Strawberry Delight Yogurt Blended
“Ha…”
Seoeun let out a deep sigh as she set her phone down. She had told them it would be good to roughly settle on a lyric theme by the weekend and find some direction, but the stories Suhyun and Juyeon brought back were nothing but dark, gloomy tales from kids overflowing with complaints about society.
She checked the lyrics they had written one more time.
There is no future!
The world is absurd!
It really seemed like the odds of Hana clutching the back of her neck and collapsing were extremely high if she ever attached lyrics like these to one of her songs. This was how exhausting it was to be president. Now she had to figure out how to phrase it nicely and wrap it up in prettier packaging.
Are you crazy?Have you lost your mind?Don’t you want to do it? Conveying her intentions without using harsh words like those was surprisingly difficult. And the targets were Suhyun and Juyeon—both of them fragile kids whose mentality would shatter like glass at a single remark. If she came on too strong, they would probably burst into tears and run out crying that they couldn’t do it anymore.
In truth, there would have been no problem if Seoeun simply wrote the lyrics herself. She was a second-year in the Korean Education department who had chosen her major purely because she loved books. Her writing ability was naturally far superior to theirs, and producing ordinary lyrics that weren’t even poetry posed no challenge at all.
But for Seoeun, Spirit activities were never about who performed better. Her wish was for everyone to enjoy themselves and decorate one beautiful page of their lives at the prettiest age they would ever have. Still, she was only a college student herself—just one year older than them. She needed somewhere to vent these frustrations.
In the end, she called her boyfriend. As expected from the twenty-first generation, no one was more reliable than Jaejun, the president from two generations ago.
Jaejun had been a very different kind of president from Seoeun. His instrumental skill was considered the best among all the guitarists in Spirit history. He possessed clear leadership qualities—the ability to captivate people—and the monstrous talent to back it up. The reason Seoeun had fallen for him was precisely because she admired that side of him.
“Hello?”
“Ah. Oppa. Are you busy right now?”
“No? Why?”
“Well, you see…”
Seoeun poured out her complaints about the original composition they were working on today. Jaejun listened but offered no solution.
“So just write it yourself.”
“No way. It only means something if we all write it together.”
“In our generation I handled everything from composition to lyrics by myself.”
“Must be nice. Really.”
It was a pointless war of nerves. And Jaejun knew all too well that he could never win against Seoeun in the end.
“Then how about this.”
After a short pause, Jaejun spoke again.
“Take what the kids brought and tweak it a little.”
“Or if that doesn’t work, at least get them to write hopeful lyrics for the chorus.”
“Finding a compromise point should be fine, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Ugh. If they had been in our generation, they would’ve been kicked out already.”
Jaejun sounded thoroughly fed up.
“They probably would have been gone already, huh?”
Seoeun smiled brightly, not denying it.
“Still, I like our kids. They’re all incredibly pure and kind.”
“Well… I’m not going to criticize you for that, but what happened with that thing about Yoon Hana seeming to like Lee Suhyun?”
It sounded exactly like a grandfather asking about his grandchildren’s love lives.
“Why? Oppa, do you like Hana?”
When she asked with a playful lilt, a rather severe jeer came back.
“If that arrogant girl comes crying and begging me to please date her, I might consider it?”
“Ooh… so there is some room for thought, then?”
“Ah, stop it already, Seoeun. So what happened?”
Seoeun let out a small chuckle and trailed off.
“Well… from what I can see, it’s about… ninety-eight percent…?”
Of course, the president thought they would need to watch a little longer before deciding on the probability of those two actually becoming a couple.
Thump. Thump. Seoeun’s fist delivered one light bonk each to the heads of Juyeon and Suhyun, who were sitting on the sofa. Of course she didn’t hit hard—just enough force to be annoying but not painful.
“Kids.”
“Yes.”
The polite response slipped out of Suhyun’s mouth automatically. It was a habit that appeared whenever Seoeun lowered her voice.
“I can’t quite remember if I said this before or not.”
“This song is going to be the final encore at the festival.”
“So obviously it needs to be powerful and exciting, doesn’t it?”
Faced with such perfectly logical statements, the two loners had no excuses left.
“But does it make sense to write things like ‘there is no future’ or ‘a life like a water flea’ in there?”
“S-sorry.”
“…Sorry.”
Seeing them apologize so earnestly, Seoeun swept her hair back from her face.
“Let’s just revise it a little.”
“No… we’ll start over from the beginning.”
Juyeon hung her head in despair, lamenting her own failure.
