“.......”
Cha Yujin inhaled slowly.
The salty, exhilarating scent of the coastline—the rough waves crashing on the shore—filled his lungs.
Although it was summer, the early-morning breeze by the water was only moderately warm. The air at this Ganghwado beach reminded him of the shore near his home in San Diego.
In the past, he would have easily regained his pace in a moment like this.
But now his mind refused to clear. To be precise: Cha Yujin could no longer, with a simple breath, blow away those ‘loser feelings’ like dust.
It was impossible to return to how things were before.
‘This sucks.’
So he decided at least to keep calm. He could endure thirty days here in silence... if only he were truly alone.
But—
“Cha Yujin!”
“...!”
A voice called out. He turned and saw Inyoung’s shadowy figure, masked and blinking in the backlight of dawn. It wasn’t that it was dark—she was running toward him with the rising sun at her back, making her silhouette indistinct.
Yet he recognized her immediately—after all, he’d known her for years.
“...Take care, Cha Yujin.”
The colleague who had bid him farewell before his return home.
“Kim Raebin.”
But the moment that name left his lips, he realized, ‘She’s not the same person.’
His stomach churned.
Yet ‘Kim Raebin’—at least the name—had raced along the shoreline to shout:
“You really were here?!”
She had found him.
‘Does this version of Cha Yujin have some special memory here, too?’
Just the thought made him sick.
“I’m here, yes. But weren’t you looking for your friend?”
“...??”
“Then go back. There’s no such person here. I’m not your friend.”
He spoke so smoothly, words flowing without hesitation—Cha Yujin barely restrained his rising anger ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) and turned away silently.
Then—
“No! You are my friend.”
“...!”
Raebin’s voice rose. But Cha Yujin knew, ‘She’s not angry.’ In her tone was the quiet confidence of someone sharing newly discovered truth.
“Ever since we joined Ajusa, we agreed our experiences would differ. But I realized the bond we built before participation didn’t vanish.”
‘Before participation?’
Cha Yujin asked himself inwardly and then understood: before Ajusa—back when they trained together at the same agency.
“In that case, you really are the friend I met during trainee days. And you really are Cha Yujin, the one who studied math with me as a trainee!”
“.......”
“There’s our proof that we’re the same person!”
Cha Yujin was momentarily speechless. Not because he had a rebuttal, but because Raebin spoke with such conviction, convinced she had found airtight logic.
‘My goodness.’
It was a sight unfamiliar in recent years—but not wholly strange. Before his debut, and even afterward when preparing albums, he’d seen her like this occasionally:
“This approach will deliver modern charm while ensuring a polished performance.”
He remembered glimpsing that side of her then.
No—that’s wrong.
‘My friend was always like that.’
Kim Raebin had always been that person: courteous and humble at first glance, but stubborn and uncompromising, with unshakable certainty—and the talent to make it no mere arrogance.
Seeing that side of a long-time colleague again stirred unexpected emotion.
“.......”
Cha Yujin surely recognized it too: ‘She’s not exactly the same person.’ He had told her as much himself. Yet he could not deny it now—‘...But we share so much in common.’ He was still in his twenties. Faced with a strange world and a cornered existence, he could not reject that solid bond.
So in a voice caught by emotion, he answered:
[You’re right.]
At that moment a wave broke against the shore. Cha Yujin turned his head.
‘She probably didn’t catch that.’
Without needing a Korean response, a bigger answer came instead:
“Yes!”
“Huh?”
Cha Yujin rose from the rocks.
“Did you understand what I said, Kim Raebin?”
“I study simple English for songwriting—helps me nail punchlines.”
“Oh.”
For a moment, Cha Yujin almost asked what song she was composing, but reality dawned, and he held back—it would serve no purpose.
“...?”
Raebin hadn’t noticed his awkward pause; she forged ahead. Seizing the lighter mood, she recalled Park Mundae’s advice: speak freely when meeting him.
So she truly did. Raebin asked what seemed most important.
“Have you eaten?”
Food, shelter, clothing—essential. He hadn’t slept, so at least he should eat.
Cha Yujin hesitated, then smiled faintly and gazed back at the sea.
“No.”
“Then, though it’s early, let’s have breakfast.”
“I’m okay.”
He wasn’t in the mood.
Raebin looked stunned.
“You’re skipping meals from stress?”
“.......”
“...Or is it that you’ve been so free before that this situation feels overwhelming?”
His free spirit. Cha Yujin cradled his chin, stared at the waves, then replied offhand:
“I worked at a mechanic shop.”
“.......”
His five years of activity ended as if they’d never happened. After returning home, that was his new work.
“My parents offered me a surfboard shop, but I refused.”
He’d have found meeting jokers surfing all day at the beach unbearably annoying—a contradictory feeling of hating the life he wanted: to waste his days, yet despising others who did just that.
“A repair garage?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
“Not really.”
