15: Chapter 15, page 1! 5!

Jiang Zhiyu's proposal to be responsible for IU's album promotion planning was not out of thin air. He had been immersed in this craft for many years in the Tianxuan Continent. From the time TG Entertainment was just a rented office without even a proper sign, he had personally handled the planning and promotion of every single album. Back then, he had no team, no outsourcing companies, and no advertising agencies. All the concept planning, visual direction, promotional strategies, media scheduling, and fan management were done by him alone. Later, as TG Entertainment grew and established specialized planning and marketing departments, he still maintained the habit of personally reviewing every proposal and refining every detail. It wasn't a lack of trust in his team, but rather because he knew that in promotion, a tiny discrepancy could lead to a massive failure. Using the wrong word could skew the tone of the entire album. Releasing a poster too early could halve the hype. Choosing the wrong angle for a topic could fail to stir the fans' emotions.

Since arriving in this world, he hadn't had the chance to do promotion. It wasn't because he didn't know how, but because he wasn't qualified. SM only hired him to write songs, not for anything else. His identity in the company was 'songwriter,' not 'planner,' 'promoter,' or 'A&R.' Once the songs he wrote were included in an album, how that album was packaged, promoted, or performed had nothing to do with him. He was just a single link, not the entire chain.

But he never stopped thinking. Every time SM released a new album, he would buy a copy—not to listen to it, but to take it apart. He would disassemble the album to examine the cover design, the inner page layout, the paper quality of the lyric book, the photo selection for the photocards, and the logic behind the pre-order gift pairings. He treated every album as a case study, analyzing its target audience, promotional rhythm, topical entry points, and fan reactions. After several months, his mind was filled with complete marketing data for dozens of albums, from pre-order numbers to first-week sales and subsequent growth, from the frequency of trending searches to topic discussion levels and fan satisfaction. He didn't memorize them intentionally; his brain was simply accustomed to doing this.

Now, he needed an opportunity. An opportunity to prove himself. An opportunity that wasn't 'I say I can do it,' but 'Look, this is what I've done.' IU's album was that opportunity. But opportunities aren't waited for; they are fought for. During his first meeting with IU, he had made those two almost absurd demands—the copyrights belong to me, and the promotion belongs to me. IU didn't refuse, but she didn't agree either. She kicked the ball to the company's upper management: 'You'll have to talk to the President yourself.'

To talk to the President, one couldn't go empty-handed. He couldn't just walk into Loen Entertainment's conference room, sit down, and say, 'I think I can do it.' The President needed to see something. Not a 'promise,' but 'evidence.' Not 'I can do it,' but 'I have done it.'

But he hadn't 'done it.' In this world, he hadn't handled a single promotional project. All his experience was in the Tianxuan Continent. There, he was a gold-medal planner, the 'Midas Touch,' and the 'greatest enemy of the Anti-TG Alliance' that gave every agency in the Nanming Kingdom a headache. But those credentials were worth zero in this world. No company would recognize them, and no President would believe them.

He needed to create a promotional case within a week that would sweep through the Korean entertainment industry and allow Loen Entertainment to see his capabilities. Not just 'do it,' but 'do it and have it be seen.' What he wanted wasn't 'I did it,' but 'You saw what I did, and it became a hit.' If it became a hit, he would have the standing to negotiate. If not, everything he said would be nonsense.

Jiang Zhiyu leaned against the back seat of the taxi, his eyes closed. The streetlights outside flickered past the window one by one, the alternating light and shadow falling on his face like some sort of hypnotic beat. His brain was not resting. It was running at high speed, like an engine with the accelerator floored, the needle on the tachometer approaching the redline.

A case. He needed a case. A case that could produce results in a short time, was low-cost, controllable, and quantifiable. He needed someone willing to cooperate with him, someone with a certain fan base, a certain level of attention on social media, and someone who trusted him.

A person surfaced in his mind.

Karina.

One afternoon a few months ago, at the back gate of the SM Building. The light in the alley was dim, and the overhead wires crisscrossed like a musical staff. Kim Minjeong held a skewer of fried rice cakes, her mouth covered in chili powder. NingNing squatted on the steps, holding a skewer of fish cakes, the broth dripping down the bamboo stick onto her fingers, which she then sucked clean. Karina leaned against the wall, holding a skewer of tofu skin, eating quietly as her gaze fell on a weed growing from a crack in the wall at the alley entrance.

