“Excuse me.”
“No worries.”
The interior was surprisingly tidy for a house supposedly inhabited by a grandfather alone.[1]
There was a large family photo hanging in the living room.
Grandfather told me to contact my mother, then started making a soybean paste stew for me.
I pretended to call my nonexistent mother and then sat down at the table, enticed by the aroma.
The first spoonful of stew made me realize how much effort grandfather had put into it, perhaps a bit too much.
“Grandfather… how much soybean paste did you put in this…?”
Although the stew was quite salty, I drank water and scraped every grain of rice and drop of soup from the bowl.
It must not have been easy for him to do so much for a student he had just met.
As I rinsed my mouth with water, grandfather asked,
“Do you do housework?”
“Despite being born to parents who aren’t much interested in me, I grew up well-cared-for, never having to touch a drop of detergent….”
“Goodness, you talk a lot. Stop your chatter and wipe the table with that cloth.”
“Yes.”
I did the dishes, watered the plants on the veranda, mopped the floor, and hung the laundry that was in the washing machine—all in place of the grandfather who had a bad back.
I received praise for my good work, which felt quite satisfying.
Grandfather, fetching an apple from the refrigerator, asked,
“Do you know how to peel fruits? …Looking at your clueless face, I guess not.”
“Actually, being from a privileged family, I’ve only eaten fruit that others have cut for me.”
Grandfather looked at me as if saying “What nonsense” with his eyes.
“You better learn soon. When you find a good partner and get married, cutting fruit nicely for them is a way to score points.”
“I don’t plan on getting married…”
The only marriage in my life would be in-game content, and even then, only if there were benefits attached.
“…What?”
And so began the relentless nagging bombardment from the extremely annoyed grandfather.
I initially sat quietly and listened.
“Do you plan to grow old and die alone? Looking at you, you seem like you’ve never even spoken to a woman before; if you think like that, you’re really hopeless.”
But it seemed like grandfather had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
Toward the end, I found myself countering his words while munching on an apple that grandfather had cut into a cute rabbit shape.
“That’s not true! I’ve had people who only know my name and face ask me out!”
“Aigoo, such bluff. Do they have no eyes? What’s so attractive about a guy without any charming features except his eyes? I’ll show you my photos from my prime days; look at them and come to your senses.”
It was true that aside from my eyes, I had no particularly handsome features, but it wasn’t like I was ugly.
To say that to my face… that was a bit harsh.
“Look carefully! I don’t have any unattractive features!”
After he heard what I said, grandfather, who had been searching for his old photos, looked at my face for a while and then grudgingly muttered that I was right.
Let’s not forget: My face isn’t ugly—it’s just less handsome compared to how it used to look.
Anyway, that was the case.
Let’s pray again today.
Please give me back my face.
* * *
After charging my phone, which had run out of battery, I turned it on late to find a series of messages and missed calls from Ban Yohan.
Honestly, I thought he wouldn’t care much about others’ affairs, but seeing this made me feel a bit sorry, so I explained with emoticons.
Anyhow, Go Sujong’s house was heaven.
The Wi-Fi was fast, and the heater was warm.
If I had my way, I wouldn’t want to leave here ever.
[This is a temporary shelter.]
But it seemed like the system was full of intentions to kick me out.
While peeling oranges and watching a music program, grandfather casually asked,
“Why did you fight with your mom?”
“I didn’t fight with her.”
Whether it was my in-game parents who didn’t exist or my real parents who gave birth to me, I never fought with them.
I answered and tossed an orange into my mouth, then grimaced.
“Ugh, too sour.”
“Silly kid, the ones I’ve peeled here are soft and sweet.”
Grandfather pushed a plate of peeled oranges toward me.
I split one into two and popped it into my mouth.
“Do you think I’ll let you live here for a thousand years?”
“Eeeh, no?”
“Why would I keep a cheeky guy like you around? I’ll kick you out as soon as the sun rises tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, right away?!
“I grabbed Grandfather’s hand and made my face look as pitiful as possible.
[Due to the effect of the trait Born Pitiful, Go Sujong looks at you as if you’re a puppy-like grandchild.]
Right, right.
Good job, system.
[Ah…
Go Sujong’s Favorability +8
Current Favorability +26]
I’ve always thought there must be someone behind this system.
Otherwise, how could it anger people so effectively?
“…If you have nowhere to go after leaving, then come back.”
“Yes!”
Hehe, I got myself a home.
* * *
– Pick Your Heart [Sorry I just saw your message, I was charging my phone]
– Pick Your Heart [I’m at home now]
– Pick Your Heart [Sorry for making you worry]
– Pick Your Heart [(Dog emoticon expressing apology)]
Ban Yohan frowned slightly as he checked the reply from On Raon after a long wait, then flipped his phone over.
He felt something odd about the context-free statement that winning meant he could sleep over, and he got worried something might have happened when he called but only heard the phone was turned off.
If On Raon had been in contact with Ban Yohan in any way, he would have received a message saying Ban Yohan’s favorability had significantly decreased.
Watching Ban Yohan’s natural behavior, Seed Entertainment trainee Kang Jiwu asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“No reason.”
His expression said otherwise.
“Is it the guy who called earlier?”
“Yeah. He looks exactly like someone who’d easily get scammed, plus he was talking nonsense, so I wondered what was going on.”
“Well, as long as nothing happened, it’s fine. Tell me more about what happened there. How was it?”
