144. A Tempting Offer
144. A Tempting Offer
***
Serin scooped up a big spoonful of soft tofu from the sundubu-jjigae.
The spoon, piled high with soft tofu, disappeared between her small, delicate lips.
As the signature silky texture of the tofu melted away the moment it entered her mouth, Serin's hand moved again on its own.
The spicy kick of the stew was pretty good, and she found herself nodding without thinking.
"So this is why this place stays in business."
It wasn't PC-bang food. It genuinely tasted like a proper restaurant.
Restaurant-quality food, plus PCs to use, plus a decent way to kill time. It wasn't a place you came to just to game—it was a good spot to hang out, eat, and waste time when you were bored.
Serin hadn't expected much, and the food easily cleared that low bar, so she was reasonably satisfied.
She was leisurely working her way through the rest of the food when—
BaTalk!
Her phone suddenly went off.
Serin, who had just taken a big bite of a chicken skewer, picked up her smartphone to see who it was.
Park Soyul.
[Rin, thank you so much. Really.]
Serin froze mid-bite, unable to make sense of Soyul's message.
'Out of nowhere?'
She checked to see what the message was about, and it wasn't even in the RinTube group chat—it was a direct message from Park Soyul.
They usually exchanged even the most trivial chatter in the RinTube chat, so getting a sudden DM felt like it had to mean something.
Me.
[What are you suddenly thanking me for?]
Park Soyul.
[Just, for everything. For someone like you choosing me.]
"What's with her all of a sudden?"
At first glance it looked like a message with no real content, but at the same time, it also felt like Soyul was fishing for attention.
So Serin paused her meal and typed back.
Me.
[Did something happen?]
Park Soyul.
[No? I was just editing and having so much fun. It hit me all over again how glad I am that I became your editor, Rin.]
Soyul's messages were vague and ambiguous.
Serin stared at them uncertainly, wondering how to respond, and took another bite of her chicken skewer.
Park Soyul.
[Oh, by the way, have you had dinner, Rin?]
Me.
[I'm eating right now.]
Park Soyul.
[Oh, I'm eating too. What are you having?]
Me.
[Sundubu-jjigae, chicken skewers, a bit of everything? I'm eating quite a lot.]
She glanced over at the table and saw empty bowls and containers scattered across it, which made it obvious just how much she'd eaten.
Park Soyul.
[Wow, that sounds good. I'm just having a sandwich. Anyway, enjoy your dinner!]
"What the hell was that?"
No more messages came from Soyul after that. Serin bit off the last piece of chicken skewer and chewed with a peculiar expression.
'She just ends the conversation like that?'
Soyul had clearly reached out because she had something to say to me, but then she'd sent those weird messages and ended it there. It left me deeply unsettled.
"...Ugh. This is really bothering me."
Serin set down the skewer stick, lightly dusted off her hands, and picked up her smartphone.
Instead of messaging back, she just called Soyul directly.
@#$%.
The city-pop ringback tone played for only a moment before the call connected.
—...Rin?
"Yes, Soyul."
—Why the sudden call? Did you need something?
"Yes, I did. You messaged me because you had something to say, didn't you? If there's something you want to tell me or something that's bothering you, you can really just say it. Do you think I'd say something bad to you no matter what you told me?"
Straight to the point.
In my experience, conversations with women too often involved beating around the bush, so it was easier to just ask outright. That way misunderstandings didn't pile up, and it was far better than me agonizing alone over what someone really meant.
So she said it directly.
If you have something to say, say it.
—...
Unlike her earlier immediate responses, Soyul suddenly went completely silent.
Serin waited quietly for about a minute.
The continued silence made it clear there really was something, but if Soyul felt pressured to speak, Serin had no intention of forcing it.
She gently spoke again.
"Soyul... if it's hard to say right now, you can always message me later. And if it's really nothing, then maybe I overreacted. You said you were having dinner, right? Enjoy your dinner too. I'll let you go now."
—W-wait, hold on.
"Yes. Go ahead."
Serin focused, expecting Soyul to finally say something.
—...Thank you, Rin. Really.
Click.
With those short words, the call ended.
"She hung up...?"
Serin was momentarily dumbfounded. Then Soyul's words came back to her.
'Thank you?'
What was she supposed to do with a thank-you that came out of nowhere with no context? The absurdity of it made her let out a hollow laugh.
Slurp.
Serin took a sip of her grapefruit smoothie and briefly wondered what Soyul had meant by reaching out, but soon shook the thought off.
Calling Soyul back after she'd hung up would be ridiculous, and there was no point thinking about it any deeper.
***
Rin's voice was so soft and gentle as she casually asked if everything was okay, and Soyul felt strangely odd the whole time they were on the phone.
—Do you think I'd say something bad to you no matter what you told me?
She'd sent a simple thank-you message without any real content, but Rin had asked if something was wrong, and then even called her at the end to ask if she was really okay. For a moment, Soyul was at a loss for words.
She'd thought of Rin as just someone decent to work with, nothing more. But now Rin was suddenly worrying about her like family.