Jiang Zhiyu sat on the steps with a plastic bag spread out in front of him, containing a few untouched skewers. He was scrolling through his phone, not watching videos, but searching. In the search bar, he had typed 'SM Trainee SNS.' He wanted to see if any of the company's Trainees were active on social media. The results were few—most Trainees' accounts were private or simply non-existent. He flipped through a dozen pages and then saw an account.

The account's profile picture was a profile shot, backlit, with the silhouette outlined by golden light. Her features weren't clear, but the line of her jaw was beautiful. The account name was 'jm_1214.' The bio read: 'Just taking random photos.' Follower count: over thirty thousand.

He clicked in. There weren't many photos in each post, but the quality was high. The composition, lighting, and tone all possessed an effortless quality, as if they were taken on a whim yet also carefully crafted. The subject of the photos was mostly herself—sometimes half her face, sometimes her back, sometimes her hand. She rarely showed her full face; even when she did, she was looking down, turned away, or had half her face obscured by her hair. But that 'not letting you see everything' restraint actually made people want to see more.

Jiang Zhiyu scrolled through dozens of posts and then looked up at Karina leaning against the wall. She was still in the same posture—leaning, eating tofu skin, and looking at the weed. She was completely different from the 'her' in the photos, who was carefully composed and shimmering in the light and shadow. But it was precisely this difference that he found interesting. The her in the photos was a work of art; the her leaning against the wall eating tofu skin was herself. She knew the difference between the two, and she didn't confuse them.

"Ji-min," he spoke.

Karina glanced at him.

"Is this account yours?"

Karina walked over and looked down at his phone screen. Her expression didn't change, but the tips of her ears turned slightly red—not the shame of 'having a secret discovered,' but the kind of composure that said 'I've been caught, but it doesn't matter,' with a hint of 'well, you found me.'

"...Yes."

Kim Minjeong leaned in, and seeing the photos on the screen, her eyes widened. "Wow, Ji-min Unnie, is this you?"

NingNing also crowded in, her mouth full of fish cakes as she said indistinctly, "You actually have over thirty thousand followers?!"

Ji-min's face flushed—not from being complimented, but from being stared at by three people at once. However, her expression remained that cool, emotionless calm. She took the phone from Jiang Zhiyu, scrolled through a few pages, and then handed it back. She opened her own profile and pointed at the follower count. "Thirty thousand isn't that many."

"Thirty thousand isn't many?!" Kim Minjeong's voice rose half a pitch. "My account only has a few hundred followers, and they're all people I know."

"I posted those a long time ago," Ji-min said flatly, as if talking about something unrelated to her. "Before I became a Trainee. I stopped updating after that."

NingNing looked at the photos on the screen, went silent for a moment, and then said very seriously, "Ji-min Unnie, you really have great aesthetic taste."

Ji-min glanced at her, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "Thank you."

Jiang Zhiyu didn't say anything. He handed the phone back to her and continued eating his skewers. But he noted a number in his heart. Over thirty thousand. It wasn't a lot, but it wasn't a little either. The fact that over thirty thousand people were willing to spend time looking at her photos meant she had that 'something people want to see.' It wasn't just beauty—there are many beautiful people. It was 'making people want to look.' Between those two things lay the entire width of the Han River.

He pulled himself out of his memories and opened his eyes. The taxi stopped at an intersection near the SM Building. He paid the fare, pushed open the door, and stepped into the early autumn night breeze.

The barbecue restaurant the four of them had agreed on was in an alley in Sinchon. It wasn't their usual place, but a new shop NingNing had seen on social media, which 'supposedly has particularly delicious pork belly.' When Jiang Zhiyu arrived, Kim Minjeong and NingNing were already seated. Karina was sitting in the innermost seat, with a plate of untouched pork belly in front of her. The grill was still cold, and the charcoal hadn't been lit. She was likely waiting for him to light it—she knew he liked to control the heat himself.

Jiang Zhiyu sat down, picked up the lighter, and lit the charcoal. Red flames emerged from the gaps in the charcoal blocks, licking the grill. The heat hit his face, carrying the characteristic charred aroma of charcoal. He picked up the tongs and naturally took the seat directly in front of the grill. His movements while flipping the meat were the same as always—calm and steady. Every piece of meat was flipped with precision, each side grilled to a golden, crispy perfection.

