Seol Yahan (1)
This was the second floor of N Studio in Gangnam. A recording booth where the visual-novel adaptation of the novel My Girlfriend Wants to Be Trained was underway.
Unlike most visual novels, this one was doing something rare: full voice acting for the male lead as well. After a seven-hour marathon, the first guide-recording session for My Girlfriend Wants to Be Trained—or GF Training for short—had finally wrapped.
The visual-novel project was being heavily backed by the publisher, so the budget was generous and the crew accordingly large—nearly fifteen people counting the voice actors. That many people, stuck in a session that had run far longer than planned, were thoroughly wiped out.
“Whew—great work, everyone!”
My line, as the guy playing the male lead, kicked it off, and a wave of tired, satisfied thank-yous rolled through the studio.
“Ugh… haah. Great work, Director!”
“Yeah, you too, Heeju. You too, Hoyeong. Directing team as well—thanks for hanging in.”
The man in overall charge, a guy in his late thirties the staff casually called Director, turned toward me.
“Oh, by the way. This was your first full-length recording, right, Hoyeong?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Man, you’ve got talent. Real talent. Your delivery barely frayed even after hours of talking—you could pass for a pro already. Ever think about quitting whatever else you’re doing and going all-in on voice work?”
“Ah, I really appreciate that. But I’m still in college, so I figure I should at least graduate before I decide anything.”
“Wait—you’re still a student? Wow. I just assumed you’d already graduated. Guess I got fooled by the looks. Sorry about that.”
“Ah—thank you…”
People had been calling me mature-looking since I was a kid, but hearing that a freshly twenty-one-year-old me could pass for a college graduate still hit me like a slap. Maybe I should start a skincare routine. I was turning those thoughts over as I shook the hand he offered; the director looked at me and grinned.
“Anyway, we were thinking of cleaning up the studio and grabbing a team dinner. You and Heeju are coming, right?”
“I’ve got something after this, so I don’t think I can.”
“Really? Shame to lose one of the leads. What about you, Hoyeong?”
The director smacked his lips and glanced my way.
“Mmm… with my throat, I really shouldn’t drink much…”
Still, turning down free drinks sitting right in front of me felt a little wasteful. What to do.
“Come on, if you’ve got the time, at least drop by for a bit. The original author is coming too. If both of our leads bail, we’re going to look pretty bad in front of the writer.”
“Wait, seriously? The original author is coming?”
“Yeah. At the pre-meeting they said they live near the studio, so we agreed to grab dinner after the guide recording. How about it, Hoyeong?”
I had been hesitating—then the director’s words made my eyes go round.
Of course they did. “Original author” meant Seol Yahan, the writer of GF Training. And Seol Yahan’s work wasn’t just something I liked; it was basically the novel of my life.
Three books, different settings, same delicious through-line: a girl who looks pure and pretty on the surface but secretly craves rough training meets the protagonist and works her way through every kind of play imaginable. Gentlemanly content, if you squinted. The kind of plot that stuffs a man’s every fantasy into one package—and on top of that, the calm, almost clinical prose with that faint glint of madness underneath had me hooked so hard I’d even sent anonymous tips more than once. And that Seol Yahan was coming to the after-party…?
I’d loved those novels so much that when they asked me to voice the lead for the visual-novel adaptation of GF Training, I said yes without a second of thought.
“Then I’m going. No matter what happens, I’m going. Even if I break a leg, I’m going.”
Obviously. Absolutely. I clasped both hands together, eyes shining, and the director laughed, easy and amused.
“Figured you’d say that. I’ll let the author know you’re coming too. That’s okay, right?”
“Yes, of course. Ah—could you message them right now if possible? They might be busy writing and not check until later.”
“Heh. All right, all right. Hang on a second—I’ll message them now.”
The director said his goodbyes to the staff and headed out of the studio. I stayed behind, pressing a hand to my racing heart, and smiled.
“…Wow.”
The day I would see Seol Yahan—the author of GF Training—with my own two eyes had actually arrived. This couldn’t be a dream, right?
I pinched my cheek hard. It stung. Definitely not a dream. My mouth curved up so hard I couldn’t stop it.
What kind of person is the author going to be?
Someone who knew exactly which buttons men lost their minds over, and put them on the page raw—so in real life, they had to be a pretty refined, gentlemanly type. If I could manage it, I wanted to sit at the same table, share a drink, and dig into a long talk about the newest work.
“Ah, right.”
An autograph. I needed to be ready for an autograph.