“No, no. Let’s change the chorus a lot and leave the rest as it is.”
“How?”
Suhyun, who had reread their prepared lyrics, asked her.
“Hmm… Even though it’s this hard and confusing right now, someday spring will come? Something like that—approach it from that angle.”
“Spring will come…”
Juyeon repeated the words, rolling them on her tongue. Something seemed to click; she picked up her pen and began jotting phrases in her notebook.
Spring That Hasn’t Come Yet
On the Blurry Days
Seoeun, watching, gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“That’s it! Yes! You can do it!”
The Department of Korean Language Education combined “Korean” and “Education.” Seoeun began encouraging them with the same mindset she would have used during her student-teaching practicum.
“With this kind of development, it would also be good to add that the day flowers bloom will eventually arrive.”
When Suhyun murmured the line beside her, Juyeon immediately wrote it down.
Flowers Bloom☆
“Why the star?”
“…Because I like it?”
The three of them huddled together revising the lyrics, and before they knew it the clock already read seven. It was time for regular practice.
—Creeeeak.
The moment the door opened, Hana walked in.
“What are you all doing?”
“Oh? Hana, hi~”
Seoeun rose from her chair to greet her.
“Suhyun and Juyeon already made me run errands, and now even you’re in on it, unnie?”
“Hey~ No way~”
Since the lyrics were more or less finished, Seoeun made no effort to hide the scene.
“We were working on the lyrics!”
“Oh. I’m looking forward to it.”
At the word “looking forward,” both Suhyun’s and Juyeon’s shoulders shrank. They had just been thoroughly scolded by Seoeun, so they were nervous about Hana’s evaluation too.
“Let me see.”
When Hana held out her hand for the notebook, its owner Juyeon glanced at Suhyun. He gave a small nod. He trusted that since Seoeun had already checked it, it would be fine.
Hana, however, felt her irritation index creeping upward even before she looked at the page.
“Hey. Are you two married or something?”
“Huh?”
“Why do you act like you need your husband’s permission before doing anything?”
“It’s… collaborative production.”
Juyeon hesitated again and looked at Suhyun. Once more he nodded.
Ah. This is annoying.
Hana took the notebook, set her irritation aside for the moment, and read through the lyrics the two had written.
Even if I dream
The distance doesn’t narrow
I imagined the unreachable other side
The spring that hasn’t come yet
On those blurry days
In the night that sleeps faintly once more
It wasn’t the feeling she had expected, but she didn’t dislike it. It was exactly like them. The slightly lyrical touch made it obvious that Seoeun had helped.
“How is it?”
Seoeun asked with a proud expression.
“Not bad.”
Hana handed the notebook back and leaned against the amp.
“Finish it. I think it’ll turn out fine.”
Smiles bloomed on the faces of the two who had been scared for nothing. Jealousy prickled at her, but Hana had no desire to ruin the warm scene. She reached for her guitar out of habit, then set it down again.
“Ah. Right. There’s no ensemble today.”
“Huh? Did you forget and just come anyway?”
“Yeah.”
No matter how mercilessly Spirit demanded four practices a week, they still had exams to take. Preparing and rehearsing a new song during exam period was simply too much of a burden. That was why Seoeun had made it a rule that they would suspend all activities for one week during exams. Instead, she had suggested that anyone who wanted to study together in the club room could gather during the usual ensemble time.
“Ah. Wait. Then I should go buy coffee first. Anyone coming with me?”
When no one answered, Hana felt awkward and spun on her heel.
“Ugh. Then I’m going.”
The moment her hand touched the doorknob—
“I-I’ll come too.”
Suhyun, who had hurriedly grabbed his wallet, stuck close behind her.
“Hey. If you don’t need anything to drink, you don’t have to come.”
“No, it’s fine. If I’m going to study for a long time, having something to drink would be nice.”
“Then just follow.”
It was already late; the cafés on campus were closed. With no other choice, Hana headed toward the café where she had first taken him. Complaining about how much she hated exam period, the two of them walked down the hill until the café appeared right in front of them.
“What do you want to drink?”
Hana, standing in front of the menu board, turned to look at him.
“Strawberry Delight Yogurt Blended.”
A somewhat unexpected choice slipped from Suhyun’s lips.
“You like that too?”
“I don’t know—I’ve never tried it.”
“Then why order it?”
Suhyun turned his body slightly toward her.
“Because it seems like you like it.”
Hana’s eyes trembled.
What is that supposed to mean? Why are you drinking something I like?
Of course, Suhyun had simply said it because he was curious what that fancy-looking drink actually tasted like.