Date, Date (2)
"Looks good."
"Y-yeah. It does."
The food arrived quickly.
Had he sensed what was weighing on Jeong Ayeong's mind? Han Sein looked at the dishes with a soft smile and answered her just like that. The guilt on her face lasted only a moment.
"Let's eat."
"Okay!"
Reassured by his smile, Jeong Ayeong dug in at once. Han Sein picked up his utensils first, lifted a bite of salmon poke to his mouth, and chewed.
"Mmm. It's good."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Sesame dressing, right? It works really well."
Thank god. The sticky unease that had been gnawing at her dissolved, and the simple pleasure of a meal settled in its place. Sein's words hadn't been a lie. Rose pasta and salmon poke — a little light for two people, maybe, but far from bad. The only real problem was the price.
"Hehe. So good."
"Eat plenty."
"Mmh… ah."
"Hold still."
His hand reached toward Jeong Ayeong's mouth. He dabbed the corner of her lips with a tissue. Maybe she didn't eat pasta often, or maybe she was just the clumsy type — sauce kept finding its way onto her face. Her cheeks grew warmer by the second. The heat crept up to her ears until they glowed a soft red.
"Thanks."
"There. All clean."
Jeong Ayeong's gaze dropped in a flustered scatter, settling on the food as if she were studying it. Before the embarrassment could fully take hold, an old memory cut through her mind.
Every damn date it's buy me food, buy me coffee.
Get a grip, you dumbasses.
Something along those lines. She remembered it well enough. The freeloader theory had torn through Korea like a wildfire, and the gender wars on every community board had been running at a full boil. Jeong Ayeong — a chronic lurker herself — had agreed with all of it. Back then she was still in high school, a girl who had never so much as looked at a boy, and she had sworn an oath: she would never freeload off a boyfriend. Even if she had money, she would never mindlessly buy gifts or foot every bill on a date. That had been her resolve.
And the mindset that had taken root so firmly in her values was now —
"Ah."
"Ah…"
"That's it. Eat lots of meat."
"Mmh… mmm."
— shattering completely.
A spoon loaded with just the right amount of meat and pasta drifted toward her. When she opened her mouth, the gentle hand that fed her carried love in it. Care. Attention. Han Sein's eyes never left Jeong Ayeong, and he didn't look away until she had chewed properly.
"You don't have to feed me…"
"I want to."
Her face burned past blushing — it felt like it was on fire. A boyfriend this sweet, this attentive. You could throw money at a stranger on the street and he still might not feed you. And she was supposed to feel bad about spending money on a boy like this? Her entire value system was coming apart at the seams.
He fed her two bites, then took one for himself — a portion so small it barely filled a spoon.
"You eat more too."
"I know, I know."
He said he knew, then immediately piled more pasta and meat onto the spoon and held it out to her again. She had no choice but to accept it in silence. He had already put on a little show of his hand hurting, after all.
"I'm full."
"…Already?"
When she came back to herself, the plates were nearly empty. It felt like she had eaten almost everything. Jeong Ayeong looked at the satisfied Han Sein and asked again.
"Should we order more?"
"No, I'm full."
"I'll get it."
"It's fine. We're both students — how am I supposed to just freeload off you?"
Jeong Ayeong was full. Of course she was — she had eaten roughly two-thirds of everything by herself. Call it a woman's pride, or call it guilt. Either way, she needed to untangle the knot in her chest.
"I'll pay."
"I said it's fine."
"…Okay."
He rummaged through his wallet, picked up the check, and stood. She scrambled up after him, trying to beat him to the register —
"Here you go."
"Thank you very much."
"I'll send you a text. Just transfer me later."
"Okay…"
"If you send more than half, I'm getting mad."
"Ah — okay…"
How did he know? The guilt pressing down on Jeong Ayeong made her hold her breath. The more she met those soft eyes looking at her with such open affection, the more that guilt seemed to burn.
After the meal, Jeong Ayeong and Han Sein headed straight for a karaoke place — not a timed private room, just a casual coin karaoke booth. It was their first real date, and they had already shared a quiet meal together, so something light felt like the natural next step. It wasn't far. The neighborhood around Hweorang Academy had excellent infrastructure to begin with, so they walked in without any trouble.
