You're the Only One I Can Ask
I was the one who emceed the wedding of Cha Yuna.
The groom, Yoon Dogyeong — my closest friend.
The bride, Cha Yuna — my closest…… friend.
It had been that way for fourteen years, and I was the one who had brought the two of them together.
Twenty minutes before the ceremony.
"Woojin, wait a second."
The door to the bridal suite opened halfway and Yuna poked her face out.
Inside, she was standing in front of a full-length mirror. The ends of her dark brown hair, which reached just below her jaw, were curled more neatly than usual. Her slightly drooping eyes were the same as ever, but with makeup on, her face looked prettier than normal.
The train of her dress trailed long across the floor toward the sofa. With both assistants out of the room, Yuna was lifting the bouquet in front of the mirror, then lowering it again.
"The zipper won't go up. I think it's caught on something in the back."
"Me?"
"Yeah. I can't reach it."
I walked around behind her.
"Put your arms down."
Her back was half bare, the line of it showing plainly between the two panels of white fabric. When my fingertips brushed her skin, her shoulders flinched.
Still, she didn't turn around. Using my nail, I pushed the lining away from the zipper teeth and drew it up slowly.
Ziiip.
"Done."
"Thanks. It would've been awkward to ask anyone else."
Yuna smiled at me through the mirror, and I stood behind her reflection.
"I'm a man too, you know. Don't ask me to do weird stuff."
"But I don't feel embarrassed around you."
"……"
"Isn't that strange? Except to me, you don't really feel like a man. You're just… you."
Yuna is not a person capable of saying cruel things.
She had always been kind to me, too. She had simply never once seen me as a man.
Picking up her bouquet, Yuna spoke.
"Thank you so much for emceeing. There's no one I could've asked but you."
"Sure."
I'd heard that line before, more than once, and each time I'd given the same answer.
I was almost at the door when Yuna called after me.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"When we get back from the honeymoon, you should finally start dating someone. I'll set you up."
She said it with a smile.
"Yeah."
"The groom and bride will now make their entrance."
From the podium, the whole hall of guests was laid out before me at a glance.
In the third row sat Im Haram — a college classmate of mine. She had been in love with Dogyeong for four years, written him no fewer than eight confession letters, and I was the one who had proofread every single one of them. The letters were never delivered in the end.
In the fifth row was Oh Sera, my senior. She and Dogyeong had had some ambiguous something-or-other for about six months. When Dogyeong asked me whether she seemed to like him, I was the one who said no.
That winter, Sera went abroad to study. To this day, I'm the only person who knows what that answer cost.
"The bride is entering."
The doors opened and Yuna walked in.
She looked at Dogyeong and smiled.
The first time I'd seen that smile was the spring of our first year of high school. I was standing in the cafeteria with nowhere to sit, and she pulled her tray over to make room for me — smiling exactly like that.
After that, wherever that girl was smiling, I generally followed.
And somehow, that was how I ended up here.
The ceremony ran smoothly. From the congratulatory songs to the parents' remarks, we never drifted more than ten seconds off the schedule. Naturally — I was the one who'd written the cue sheet.
After the ceremony, I matched the gift envelopes against the guest list, tracked down two whose amounts didn't line up, sorted everything out, and then headed to the reception.
By the time the reception was over, it was eleven at night.
Dogyeong followed me out to the parking lot and came to stand beside me, loosening his tie.
"Woojin."
"Yeah."
"Thank you. Really."
"Don't mention it."
"If it weren't for you, Yuna and I never would've happened."
That much was true. I knew it better than anyone.
Dogyeong gave my shoulder a couple of pats.
"When I'm back from the honeymoon, dinner's on me."
He got into the car, and the rear window rolled down. Yuna waved.
"Woojin! Thank you so much for today!"
The window went up.
The car pulled away, its red taillights shrinking into the distance.
What was left in the parking lot were six flower wreaths to be returned.
I walked to the subway station. There was cake frosting smeared on my dress shirt cuff — no memory of when it got there.
Looking back, my whole life had been made of things like that.
Confession counseling. Date course recommendations. Gift recommendations. Setting the mood. Mediating fights. Taking the scolding in someone's place. Taking the hit in someone's place.
And, in someone's place, giving things up.
Dogyeong thought of me as a friend. Yuna treasured me. Haram called me first, whenever anything happened.
People asked with an apology in their voices, and I always said yes.
It was true that I was their friend.
But before that — I was their comfortable person.
Going down the stairs, my foot slipped. The hand reaching for the railing closed on nothing.
As I fell, the whole day played back in a single flash. The zipper in the bridal suite. The podium. The gift envelope list. Six flower wreaths left in a parking lot.
The ground was farther away than I'd thought.
Thud.
The short sound ended, and my vision cut to black.
Why. All those years — why.
Bzzzt.
The sound of something vibrating by my head opened my eyes.
The ceiling was low. There were stains on the wallpaper and dust gathered in the window frame — stains that had vanished years ago when the place was repapered.
I picked up the phone lying next to my pillow. An old model, the one I'd replaced long ago. The screen didn't have a single scratch.
I read the date on the display over and over.
Eleven years ago.
A caller ID blinked on the screen.
Yoon Dogyeong.
The protagonist.
Yesterday, right in that moment, I knew exactly who that word referred to. What I don't understand is why it's surfacing now.
