Because It's a Cliché
This couldn't go on. That was the conclusion Chae-won reached. But no matter what she tried, she couldn't stop herself from fading.
-What happens to you if you disappear from this world?
-No idea. Never disappeared before.
On the off chance it might work, the two of them holed up in the school auditorium — because of the band practice room inside it. Chae-won carried a guitar she couldn't play, and Jun settled himself behind the drums. He tapped out a few idle beats with his sticks, and then, without warning, played with practiced ease.
-Wait. You know how to play the drums?
-A little.
-You should've put that in your backstory ages ago. Perfect for a delinquent male lead.
-Already regretting that I didn't.
Chae-won flopped down onto the floor, guitar still slung over her shoulder.
-When I get back, I'm learning guitar for real. I always wanted to.
-Then why didn't you?
-Studying. I barely made friends either, because I was always studying. Felt like a waste of time.
They finished the conversation they'd never gotten to have in the music room. It felt like an ordinary day, and it felt like a last conversation before parting.
Peaceful in just the right measure. Intimate in just the right measure.
-If I'd known this was coming, I would've learned everything first — studying, all of it. Getting home late that night, and then a car—
Beeeeep—.
Mid-sentence, a ringing flooded Chae-won's ears. For a split second, her vision drowned in black.
BANG—! A deafening roar. What do I do! There's a student here—
Someone's scream seemed to blur and smear at the edges.
-What?
-…Nothing. It's nothing.
Focus swam hazily back into place. Jun, who had somehow appeared beside her, dropped to the floor with a thud. Twirling a drumstick in one hand, he spoke.
-Hey.
-What.
-I'm still glad you came, you know.
-…
-I was alone the whole time. But then you showed up, and it was… yeah.
-By the way, how did you know I wasn't a person of this world?
-Your skirt was way too realistic on the first day. And a few days later I found a black tag on the floor under your desk.
Hina never came to the band practice room. Their waiting was wasted. The prediction that she might show up to play music for the next arc had missed the mark entirely.
Jun and Chae-won left the auditorium.
And then they were stopped short by the sight that greeted them.
-…What is that.
-The cherry blossoms…
The bright cherry blossoms that had bloomed across the schoolyard were falling in an endless cascade of petals.
It was proof that time was moving forward. But neither of them could rejoice. However normally the hours flowed, the fact remained that Hina was gone — and without her, the two of them were running out of screen time. Their presence was dissolving, fading frame by frame.
-…Hey. Your body.
Jun's body was turning translucent. Chae-won seized his hand and ran, thoughtless of anything else. Their destination: the rooftop.
BANG—!!!
Chae-won wrestled the rooftop door open and, uncharacteristically, fumbled frantically in search of Hina, who might be hiding somewhere up there.
-She's here, isn't she? Come out!!
She waited for Hina to be there with a guitar slung over her back, just like last time — but Hina wasn't. She was nowhere on the roof.
Jun stood by the railing and calmly tried to soothe her.
-It's okay.
-How is this okay?!
-This might not be dying. It could just be going back to how things were.
-…And if it is dying?
-…
-Not going back — just gone. Dead, forever. Then what?
Chae-won's voice, always so flat and expressionless, was trembling.
The sun was setting. Slowly, BGM began to swell. It was music utterly wrong for the moment — bright and upbeat as always, the kind that made you look forward to tomorrow.
Head bowed, Chae-won slowly closed her fingers around the fabric of Jun's shirt.
-Don't go.
Her eyes had filled with tears before she even noticed. Her face was the face of someone forcing it all back — terrified that if she truly started crying, Jun might vanish for good.
-…Hm?
The shirt in her grip crumpled as she squeezed with all her strength. Jun gave no answer.
-Don't go…
Chae-won slowly lifted her head. The last light of dusk touched her right cheek.
In that instant, tears too heavy to hold back slid down, one after another.
Once they started, they wouldn't stop. Chae-won couldn't even blink — terrified that the moment she looked away, Jun would disappear.
-…
Jun slowly raised his hand and placed it on her head. Then he stroked her hair, a few gentle passes — the way you handle something precious. Carefully.
It wasn't to fill the heroine's screen time. It was for the goodbye that was coming.
-We'll meet again. You and me. I'm sure of it.
-…How can you be so sure about that?
Sunset light washed over Jun's face. He smiled as if it were nothing at all.
-Because that's the cliché.
The hand on her hair slid slowly down to her cheek. As his thumb brushed, ever so lightly, across her soaked face —
Chae-won blinked once.
-…!
And when she opened her eyes again, Jun was gone. As if he had never existed in the first place — a character no one had ever written. Chae-won wept where she stood, unable to make a sound.
-Chae-won…
Someone's voice reached her.
-Chae-won…
Beeeeep—.
A ringing in her ears.
"What the hell…"
Ae-ta-mi was crying, completely against her own will. Over a drama this ridiculous.
"Ugh, come on…"
It was the music's fault — sending off a farewell with a song that fit the scene about as well as a birthday cake fits a funeral.
On screen, Chae-won, awake in her hospital bed, was going through rehabilitation. Eyes still brimming with tears, Ae-ta-mi left a comment.
Then she turned her attention back to the drama.
Back in the real world, Chae-won finally understood why the genre had changed midway through her life. It was thanks to a choice made by the mother who had read comics to her every night as she drifted off to sleep.
Because Chae-won had wanted to learn guitar, her mother had bought her a comic about the frontman of a rock band.
Chae-won slowly opened the comic and looked at it.
A nonsensical high school life. Absurd cliché after absurd cliché. And across it all, tear stains were spreading, blotting the ink.
Jun had been a fictional character too, then. Just like Hina. Just like the countless other cast members.
And yet she missed him anyway. The camera slowly lost focus on Chae-won's weeping face, and sharpened on the school uniform hanging on the wall.
Before she knew it, the setting was a school again.
It wasn't Chae-won in a shoujo manga uniform — it was Chae-won in the uniform of an ordinary high school, gazing out the window. Her seat, as it happened, was at the far end of the first row by the door — the seat where Jun had sat. The white curtains billowed.
Thud— thud—.
Footsteps sounded from far down the hall. Feet in sneakers came into view. The camera angle climbed slowly upward — the back of someone in a sports jacket.
Screech—.
The front door slid open. Chae-won was still watching the curtains move.
-Now then, we have a transfer student joining our class. He was in a car accident and spent a year recovering, so he's a year older than the rest of you — keep that in mind. Your name?
Just then, a gust of wind blew the curtain hard across Chae-won's face, hiding it from view.
-I'm Heo Hyun-jun.
Beyond the white blur of fabric, a familiar voice. The curtain swung back into place, and what appeared before Chae-won's eyes was—
-Say hello to everyone.
Their eyes met. In the wide classroom, only the two of them seemed to be in focus.
BGM swelled. Bright and upbeat as always — the kind of music that made tomorrow feel worth waiting for.
-…Nice to meet you.
Jun quirked the corner of his mouth into a grin. Chae-won smiled back. Different from before — a smile dazzlingly, brilliantly bright.
The Cherry on the Parfait Belongs to the Heroine!
Episode eight had come to an end. Now it was a perfect, complete finale.