about my dad..."

"Ah... why would they sing a song like that and cause a scene..."

The corners of their eyes grew damp — girls who had thrown themselves into the industry so young. They tipped their heads back, doing everything they could not to let the tears fall, and the other women were doing the same. Regardless of age, they scrunched their noses and fought the crying however they could.

"Ah, seriously... they could've at least been bad at singing... their emotional delivery is way too good... hic..."

Whether it was praise or a complaint was impossible to tell. The waiting room was becoming a sea of tears.

Kim Se-jun and Kang Yu-na's stage. The moment it aired, it unleashed an enormous ripple. It seized the real-time search rankings in an instant, and the internet flooded with talk of them.

"The response is solid."

Looking at the comments, Kim Se-jun hummed through his nose. The atmosphere was more than satisfying. But once the internet caught that kind of momentum, it did not settle easily. Instead, a still larger wave began to roll in.

Fathers in their forties and fifties who had never paid popular music much mind. Rummaging around online, they began to notice that Simcheongga existed.

A song that won their deep empathy. The digital charts, which had been lying still, began to tremble — gathering a frightening momentum.