Soyul found herself reconsidering what kind of person Rin was, and the feeling was strange.
"Why is her voice so soft, seriously."
Soyul clutched her smartphone lightly and smiled faintly.
On top of that, Rin's words—asking if she'd ever say anything bad—stood in such stark contrast to Big Cat that Soyul had spaced out without saying anything, and Rin had even waited patiently for her. The consideration was almost flustering.
So in the end, Soyul had gotten embarrassed, said thank you, and hung up.
"...I should at least send something."
She'd ended the call so awkwardly that Rin probably thought she was really weird, but at the same time, she couldn't think of what to say.
How many times did Soyul type out a message and delete it while clutching her phone?
"Ugh, I don't know anymore. Seriously."
She couldn't figure out what to send, but ending things without sending anything felt too strange.
In the end, after a brief internal debate, she sent something generic.
Park Soyul.
[I'll keep working hard!]
Rin.
[Yes, I'll be looking forward to it.]
'Looking forward to it...'
Soyul stared blankly at the reply and let out a faint sigh.
"Should I take that as a good sign? She doesn't think I'm a total weirdo, right...?"
As she exited the chat with Serin, Soyul saw a new message waiting.
Big Cat.
[Soyul, I really want you to think it over carefully and make a thoughtful decision. I genuinely want to work with you properly this time.]
Big Cat kept sending messages at regular intervals.
Soyul let out a hollow laugh. For someone with a million subscribers, he was really clinging pathetically to a single editor.
A little while ago, Soyul had received an offer from Big Cat.
He'd said he'd pay three times her previous salary and asked if she'd work with him again.
It was, admittedly, a tempting offer.
Soyul was still living alone in a studio apartment, and her finances weren't exactly comfortable. A salary of six million won was undeniably significant to her.
But even so, the call with Rin just now had completely settled her mind.
'Getting tempted by the word "triple." I'm such an idiot.'
No matter how much he offered, she couldn't believe she'd seriously considered working again—for money—with someone who had badmouthed and belittled her.
And besides, the reason she'd messaged Rin in the first place was largely to steel her resolve at that crossroads.
The message was meant to firm up her commitment to working with Rin. She'd been Rin's editor for less than a month—if she suddenly jumped ship to another NewTuber, that would be genuinely ridiculous.
And hearing Rin's concern during that process had pricked her conscience.
"...If I had switched over, I wouldn't have had any excuse even if Rin badmouthed me."
Soyul murmured that without realizing it, then let out a small laugh. She opened the chat with Big Cat and started typing without hesitation.
Park Soyul.
[Don't contact me anymore. I have no intention of ever working with you again.]
With that message sent, Soyul immediately blocked Big Cat.
***
An officetel unit.
On the monitor, a coin chart rose and fell without pause, then suddenly shot upward in a steep curve.
A man with dark circles under his eyes leapt up from his seat.
NewTuber Big Cat, Cha Dohyeon, grinned with a manic smile and shouted alone into the empty room.
"Fuck yeah, this is it!!"
And for good reason—the coin he'd invested in had hit its upper price limit today and surged.
Even so, Dohyeon kept glancing at his phone.
"...Come on, answer already. Seriously."
Dohyeon had finally been forced to accept that his NewTube channel, BigCatTube, was on a downward trend lately.
He'd already cycled through five editors in just a few months, but no matter what he tried, BigCatTube's view counts weren't what they used to be.
And when Cha Dohyeon thought about it carefully, only one reason came to mind.
Park Soyul.
When she was editing his videos, the view counts had always been good. After she quit, the channel had been in decline.
He'd cut ties with her in a moment of anger because she kept demanding the overdue bonuses and incentives, but Cha Dohyeon was now keenly aware of how much he needed her.
"Well, still, there's no way she'd actually expect the full triple."
He'd offered three times her previous pay, so he wasn't expecting Park Soyul to refuse at all. But if she showed interest, he planned to negotiate the amount.
He figured she'd probably accept if they compromised at around double. As he stared blankly at the coin chart with that thought, Cha Dohyeon's expression suddenly changed.
The chart had turned blue. The coin was suddenly crashing.
Bang!
Cha Dohyeon slammed the table and swore out of habit.
"No, fuck, this is such bullshit. Why is it dropping?!"
Contrary to his public image of never swearing, he'd been cursing constantly ever since he got into crypto earlier this year.
As the coin chart rose and fell, Cha Dohyeon's mood swung right along with it—
BaTalk!
BaTalk rang.
Cha Dohyeon, who'd been staring at the coin chart with a complicated expression, glanced at the message without taking his eyes off the screen.
Park Soyul.
[Don't contact me anymore. I have no intention of ever working with you again.]
The message instantly set him off. He started typing a reply, then gave up and called her outright.
@#$%.
The dial tone kept ringing, but Park Soyul wouldn't pick up.
Dohyeon finally pulled the phone away from his ear and muttered in disbelief.
"No way. Did she just block me?"