NingNing was particularly excited today because she had taken first place in the vocal group during the monthly Trainee evaluation. She talked as she ate, her face glowing with excitement, her chopsticks gesturing in the air like she was conducting a silent symphony. Kim Minjeong listened beside her, occasionally interjecting with, "I heard you when you hit that high note from outside; it was really stable." NingNing was a bit embarrassed by the praise and lowered her head to take a sip of water, but she couldn't hide the curve of her lips.

Karina sat in the innermost spot, eating quietly. Her eating manner was the same as ever—slow and meticulous, chewing every bite for a long time. Jiang Zhiyu noticed she was eating quite a lot today—usually, she'd stop after a few pieces, but today she had already eaten seven or eight and was still going. Perhaps because the evaluation was over, the pressure had eased, and her appetite had improved accordingly.

The game of snatching meat reached a fever pitch when the third plate of pork belly was brought out. NingNing spotted a piece of meat that was grilled to a fragrant, oily crisp, perfectly marbled, and sizzling on the grill. Her chopsticks shot out with the speed of a fencer. Kim Minjeong had also spotted that piece, and her chopsticks reached out from the other direction at the same time. The two pairs of chopsticks met above the grill with a sharp 'clack.'

"This one's mine!" NingNing said.

"I saw it first!" Kim Minjeong said.

"I grabbed it first!"

"My eyes saw it first!"

Sitting in the middle, Jiang Zhiyu expressionlessly picked up the tongs, grabbed the piece of meat, and placed it on Karina's plate. Both sets of chopsticks froze in mid-air. NingNing and Kim Minjeong simultaneously turned to look at Karina. Karina looked down at the meat on her plate, remained silent for a moment, then picked it up, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly. After finishing, she said, "It's delicious." NingNing and Kim Minjeong immediately erupted in protests of "Ah—!"

"Teacher, you're playing favorites!" NingNing said.

"Oppa, you always give the best pieces to Ji-min Unnie!" Kim Minjeong said.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't argue or explain. He simply distributed the remaining meat on the grill to the two of them, one piece each, same size, fair and just. Kim Minjeong looked at the piece on her plate, which was clearly a size smaller than the one Karina had received, and pouted, but said nothing more. She picked it up, stuffed it into her mouth, and chewed loudly.

As the dinner neared its end, the meat on the table was almost gone, and the charcoal fire was dying out. Jiang Zhiyu called the waiter and settled the bill—it wasn't a split check; he was treating them. Kim Minjeong and NingNing stared at him with wide eyes, as if they were seeing something impossible.

"Oppa, you're rushing to pay?" Kim Minjeong's tone carried the shock of seeing the sun rise from the west.

"I'm treating everyone for once, so what?" Jiang Zhiyu put his credit card back into his wallet, his tone as flat as if he were saying 'the weather is nice today.'

NingNing and Kim Minjeong exchanged a look. Both saw the same thought in each other's eyes—something was wrong. Jiang Zhiyu treating them was inherently suspicious. It wasn't that he was stingy, but he was definitely the type to 'not spend money if he didn't have to.' It wasn't being cheap; he was just poor. So poor that treating them to a barbecue dinner was something he'd have to consider for days; so poor that every time he was treated, he would silently thank the person in his heart and then eat a few extra pieces of meat to store the calories for the next meal. Today, he had actually taken the initiative to treat them, and he had even rushed to pay, not even saying 'I'll get it,' but simply handing over his card.

"Oppa, did something good happen today?" NingNing asked tentatively.

"No."

"Then why are you treating us?"

"I just felt like it."

NingNing and Kim Minjeong exchanged another look. This time, both their eyes were filled with suspicion. But Jiang Zhiyu's expression was too normal—so normal that they couldn't find any flaws. He just sat there quietly, drinking water and looking at his phone, as if waiting for something. Waiting for what? Waiting for them to leave.

As Kim Minjeong and NingNing walked out of the barbecue restaurant, they were still discussing the piece of meat Jiang Zhiyu had snatched earlier. The two walked ahead arm-in-arm with light steps, like two little cats that had just been fed. The streetlights stretched their shadows long, moving slowly across the gray pavement.