At that offhanded remark, Ban Yohan, with a thin smile, suddenly picked up a cushion that was lying around and began hitting Kang Jiwu’s back with it.
Thump, thump.
Intellect character Ban Yohan’s strength stat was more than five times that of a newbie like On Raon, who had nothing.
Under the undeniable force contained in the soft, heart-shaped cushion, Kang Jiwu bent forward, screaming.
“Have you lost your mind, Ban Yohan? I’m a patient. My cast isn’t even off yet!”
Kang Jiwu had a cast from below his right knee down to his foot.
The moment Kang Jiwu, having caught Ban Yohan’s attention to his blue cast, felt relieved, the cushion beating resumed.
“What does it matter? You hurt your leg, and I’m hitting your torso. Plus, because of that cast, I had to go in your place.”
“You’re the one who said it seemed fun and volunteered to go as a substitute since you were on a break….”
“Yeah, that was me. But because of that, I was the only trainee available because everyone else from the company had to go out, remember? Keep bragging if you’re so proud.”
“Ahaha, not exactly proud, just did what anyone would have…”
“Laughing?”
“Sorry. Ah, my bad, all my fault!”
Only after a satisfactory round of cushion beating did Ban Yohan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a relieved expression.
And then, he laughed refreshingly and brightly.
“Right. It was actually more fun than I expected.”
“…Hey.”
There were some unpleasant moments, sure, but it was whatever.
Ban Yohan nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.
Seomun Gyeol entered the lounge with a drink in hand right when Kang Jiwu, clearly unlucky and with a personality issue, vowed bloody revenge on his decade-long friend.
As usual, seeing Kang Jiwu and Ban Yohan looking friendly, Seomun Gyeol handed them each a warm chocolate drink and asked with a blunt expression,
“Hyung, did you get in touch with Raon?”
“Just a while ago. His battery died.”
As Kang Jiwu was opening the can with a word of thanks, he turned his head and interjected in a slightly sharp tone,
“Raon?”
“The guy from earlier.”
“That guy? On Raon? The one from True?”
“Yeah. Why, you know him?”
The usually lively Kang Jiwu’s unusual reaction made Ban Yohan and Seomun Gyeol, who both knew him well, grow serious too.
After a moment of serious contemplation, Kang Jiwu decided to speak up.
“When he was in True…”
* * *
The next day, I left the house with a single Shin Saimdang bill[2], embodying the noble will of Grandfather Go Sujong telling me not to wander outside hungry on a cold day.
Of course, I insisted I was fine without the money out of politeness.
“Take it. When an adult offers you something, just be thankful and accept it.”
“Thank you!”
I was persuaded.
I, too, must become such a cool grandfather 60 years later.
I was leaving grandfather’s house for the recording of Pick Your Heart 3’s signal song, “Heart Attack.”
The staff had sent new materials the night before, stating that today was the recording.
Because grandfather went to bed early, I also slept early.
This meant I had to check the schedule in the morning and prepare in a hurry.
I took public transportation to the studio in Seoul.
In the studio, there were about forty trainees and the composer of “Heart Attack,” Jeong Haneul, also known as Sky Jeong.
Nagase Ritsu, who was with the Star Production trainees, spotted me and waved slightly.
I waved back.
The studio, designed in dark brown, exuded a luxurious atmosphere with its soft lighting.
After a while, Jeong Haneul, who had been sitting alone on a plush chair listening to music with his back to the trainees, stood up.
He glanced at the trainees, who were either uncomfortably seated on the long sofa or standing awkwardly nearby.
“Let’s see. Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen… Yes, all thirty-seven of you are here. Hello, I am Jeong Haneul, the composer in charge of ‘Heart Attack.’”
“Hello!”
“As you might have heard, the reason I’ve gathered you here today is for the upcoming ‘Heart Attack’ music recording. While all trainees except those F-ranks—who lacks the skill—will record over the next two days, as you’re aware, only those who can match the feel of the song as I envisioned it will be the main voices.”
“Yes!”
After adding a few more explanations, Jeong Haneul quickly called out names and distributed lyric sheets with certain parts highlighted in fluorescent pen.
“Trainee Oh Hyeonjin.”
“Yes.”
“Lastly, Trainee On Raon.”
“Thank you.”
The lyric sheet with my name and the number 23 written at the top had the chorus and hook marked in fluorescent pen.
“The number next to your name is your order, so if you think your turn is a bit later, feel free to practice in the next room.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t strain your voice too much before recording. Let’s start with Trainee Seo Chanbin. Please go inside and warm up your voice.”
Seo Chanbin, clearly nervous, entered the recording booth.
Having received a later number, I headed to the next room.
Since it was a song we had been singing to the point of exhaustion during our dorm life, there was nothing new to learn.
I just warmed up my voice with the other trainees, pondering over the feel the composer wanted, and tried singing the highlighted parts in various ways.
Before I got too tired, I returned to my seat to find that the recording was already in full swing.
I asked a trainee nearby how many had gone in, and he told me it was the seventh person now.
It seemed the recording was going slower than expected.
Maybe the composer was a bit picky.
[1] Raon uses the term 할아버지 (“hal-abeoji”) to refer to Go Sujong. It literally means “grandfather,” but not necessarily as his real grandfather. 할아버지is often used to respectfully refer to any elderly males.
[2] It’s the 50,000 Korean won banknote. It’s a little bit less than $40.
