Chapter 31: The Conference (2)
Han Se-ra's call... As far as I remembered, it was the first since New Year's Day this year. I hadn't reached out to her first either. She was incredibly busy, and there wasn't much I could confide in her about anyway.
A friend I'd known since she was a baby. My fiancée—not just some casual connection born from our parents' drunken chatter, but a real, binding relationship. But now, we were practically strangers. Or maybe even worse than that.
Of course, it was all my fault. That's why I always felt sorry toward Se-ra, and deep down, I felt uncomfortable around her too.
It's a great feeling when someone close, someone you like, knows you inside and out. But when you know you have to drift apart eventually, can't cut ties just yet, and still feel drawn to them—and they can read so much from your voice and expressions... that's just awkward as hell.
So in the end, honestly, I didn't want to pick up, but ignoring it felt too cruel. I took a deep breath and brought the phone to my face.
"Hello?"
A low, calm tone answered—her voice always put people at ease—with a hint of amusement. >
"Ah, I was driving."
>
She knew me well, and I knew Han Se-ra just as well. She didn't buy my excuse but wouldn't press it—it wasn't her style. She was signaling she'd let it slide, and she knew I'd get it.
Our conversations used to be like that. We knew each other, understood each other, and respected what we didn't. Soon, she asked knowingly,
>
"...How'd you know that?"
>
"You still managing Zeta?"
>
"...I see."
After that exchange, conversation stalled. A silence fell, and I broke it first.
"How've you been? I heard from your dad you're coming back this summer."
>
"You didn't need to go study abroad."
Se-ra was brilliant. Any fancy title would suit her sharp mind, and her talent as an Awakener was exceptional too. From what I knew, she'd take a key role in Eternal Guild under Han Tae-gang right after grad school. The "parachute" talk was just humility—she'd be welcome anywhere.
But she denied it with conviction. >
"Just getting by."
<...Yeah?>
Now we truly had nothing to say. When people who once felt comfortable in silence start feeling uneasy, they forget how to talk. They blank on how they even conversed before. I realized that as Se-ra and I drifted.
In the end, we shifted to necessity over familiarity. >
"Yeah, something like that."
>
"Not my call... but I'll mention it."
A soft laugh came through the receiver, and she wrapped up. >
"Sure, hit me up. I'll reach out too."
As I gave the perfunctory reply to end the call, she suddenly asked,
>
"Yeah?"
>
Easy enough to answer, so I hedged politely. "Hard to picture."
<...Yeah? Anyway, got it. Talk later.>
Right before hanging up, her voice dropped softly with a request. >
*Ring*—I set the phone down, and Yoo Hae-bin asked with intrigued curiosity. "Professor, who was it? Your face got so serious. I didn't peek at the name. Her voice was pure nostalgia."
"The person who made Zeta."
"Huh? Who's that?"
"Someone you don't need to know."
"Aw, c'mon, at least a hint."
"The person who made Zeta."
"This isn't even funny..."
I dropped her off at her place amid her exasperated grumbling, then arrived home a bit later.
"Hungry? I'll whip up dinner quick—hang tight."
"I'm fine, really."
Lee Sea, munching fruit pudding—her snacking had spiked since White Day—replied casually. But I couldn't let my sister skip meals and unbalance her nutrition, so I ignored her and set the table. As we ate, a sudden curiosity hit me.
"You talk to Se-ra lately?"
"Now and then. Calls or texts once a week. Sometimes nearly a month goes by if she's busy."
"You reach out then?"
"...Usually."
She answered curtly, sipping water with every bite today. Even I could taste it—the seasoning was off; I'd zoned out while cooking.
After dinner, I shooed Lee Sea—who nobly volunteered for dishes—to her room, finished chores, and finally collapsed into bed.
The unexpected chat with someone from my past stirred up complicated feelings, and old memories flashed unbidden.
As a kid, I suddenly awakened to my reincarnation. My mind wasn't fully developed, but I realized this world was my novel, my parents its protagonist and heroine. I kept it secret, and Se-ra was already by my side before then.
She's not like Seo Yeon-hee, whose existence proves my efforts as author. Nor like Lee Sea, met post-awakening, affirming this world as real.
Han Se-ra is simply precious to me. Together since we knew nothing. Friends even after I awakened. A good friend. A cherished person.
I shattered that bond myself.
Right before Se-ra, early college grad, left for the US, we met alone after ages. There...
For the first time, she said it: To her, Lee Dojin was precious, always supported—but she hated me too. Despised, loathed me.
She never asked who I saw. Never brought it up. Felt me pulling away but never showed hurt. Treated me the same.
Except that one night. She bared unknown feelings, and I knew it wasn't anger-spoken nonsense—it was real.
I was sorry. So damn sorry.
We were already too close for hard truths... and grew farther after.
Over a year since she left, contacts countable on fingers. No meetings.
Years later, her high school words burned in me still—advice, plea to a wandering me: If you avoid effort from fear of failure, no one will blame you for failing—so don't.
I didn't refute. Couldn't. Never reveal what I was doing.
"Good trash." She coined it happily at first. Not to her then. She was young.
But last meeting, sincere: I acted like trash to her.
Rare calls, texts during her stay—we mimicked old intimacy. Surface only. Never deep.
When she returns... even that facade crumbles.
National Academy 1's anonymous community. Nicknamed Zeta.
Middle school winter break, first year—we obsessed over building it. Se-ra pitched a student-only space; I followed her whim.
Built the app, onboarded users, saw results... then the Great Rift hit.
To me, still vivid as yesterday. An old tale.
New York local time, March 30th, 8:30 AM.
In Manhattan's priciest apartment penthouse, Han Se-ra rose gracefully.
Her full-length mirror reflected stunning beauty—no words insufficient. Thin slip dress hugged dazzling curves.
She glanced at her phone, then headed to the bathroom.
And shoved the hair dye aside.
She'd considered trying it today, but changed her mind.
Turning on the shower, she stripped and let hot water cascade.
Her wet hair gleamed gold.
April 8th, Thursday morning.
Should be at school, but I was en route with Professor Seo Sang-wook for his conference presentation.
Nearing the destination, he confirmed again. "I'll just introduce you—handle it your way. Expect questions; crush 'em. Looking forward to it."
"Gotta do my best not to embarrass you, Professor."
A sleek building appeared. We parked, grabbed materials, and approached.
And at the entrance... bumped into someone.
"Oh, Guild Master Han."
Professor Seo Sang-wook greeted strides ahead.
Eternal Guild's leader. One of the 36 Heroes.
Martial God Han Tae-gang eyed me stoically.