Karina walked behind. She didn't walk fast, but her pace was steady. Her gaze fell on the backs of Kim Minjeong and NingNing, and there was a tiny, almost invisible curve at the corner of her mouth. Then, she slowed her pace.

It wasn't intentional; it was natural. It was as if her body had received some kind of signal and automatically adjusted its speed. That signal came from her peripheral vision—Jiang Zhiyu had also slowed down. He didn't overtake her, nor did he fall too far behind; he just maintained a distance of half a body length from her, neither too far nor too close.

Karina slowed down a bit more. Jiang Zhiyu followed suit. Their speeds synchronized in a silent tacit understanding, like dancing a dance that required no music. The figures of Kim Minjeong and NingNing grew further and further away, and their laughter and voices also grew distant, scattered by the night breeze and drowned out by the sound of cars on the street.

"Oppa," Karina spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear in the night breeze, like a pebble thrown into a calm pool of water, the ripples just reaching him.

"Yeah."

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Jiang Zhiyu's footsteps faltered for a moment. The pause was brief, lasting only a fraction of a second. But Karina caught it.

Her peripheral vision had been tracking him ever since they left the barbecue restaurant. It wasn't intentional; it was just a habit—observing him.

When he drank water, he liked to hold the cup with his left hand; when he flipped the meat, he would wipe the tongs on a napkin first; when he smiled, the curve of his right eye was slightly larger than his left. She kept these details in her heart, not for any particular reason, just because she remembered them.

The pause in his steps was a signal. He was hesitating. Jiang Zhiyu was not the type to hesitate. In her impression, he made decisions with lightning speed, never dragging things out. But now, he was hesitating. This meant that what he wanted to say was not something trivial.

Karina knew. It wasn't that "she knew what he was going to say," but rather "she knew he had something on his mind." And that matter wasn't something to be "mentioned in passing," but something that required him to summon his courage, deliberate repeatedly, and hesitate before he could bring it up. She didn't know what it was, but she knew it concerned her.

The two of them walked side by side on the road. Kim Minjeong and NingNing's figures were already so far away they were just two small dots, and their voices were completely inaudible, swept away by the wind and drowned out by the city's noise. The streetlight fell on Karina's face, softening her contours. Her expression remained that cold, emotionless calm, but her pace was very slow—slow enough as if she were waiting for him to speak.

Jiang Zhiyu finally spoke.

"Ji-min."

Not "Karina," not "Ji-min-ah," but "Ji-min." Two syllables, no honorifics, no suffixes, just her name. He rarely called her that. Usually, he called her "Ji-min-ah" or "Karina-xi," using honorifics or casual speech, maintaining a distance that was intimate yet polite. The word "Ji-min" was too short, short enough to sound like a sigh. It was as if when calling someone, no extra frills were needed; her name itself was complete.

Karina's breath hitched. She didn't stop walking, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"That Instagram account of yours," Jiang Zhiyu's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear; every word was like a leaf blown by the wind, trembling slightly in the air, "are you still using it?"

Karina turned her head to look at him. The streetlight fell on his profile, illuminating his features clearly. His expression was serious—serious enough that it didn't seem like he was just asking casually. His gaze was candid, candid enough that she could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes—not the nervousness of "fearing rejection," but the nervousness of "I'm afraid you'll think I'm crazy."

"I haven't updated it. But the account is still there."

"How many followers?"

"Over thirty thousand."

"When did they all follow?"

"Before I became a Trainee. I posted photos, people watched, and it slowly grew." Karina's tone was very flat, as if she were talking about something unrelated to her. But Jiang Zhiyu noticed that when she said "posted photos," the tiny curve at the corner of her mouth widened just a little.

Jiang Zhiyu fell silent. He walked beside Karina, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Streetlights passed overhead one by one, stretching their shadows from behind them to in front, and then flicking them from in front to behind. His brain was whirring—not wondering whether to continue, but how to say it. He had rehearsed it many times in his mind, and each time he thought, "Will she think I'm crazy?" A sixteen-year-old Trainee, an Instagram account with over thirty thousand followers, an IU album—these things were connected into a line in his mind. One end of the line was Karina, and the other end was the conference room at Loen Entertainment. He stood in the middle, clutching this line, not knowing whether to pull it.

"The promotional plan for IU's album," he finally spoke, his voice lower than before, "I need a case study. A case study that can prove 'I understand promotion.' Not 'I say I can do it,' but 'Look, this is what I did.'"