But he didn’t hate it. Cha Yujin had never failed at something permanently; he adapted quickly to hands-on work.
And...
“It was good not to think about anything.”
“.......”
Why did Steer Cha Yujin return home the moment his contract ended? In fact, other agencies did offer him deals—not huge ones, but enough to release another album or two.
Yet he refused.
“Nope.”
‘I’ve already come too far.’
He’d realized how foolish his actions had been.
“.......”
He had a simple life philosophy taught by his grandfather: if you can’t find a solution, search diligently; if you really can’t, cleanly give up and try a new direction. He lived by that until debut.
But the past years as Steer Cha Yujin were different. He never ‘cleanly gave up.’
A member arrested for drugs, a song he didn’t choose became the title, his name attached to projects he didn’t join, albums canceled... and rumors—rumor after rumor in an uncontrollable swirl. Though no fundamental solution appeared, he endured by making the best choice each moment. At the time, every sacrifice felt worthwhile. Even wasting himself was acceptable.
But after pouring everything out, nothing remained.
“Contract with Steer terminated.”
“.......”
An ending with no growth or reversal—he had to accept it: he’d missed the moment to let go.
“But here... this place makes me overthink.”
And that was painful. A world too perfect, where refusal never had to happen and all succeeded, became intolerable.
“I don’t understand why I have to see this damned perfect world.”
Unable to articulate that even in English, Cha Yujin muttered in Spanish. Raebin didn’t press for meaning; she quietly focused her gentle social intuition on his tone to grasp the emotion.
‘He’s in pain.’
And that alone was enough. Raebin quietly sat beside him, resolved to simply watch the sea together. She knew her own limits with words.
“.......”
“.......”
The waves lapped and sparkled. Before the calm shore, Cha Yujin felt a hint of liberation—free to voice words no one else would understand.
Thanks to that, he could nod at Raebin’s soft words.
“It’s eight already—perfect time for breakfast.”
“Yeah.”
They rose from the rocks, their footprints neat and straight.
After eating at the rice-and-side-dish restaurant Raebin had scouted, where they got private rooms, Raebin felt comfortable enough to ask his burning question.
“Cha Yujin, do you dislike hyungs?”
“Ugh.”
There it was—spoken outright. Cha Yujin nearly choked on his water but held firm. Since he’d already left the dorm, he decided to answer honestly.
“It’s uncomfortable.”
“Because you feel we’re infringing on your freedom for another Cha Yujin? Or because you feel we treat you as that other Yujin?”
“Umm... yeah.”
He reacted with hesitation—Raebin’s blunt phrasing was jolting. Then, after thinking, he offered a more candid, specific response: kindness, guilt, and... a bit of worry.
“And... Mundae hyung?”
“Huh?”
Raebin looked up sharply. Cha Yujin frowned slightly.
“I find him suspicious.”
“...!”
“He knows too much about me.”
Raebin’s jaw dropped.
“Hyung Mundae usually remembers all of us well—but as the planner of our group...”
“Nope! Not that—about me.”
“...?”
“Me, not you guys.”
Cha Yujin nodded inwardly. The person Raebin called hyung Mundae knew Steer Cha Yujin’s triggers better than anyone. Testa, objectively, hadn’t had a great track record—a boy band with a rocky history. A man of the same gender hardly would know such details beyond secondhand rumors. Yet Park Mundae’s interventions:
“Shut up.”
“You don’t need to see that.”
He always blocked at decisive moments, as if he knew the group’s triggers based on facts.
“Too much—unnatural.”
“.......”
Cha Yujin couldn’t fully explain but wanted to warn Raebin that something felt off. So he spoke up.
Then—
“Let’s just ask him directly!”
“What?”
Raebin immediately pulled out his phone—
“Raebin, are you crazy?”
“I’m not crazy, you idiot!”
“Id....”
As Cha Yujin recoiled at his first Korean curse in ages, Raebin calmly dialed.
“Hyung!”
Moments later—
“.......”
“.......”
One more person joined them in the quiet Ganghwado beachfront restaurant room.
“Hello.”
Hyung Mundae appeared, his under-eyes hollowed from a single restless day. He’d never looked robust or fierce—now he seemed even more drained.
‘Hmm....’
Cha Yujin felt a twinge of guilt but prioritized caution. As he braced himself,
“Hyung, Cha Yujin has questions for you!”
Raebin blurted out Yujin’s doubts directly.
‘Raebin!’
Cha Yujin prepared for any crisis, eyes sharp, reflexes ready—
But Park Mundae merely bowed his head slightly.
“Hmm, about that...”
And Cha Yujin, alert to social cues, noticed the nuance of that gesture. This man...
“I was curious.”
“...??”
“I just cared enough to follow your activities.”
He was embarrassed.
‘My goodness.’
Park Mundae—former Ryu Geon woo—found himself, impossibly, admitting to fangirling right in front of the singer.
