Why Didn't You Say to Unlink Arms?
There's a saying: "The girl who's a 7 beats the girl who's a 10." If we assume a 10 is the most beautiful person in the world, it means a 7-point girl is actually more popular. Digging deeper, it means that while approaching a perfect 10 feels impossible, a solid 7 makes guys think, "Maybe I could pull that off?"
Choi Saeron had felt this theory in her bones growing up as friends with Kwon Dain and Yoon Seola. Kwon Dain was at the top of modern society's caste system—complete with the stunning looks inherited from her parents. She was definitely a 10, and no one had ever mustered the courage to hit on her. It was truly baffling. If Saeron were a guy, she'd have tried anyway, even if it meant getting shot down.
What about Yoon Seola, then? "Seola next to Dain... it depends on taste, I guess." With her tall height for a girl and the figure to match, Yoon Seola was another 10 on par with Dain. Maybe that's why she'd never been approached once in her life either.
Watching those two, Saeron figured the theory applied to guys too. Wouldn't a 7-point guy be more popular than a 10? That's what she'd always believed. Or so she thought...
"Sorry, but I'm a minor, so..."
"A minor...? Got it."
"Yep."
"But I think dating a minor is fine."
"...Huh?"
"We could start as friends and date once you're an adult, right?"
'She's totally nuts.'
Handsome guys didn't deal with this crap. And Jeong Jisul wasn't just a 10—he was off the charts.
'Honestly, looks-wise, he's more like a 100.'
Without exaggeration, every five minutes, some girl stuck to Jisul. 'Is this for real?'
Saeron was shocked and annoyed by the situation. Jisul getting hit on didn't affect her directly, and the frequency was surprising, sure. But she hated how it was making them late for their meetup spot.
'300 meters taking 20 minutes? Come on.'
Jisul was just as frustrated. After politely brushing off yet another clingy girl, he let out a small sigh.
"Can't even run with all these people..."
Seeing that, Saeron—who judged it was a quick walk anyway and regretted not taking transit earlier—started racking her brain. How to stop people from swarming him? They still had 400 meters to the karaoke bar.
'There's one easy, fast way...'
"Hey, don't get the wrong idea."
Hitting on someone or asking for their Insta only works if they're single. Sure, crazies hit on taken people, but in real life—not just online—that was rare.
To free Jisul from the onslaught, she had to act like his girlfriend.
It wasn't because she wanted to. Saeron had zero romantic interest in him.
"Give me your arm."
Stopping in the street, Saeron looked straight up at Jisul. He cautiously offered his left arm, and she pressed close, linking arms naturally. Friends did it all the time, so it was familiar.
'...Feels firmer than with the girls, though.'
The texture was a bit different, of course.
"You must be exhausted."
To shake off the weird vibe, Saeron spoke up quickly.
"Today's especially bad. Normally it's not this intense."
"Getting asked for your number every five minutes... that's gotta be a personal record. Maybe even world-class."
A sudden thought hit her.
"Doesn't happen at the cafe? I heard people get hit on a lot at part-time gigs."
"Not really at the cafe. The customers are mostly older, like 30s and 40s."
"...Right, it's a fancy place."
"Yeah."
Muttering to herself, Saeron switched topics to Okiid. Until they reached the coin karaoke—their first meetup spot—she rambled nonstop about the band.
"Whoa, seriously... no way!"
Saeron was blown away. No one ever vibed with her sound geek-outs like this.
"You know that detail? How they ditched reverb and delay for a raw fuzz pedal sound to switch up the vibe—that level?!"
She clicked with Jisul like no one else. Even Yoon Seola, who loved singing, wasn't this synced.
What's his deal?
Flustered by her excitement, Jisul replied sheepishly.
"...I'm a composer."
"Oh."
Right, he made music. She hadn't heard his stuff, but anyone who caught those details had to be legit.
"We're here."
Chatting animatedly, they'd arrived at the karaoke before she knew it. Saeron dashed to her usual booth with practiced ease.
"Sis, I'm here. Brought him too."
Kwon Dain, already waiting inside, flinched at the sight.
"What? Something wrong?"
"Saeron."
"Yeah?"
"Since when are you two that close?"
Only then did Saeron realize she was still arm-in-arm with Jisul.
'Crap.'
Too hyped, she'd forgotten all about it. She yanked her arm free and strode ahead to create distance.
'Why didn't he say anything about unlinking...'
We'd sung everything we wanted. We got there around 6:30, and now it was 8.
'An hour and a half straight of karaoke.'
Maybe because none of us—Seola included—sucked at singing. We belted out every song on our lists, killing time.
Now out front, waters in hand.
"Alright, Jisul. I'll look out for you from now on, kid."
Saeron eyed me approvingly.
"You nailed those Okiid songs."
Why'd she talk like that? Anyway...
"What do I get if you do?"
Gotta take the offer.
"We're starting a band club. Seola should vocal, I'll bass the roots... wanna do keys? Composers play piano good, right?"
No option to say no? She'd been narrowing choices like this...
This wasn't a one-two date vibe. Saeron was a pro.
"Keys work... or whatever's left."
Truth was, I'd planned to start a band club anyway. Her pitch was music to my ears.
"...Whatever's left? Drums or guitar too?"
"All of it."
Why assume otherwise? Sure, some composers skip drums or bass.
Maybe that's why she was surprised—she knew her stuff.
'She's more pro than I thought.'
"No way, that's perfect? A jack-of-all-trades utility player?"
Grinning, Yoon Seola nodded too. She was dead serious about band club.
But right now, food trumped music.
"Let's eat. I'm starving."
We split. The three headed for mala tang the opposite way; I went home.
Fun despite my reluctance—but after work from morning to 6, no energy for dinner out.
Back home, Kwon Dain sat on her bed, lost in thought. What was this feeling toward Jeong Jisul?
Dark, unpleasant. A week since she'd noticed it, but she still couldn't grasp it.
Seong Haein's call voice drifted from outside. Topic: Jisul. Sounded like he'd gotten an HS contract offer.
"......"
Dain's face soured listening. The gross feeling surged again—stronger, stickier, like a swamp eating her alive.
"...Annoying."
She turned to AI for help. Maybe it'd name the emotion.
She typed her feelings in detail. The AI's reply:
Inferiority complex.
Inferiority complex.
Of course. She'd never felt it before, so no wonder she couldn't name the rot inside her.
But naming it sparked deeper doubt. Inferiority usually came from envy. Did her subconscious envy Jisul?
"To figure out why..."
Get closer? Learn more, pinpoint what she envied.
"...Hate that most."
Approaching with an agenda. Her least favorite thing—but her only option now.
"Jisul'll enter entertainment eventually, right...?"
Using him now, but guilt could be repaid later in the industry.
Rationalized, Dain vowed to get closer to Jisul.
Monday morning.
"Whoa, you're early?"
"Planning to be from now on."
Beating even Yoon Seola to school.
'Seola said Jisul comes early too...'
From tomorrow, daily morning chats. Perfect.