Karina looked at him without interrupting.

"Your Instagram," Jiang Zhiyu said, "I want to use it."

Karina's pace slowed for a beat. She didn't stop, just slowed down. Her body was still moving forward, but her thoughts were no longer on the road. She was digesting his words. "I want to use it"—not "I want you to help me," not "I want to ask for your cooperation," but "I want to use it." "It" wasn't her; it was her Instagram account. But she knew that behind the account was her. The account was an extension of her, her aesthetic, her perspective, the part of herself she wanted others to see. When he said "I want to use it," he was essentially saying "I want to use you."

"It's not to have you post advertisements," Jiang Zhiyu quickly added. He spoke faster than usual, as if afraid she would misunderstand, as if explaining something very important. "It's—your account, you as a person, your photos, your life, your aesthetic. These things have already attracted tens of thousands of people. What does that mean? It means you have something that makes people want to take a second look. It's not 'pretty,' it's 'compelling.' There are many pretty people, but not many who make people want to look. You have that thing."

The tips of Karina's ears turned red. Not the red of "being shy from being complimented," but the red of "his words made me not know how to respond." She lowered her head, looking at the tips of her shoes. White canvas sneakers, laces tied tightly, the bow symmetrical on both sides, neither too long nor too short. Her laces hadn't come undone today.

"I need a case study," Jiang Zhiyu continued. His voice was much steadier than before, as if he were speaking about something he had thought about many times, rehearsed in his head over and over, and every word had been carefully weighed. "A case study of 'how much a promotional plan I created increased someone's exposure and following.' This case study could be anyone, but it's best if it's someone I'm familiar with, someone who trusts me, someone who won't run away when I'm halfway through. I thought of you."

Karina looked up at him. His expression was very serious—serious enough that it didn't seem like he was joking, nor was he just making empty promises. His gaze was candid, candid enough that she could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes—not the nervousness of "fearing rejection," but the nervousness of "I'm afraid you'll think I'm a lunatic spouting nonsense." He cared about her reaction. He wasn't worried about "whether she would agree," but whether "she would think he was a madman spouting nonsense."

She suddenly felt a bit amused. Not laughing at him, but at herself. She had just said to herself, "No matter what he says, I won't refuse." Then he said it. Not "Let's get married," not "I like you," not anything she thought he would say, the kind of words that would make the air thick and heavy. What he said was, "Your Instagram, I want to use it." What he said was, "You have something that makes people want to take a second look." What he said was, "I thought of you."

She didn't know how to answer. Not "not knowing whether to say yes or no," but "not knowing what to say to let him know she didn't need to be convinced." From the moment he looked up at her in the recording studio, she had trusted him. No reason needed, no evidence needed, no case study needed. She believed every word he said. Not because he was right, but because he was him.

"Oppa." She spoke.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her.

"That 'something that makes people want to take a second look' you mentioned," Karina's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear; every word was like a leaf blown by the wind, trembling slightly in the air, "what is it?"

Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I know you have it. Because I've looked at you many, many times."

The tips of Karina's ears turned from pink to deep red. She turned her head, looking ahead, watching the backs of Kim Minjeong and NingNing walking away arm in arm. Their silhouettes were stretched long under the streetlights, moving slowly on the grey sidewalk, like two trees leaning against each other blown by the wind. She watched them, thinking about one thing—he had looked at her many times. Not the "many" of "many," but the "many" of "so many that she didn't know when he was looking, but every time she looked at him, he was looking at her." In the recording studio, in the practice room, in the cafeteria, in the barbecue restaurant, on the steps of the SM back door. Every time she looked up, his gaze was there. Not the evasiveness of "I'm peeking at you," but the calmness of "I'm looking at you because I want to look at you." He never hid. She had always known he was looking at her. But she didn't know he had looked "many times."

"Oppa." She spoke again.

"Yeah."

"What do you need me to do for that plan you mentioned?"

The corners of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth lifted slightly. The curve wasn't large, but it was genuine. Not the smugness of "the plan worked," not the relief of "she agreed," but a feeling of being gently bumped by something because "she really trusts me."

"I already have an idea. Tomorrow in the practice room, I'll teach you how to do it."