Writers lived mostly indoors; this might be the first and last chance I ever got. I was not letting today slip past without a signature.
I moved fast, rummaging through the studio desk drawers. Paper, a marker pen, and—just in case—sticky notes, all carefully gathered up.
Two copies, at least. Mutters only to myself, I folded them neatly into my coat pocket—and a shadow fell across my back.
“…Um, Hoyeong?”
The person who’d come up behind me was none other than Heeju. Jang Heeju, the voice actress playing the heroine of the second route in GF Training.
“Yes?”
“So… Hoyeong. Do you… actually like novels like My Girlfriend Wants to Be Trained?”
“Oh! Yes! I love it. It’s my novel of a lifetime. It’s fun, and the story’s great, right?”
“Mm… I see. The story… mm, you thought the story was good… I’ve read it too, actually, but I…”
“Wait, really? You read GF Training too, Heeju? Wow, that’s not exactly easy material for women. So? How was it? Super fun, right?”
“Huh? Uh, mm…”
“Which part did you like best? For me it was when the lead and the heroine both realize their own leanings. That soft, first-love feeling of two people who’ve been dating casually watching porn together and going, ‘Want to try that once?’—that was great—and then the soft SM play that kicks off after, the way it’s written… I’ve reread those scenes so many times. Ah, and also—”
—Hoyeong! The author’s on the way! We should head out too!
“Ah—yes!”
Right as I was about to launch into a full sermon on everything wonderful about GF Training, the director’s voice carried in from outside the studio. I swallowed my disappointment and looked at Heeju.
“Sorry, Heeju. I’ve got to go to the dinner now. Can we pick this up later?”
“Ah… yeah…”
We got to the dinner place in no time.
The celebration for finishing the guide recording was a noisy barbecue joint. The director and staff—just under ten of them—piled around a big group table, while I strong-armed the director into seating me at a four-top so I could face Seol Yahan head-on. Not a two-top; I didn’t want the author to feel cornered.
…Ah. I’m so excited.
Any minute now I would be in the presence of the Seol Yahan I liked—no, loved. Just thinking it pulled a little tune out of me.
I hummed the main theme the sound director had scored for the GF Training visual novel while I set the table. My own utensils I dropped down any which way. The spoon, chopsticks, and wet towel for our Seol Yahan, though—those I lined up with military precision, edges perfect.
“Hoyeong, are you seriously going to sit at a four-top by yourself? The author’s running about ten minutes late. Why don’t you just come over here and drink with us?”
“Sorry. It’ll only be a minute, really. I’ll talk to the author a little and come join you right after.”
“Heh. You’re weirder than you look, you know that…?”
The director’s muttered disbelief set the whole staff laughing. I laughed along, awkward, and the director poured beer into his glass, looked around the table, and called out.
“All right, all right—let’s make this one do just as well as the last. Got it? Cheers!”
His lead drew a roar from the staff. I shouted something halfway appropriate to match the mood, set my glass down at once, and turned my eyes toward the restaurant’s front door.
Any second now, right?
When would my author arrive. I craned my neck and waited, and waited—then ding. My phone chimed with a notification.
“Who’s that?”
Eyes still on the door, I tapped without thinking. The screen flared bright.
No—not bright. A feast of bare skin. A woman’s chest, raw and unfiltered, the kind of shot I’d seen too many times to forget.
“…Ugh, damn it.”
That pest again. Just like she claimed, she must have been about to go out—there was even a glittering necklace draped so it cut straight between her breasts.
Honestly. Even a dedicated pervert like this still somehow functioned in society. Whoever got tangled up with her had to be some kind of saint.
I shook my head in reluctant awe, covered the screen so no one would see, and swung my gaze back to the front door.
Ting-a-ling.
As if on cue, the door opened. With the jingle of the bell, a mysterious young woman clicked toward us on the hard soles of her shoes.
Looks put her early twenties—mid-twenties at a stretch.
And yet something about her felt familiar.
“….”
Huh.
That necklace. I’ve seen that before.
It was oddly familiar, so I turned it over in my head for a second—and on her side, she seemed to recognize me too, because she stopped dead.
“Oh? Are you by any chance Senior Baek Hoyeong? Computer Science, Class of ’22?”
The mysterious woman with the familiar necklace looked at me like she hadn’t expected this at all.
“Huh? Yeah, that’s me. But you—that necklace…”
I was about to ask where she’d gotten it when—
“Hey—there’s the author! Author! Seol Yahan! Over here!”
“…Huh?”