Ignoring the call, I sat up in bed. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my wrists.
Three missed calls. Two messages.
Back then, I'd read these messages, smiled, and replied — Yeah, I knew.
That was the day Dogyeong said, for the first time, that he could see Yuna as a woman.
The campus was bigger than I remembered. Dogyeong waved at me from a bench in front of the lecture hall. At twenty, his face still carried a bit of baby fat, and his hair was shorter than I'd last seen it.
It was the same face that had been smiling beside Yuna as a groom just last night.
"Why didn't you pick up?"
"I was asleep."
"Sit down. It's urgent."
The moment I sat, Dogyeong thrust his phone at me. On the screen, the department group chat was open.
"Cha Yuna. You saw she's in our department, right?"
"…I saw."
"I think I like her."
Not a single word had changed.
I don't know why the memory is this vivid.
"I was totally fine all three years of high school."
"But at orientation, when she laughed, something suddenly felt… off."
"I think I'm losing my mind."
He wasn't losing his mind. He was going to marry her.
"But if I bring it up wrong and it gets awkward, that's it for all three of us, you know? Three years, and nothing ever happened."
This was where it all began, back then.
I sounded out Yuna's feelings on his behalf, layered on reassurances that Dogyeong was a good guy, and manufactured opportunities for the two of them to be alone together.
"Can't you feel her out for me? What she thinks of me?"
"……"
"Subtly. You're good at that kind of thing."
Good enough to emcee their wedding, apparently.
The answer sure, no problem was already rising to my lips. Swallowing it took more effort than I expected.
"Dogyeong."
"Yeah."
"Ask her yourself."
Dogyeong blinked. This was the part where I was supposed to grin like I'd lost and say fine.
I didn't grin.
"Wait, seriously? What, why—"
"Dogyeong."
"What."
"You said you like her."
Dogyeong went quiet.
"Then ask her yourself."
"What?"
"If it gets awkward, it gets awkward between the two of you. Leave me out of it."
A voice came flying over from the steps of the lecture hall.
Cha Yuna was walking toward us, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.
At twenty, Yuna's hair was short, and in the hand that would one day hold a bouquet, she was carrying a convenience store coffee.
My heart slammed hard in my chest.
I steadied my breathing and lowered my gaze.
I'd already seen how this road ends.
"What are you two doing here? Don't you have first period?"
Dogyeong shot to his feet. Even from where I sat, I could see his ears had gone red.
Yuna looked at me with a smile.
"Jung Woojin, it's been forever. Why weren't you at orientation?"
"Had a shift."
"Oh, right."
Yuna glanced once at Dogyeong, then leaned in toward me.
"Hey, just one favor."
She lowered her voice — though it was still loud enough for Dogyeong to hear.
"……"
"I'm trying to join the student council this term. Could you look over my application essay? You're good with words."
It was exactly the same back then. I spent three nights on it, and Yuna got into the student council. That became the doorway through which she and Dogyeong grew close.
Yuna pressed her palms together and held them up.
"Sorry."
"There's no one I can ask but you."
There was a time I'd loved hearing that. I only ever heard the part about there being no one else.
Yuna had merely asked me to read her essay.
It was I who had spent three nights on it.
"Jung Woojin?"
Yuna tilted her head. Dogyeong had been waiting for an answer this whole time.
Both of them were waiting for my answer.
"This time, ask someone else."
A breeze passed through.
Yuna's hands were still pressed together, the smile still clinging to her mouth — but her eyes had grown just a little wider.
"Uh… what did you say?"
"Find someone else."
"Hey, Jung Woojin."
Dogyeong cut in with a laugh.
"What's with you today? Did you eat something bad?"
"No."
"Then what's your problem?"
Why, indeed.
That question was a first. When I'd done things for them, they'd never once asked for a reason.
"Just because."
They both looked at me at the same time.
"This time, you two do it yourselves."
I hoisted my bag strap onto my shoulder and started walking.
"Gonna be late for first period."
"Hey. Jung Woojin."
This time, it wasn't a laughing voice.
My steps faltered for a moment. Still, I didn't look back.
I'd barely set my bag down by the window seat of the first-period lecture hall when my phone buzzed three times.
It was Dogyeong. I'd never heard those words from him before.
He'd never had a reason to — I'd never acted this way.
A little later, messages arrived from Yuna too.
Yuna hadn't said anything wrong.
After sending it, I typed one more line.
I flipped the phone face-down and sat down at the desk.
Spreading out my course schedule, I went through it from first period onward.
As I remember it, my GPA this semester ended up in the 2-point range. I burned my hours on Dogyeong's relationship counseling, missed two assignment deadlines, and skimmed my way to midterms so I could review Yuna's application essay.
That would not be happening. What I did with my free time was mine to decide now.
I had learned plenty over the years about reading other people's hearts. What to say, when to step back. I poured all of it into connecting other people.
This time, I'd spend it on myself.
Students filed in through the back door of the lecture hall. Yuna was among them. The seat beside me was empty, but she sat down near the front.
Some part of me expected her to glance back at least once. When she didn't, it bothered me less than I'd thought it would.
In my last life, I'd sat in that seat beside her. A month from now, that seat would have become Dogyeong's.
This time, I have no intention of making their seats for them.
Whether they grow close or drift apart — that's for them to sort out on their own.
In this life, I will not be the protagonist's friend.