Karina nodded. She walked beside him, her pace perfectly synchronized with his. The distance, speed, and rhythm of every step seemed measured by a ruler. The two of them walked on this quiet street, neither fast nor slow.

Kim Minjeong and NingNing had already reached the alley entrance and were turning back to wait for them. Kim Minjeong raised her hand and waved at them, shouting, "Oppa—Ji-min Unnie—hurry up—". NingNing was on her tiptoes next to her, also waving at them, shouting something, but they were too far away to hear clearly.

Jiang Zhiyu quickened his pace. Karina also quickened her pace. Their steps remained synchronized.

When he reached Kim Minjeong and NingNing, Kim Minjeong asked him, "What secrets were you two whispering about back there?" He said, "Nothing." Kim Minjeong didn't believe him and pressed him several times, but he didn't answer. NingNing watched his expression from the side, then looked at Karina's expression, and then pulled Kim Minjeong, who still wanted to keep asking. "Let's go, let's go, it's getting late."

The four of them headed toward the subway station. The night in Seoul was still the same, brightly lit with endless traffic. The neon lights reflected blurred, colorful spots on the damp road, as if someone had spilled paint on the ground. Jiang Zhiyu walked at the very back, carrying the takeout container—inside was the leftover kimchi pancake and japchae, which Kim Minjeong had said, "Oppa, you take it back for a late-night snack."

He looked at the backs of the three people in front of him and silently reviewed tomorrow's plan in his mind. Karina's Instagram account. Over thirty thousand followers. What she needed to do wasn't "post advertisements," but "be herself." But "being herself" required design, rhythm, and content planning. It wasn't "post whatever you want," but "post the right content at the right time with the right frequency." He already had a complete content calendar in his mind—what to post tomorrow, the day after, a week from now; every node corresponded to a promotional goal. It wasn't to turn her into a "marketing account," but to turn her into a "better version of herself that is seen by more people."

He knew this plan sounded crazy. A sixteen-year-old Trainee, an Instagram account with over thirty thousand followers, an IU album. Between these things lay not just distance, but industry barriers, company processes, and countless people's doubts and distrust. But he didn't care. He only cared about one thing—whether he could create a case study that would make everyone shut up before he negotiated with Loen Entertainment. Karina's Instagram was that case study. Thirty thousand followers would become fifty thousand, one hundred thousand, and more. Not by buying followers, not by faking data, but by content. By the photos she took, by the words she wrote, by her as a person. He only needed to give a push from behind. Not pushing her over, but pushing her forward, to walk in front of more people.

"Oppa." Karina's voice came from the front.

He looked up. Karina was standing at the entrance of the subway station, looking back at him. The streetlight fell on her, softening her contours. Her expression remained that cold, emotionless calm, but there was light in her eyes—not the light of tears, not the light of laughter, but a quieter light, as if saying, "I'm waiting for you."

"You're walking too slowly," she said.

Jiang Zhiyu quickened his pace.

— —

[Taking Dongdong away, don't call~]

(14:50) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Radio recording is finished! When the host Unnie asked me about my "moment of happiness," I answered "when I hear a special person say 'you did well'."... The writer Unnie in the control room suddenly laughed out loud! But I didn't blush... Probably only blushed a little bit! (Sends a candid selfie of fingers gesturing "a little bit")]

(14:53) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Received a message from Oppa saying "the meeting went well" on the way back, and I silently cheered in my seat while hugging my phone. The Manager Unnie glared at me through the rearview mirror, but the corners of her mouth were turned up~ The whole world is indulging my happiness!]

(14:56) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Saw a couple riding a tandem bike while passing by the Han River, and I quietly fantasized about the back seat being tied with a honey jar and pedaling with Oppa... Ah, would the bike rust from being too sweet because of me? (Sticks out tongue)]

(14:59) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [The souvenir from the radio station today was honey citron tea, and I put it side-by-side with the throat tea Oppa gave me in the cabinet. One is labeled "Today's Sweetness," and the other is labeled "Eternal Spring."]

(15:02) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [No schedule in the afternoon, planning to practice the Chinese version of "Dreams Come True" that Oppa likes. Although the pronunciation is a bit clumsy, I want to sing the line "You gave the dream color" as lightly and sincerely as a confession.]

(15:05) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Oppa needs to be warm and sweet like honey citron tea today too~ (Sends a photo holding cheeks and smiling with eyes curved into slits)]