"This one okay?"
"Yeah. Good."
Room sixteen. A narrow little space. There were larger rooms available, but with only two of them, this was fine. A plush bench that could maybe seat three, a screen mounted directly in front, and the karaoke machine itself — a classic coin karaoke setup.
"Uh… hang on, let me grab some cash."
"No. I've got it."
"It'll just take a second…"
"Come on. How many songs are we even gonna sing?"
Han Sein pulled cash from his wallet. The allowance his sister gave him always came in cash, so he either deposited it or just spent it as bills. Two thousand-won notes slid into the machine. Jeong Ayeong's head drooped. She kept feeling like she was messing up. But she forced her chin back up. Next date, she would treat him more. Spoil him more. She knew that sitting there sulking alone would only cost her more in the end.
"You go first. I'll look for a song."
"W-wait, huh?"
The remote landed in Jeong Ayeong's hands and her brain locked up. Her fingers, however, kept moving. She didn't know many songs to begin with, but she dug up childhood memories and started searching for ones she used to sing.
Meanwhile, Han Sein pulled out his phone to look up tracks, and his expression grew serious. He had listened to plenty of music in his previous life, and he could still remember belting songs out with friends — but almost everything in this world was brand new to him. The only familiar ones were the occasional gender-flipped covers of songs he already knew.
"M-my love… for you…"
"Pfft."
"Wh-what…"
A trembling voice floated out over the accompaniment. Trot? The match was somehow both perfect and completely absurd, and the laugh escaped before he could stop it.
"I-I used to sing this for my grandma…"
"Okay, okay. Sing. Keep going."
That part, at least, was the same. Hearing it in a female key only drove home that this really was a reversed world. Han Sein took the remote and tapped the popular chart. Titles scrolled down from number one. Among them, he spotted a song with the same title as one from his previous life — different singer. If the intro didn't feel right, he could always cancel. He pressed reserve gently. Jeong Ayeong's eyes found him for a moment, then drifted back to the screen.
A full-throated performance. The upbeat trot number wound down, and a quiet intro began to play — a song that could pierce a woman's heart, one that had been featured in an old childhood cartoon called Crayon Shin-chan.
Jeong Ayeong, who had been staring ahead, turned her head. The accompaniment soaked the room in feeling. Or maybe it was just that Han Sein looked a little different from usual. His eyes, serious and faintly wet, fixed on the screen. Jeong Ayeong simply held the person she loved in her gaze.
Parting seems so much easier than meeting, doesn't it…
A clear, pure voice reached out as if searching for someone. It wasn't forced — it trembled, almost fragile — and yet every note landed true. He simply, quietly, poured feeling into the sound and let it go.
Jeong Ayeong's emotions met his. In a way, she was the woman standing closest to the Han Sein of his previous life. Personality, body, mind — all different. But the feelings she carried were the same. And so she could only watch him with dazed eyes. Something in her rang. Her heart rang. The years of suffering rang. Most of it had been self-blame, but the fact that she had tormented herself — reason or no reason — did not change. Han Sein's song was stroking those old wounds. Don't hurt so much.
I must have loved you. I can't seem to forget.
You keep coming back to me. I can't bear it.
I have wounds like that too. So don't suffer so hard. That was what his song was saying. A melody that pulled tight at the chest.
Then, little by little, Han Sein's body began to tip. Closer. He leaned against Jeong Ayeong slowly, still facing forward, still singing.
And before I know it, my heart flutters again —
at a back that looks just like yours.
It wasn't only the emotion of the song that reached her. Warmth did too. Bodies pressed close. The weight of his head on her shoulder, the sound of his voice. Her heart was a mess. Had Han Sein had a girlfriend before? The force of his singing made her wonder. She had been sure she was his first love. But it felt like there was a past she didn't know. Something distant and aching.
Jeong Ayeong bit down hard on her lip. Jealousy? No baseless feeling rose up. Worry. Tenderness. Yes — that was closer. What she felt was maternal. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to make him happy. No matter who in the world came for him — she wanted to turn Han Sein into Jeong Sein. To stay with him for life, until death itself wrote their names together.