Chapter 69
The morning of the recital arrived with a sky the color of polished slate, a crisp December chill biting at the air, but Haru barely felt the cold. When Mae-rin's car pulled up to the curb, he climbed in with a sense of quiet, almost reverent anticipation. The scent of her floral perfume and the lingering aroma of the coffee in her cup holder filled the small space.
As they wove through the streets of Seoul toward Na-bi's school, the conversation remained light and casual - brief touches on the weather, the impending holidays, and the heavy traffic - but beneath the surface, Haru's heart was drumming a rhythmic sense of belonging. Every time Mae-rin laughed at one of his dry jokes, it felt like a silent benediction from a family he had once lost.
Upon arrival, the school was a cacophony of excited children in costumes and parents juggling cameras and coats. They were ushered into the auditorium, settling into their assigned seats.
The stage was a riot of handmade props of glitter, cardboard, and primary colors.
Mae-rin was a flurry of activity from the moment the lights dimmed; she held her phone up with practiced steadiness, her face illuminated by the screen as she recorded multiple videos of the parade of children in various costumes, a wide, luminous smile never leaving her lips.
Haru watched the stage with a similar, mirrored joy, his own smile stretching wide and genuine. He kept his hands folded in his lap, deliberately refraining from taking any photos or videos himself. He didn't want to seem overbearing or "creepy" - after all, in the eyes of the world and Mae-rin, he was simply a kind hoebae from the agency.
Yet, the Sunghoon residing deep within him was screaming to capture every second. If he were still the man from the 90s, the top-tier actor, he would have bought the most expensive camera available and filled dozens of memory cards with Na-bi's every movement, adoring the footage until the sun came up.
When the "flower" segment finally began, Na-bi emerged in a costume that was mostly a giant, stiff yellow petal ruff around her neck. She scanned the audience with a focused, serious expression until her eyes landed on Haru and Mae-rin. Her face broke into a gap-toothed, radiant grin. She didn't just wave; she vibrated with the sheer force of her joy.
After the final bows and the thunderous applause of proud parents, they met in the hallway. Haru stepped forward, extending a bouquet he had spent nearly an hour selecting. They were yellow - a bright, defiant burst of color.
"For the most beautiful flower on stage," he said, crouching down.
Na-bi let out a squeal of pure, unadulterated delight, jumping up and down until her petal ruff wobbled precariously. She clutched the flowers to her chest, her eyes sparkling.
"Yellow! Yellow! Thank you,"
"Can we take a photo together?" Haru asked, looking toward Mae-rin.
The resulting image was a treasure. Haru stood tall, his handsome features softened by a look of profound affection, with Na-bi tucked against his side, clutching her flowers like a trophy.
Later, when Mae-rin dropped him off and he sat alone in his room, he stared at that digital image for a long time. His heart swooned with a happiness so sharp it was almost painful. He desperately wished he could set it as his phone wallpaper, a constant reminder of the family he missed, but he forced himself to tuck it away in a hidden folder. To the outside world, such an attachment would be unexplainable.
As the days crept closer to Christmas, Seoul transformed into a glittering wonderland of tinsel and LED lights. This would be the first Christmas Haru had ever spent away from his family - the original family of the 90s. The snow began to fall in earnest, thick and silent, coating the city in a white shroud.
Aside from a few specific winter scenes for his new indie film, his filming schedule had slowed down.
He spent his free hours helping out at the chicken restaurant. The shop was becoming a frantic hub of activity as the festivities approached, the smell of frying oil and sweet glaze thick in the air. The physical labor was a welcome distraction from the gnawing, persistent guilt that lived in the back of his mind like a shadow.
Every evening, when he returned to his quiet apartment, he would find the inevitable: a message from Raiven or a notification of a missed call. Despite the internal conflict that had plagued him since Milan, talking to Raiven had become a strangely comfortable ritual. In the safety of a voice call, Raiven felt like a dear friend. Sometimes, the other members of Re-Draft, Suho or Grey, would hop onto the line, their chaotic energy and bickering filling Haru's ears. He found himself keeping up with their promotional videos and variety show appearances when he was free, watching the "Raiven" persona with a mixture of professional admiration and personal longing.
Se-hee, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of holiday preparation. Her YouTube channel was thriving, and she was adamant about celebrating Christmas with Haru. When he cautiously asked if her family wouldn't mind her absence, her expression had hardened for a fleeting second before she shrugged it off. She had admitted she didn't have the best relationship with her relatives; she would much rather spend the day with him in the comfort of their shared home.
When Christmas finally arrived, Se-hee turned the apartment into a festive set. String lights draped over the furniture, and a small, perfectly decorated tree sat in the corner.
"We're going live tonight, Haru-ya!" she announced, herding him toward the camera setup. "It's great for your exposure before the drama airs, and honestly, the donations on Christmas are insane. Think of the money!"
She had spent hours setting up two cameras and organizing various games. She admitted she was skeptical about making it a tradition because the technical setup was "tedious as hell," but she wanted to gauge the audience's reaction.
The live stream began with a comfortable 30,000 viewers by the time.fourty minutes had passed. They played card games and holiday trivia, with Se-hee reading the comments aloud and occasionally pushing a reluctant Haru to read them as well.Se-hee was a natural, reading the comments and engaging the audience with her sharp wit. The atmosphere was cozy and domestic
"Haru-ssi, your skin is so good! What is your routine?" Se-hee read out, grinning.
Haru laughed, leaning in. "Just water and a lot of fried chicken," he joked, his deep voice sending the chat into a frenzy of heart emojis.
until, quite suddenly, the chat room exploded.
The scroll of text became a blurred white streak. The viewership counter didn't just climb; it leaped, doubling within seconds. Se-hee grabbed her tablet, her eyes squinting as she tried to parse the chaos.
"Wait... what? Guys, is this real?" she muttered. She looked at Haru, her jaw dropping. "Raiven is watching the live. The Raiven?"
Haru leaned down toward the monitor in confusion, his heart performing a nervous skip. Suddenly, the screen was flooded with high-value digital gift animations - the largest "price" gift available on the platform, sent ten times in a row.
Se-hee let out a glass-shattering squeal, jumping up and down in her chair. "Raiven! Oh my god, thank you for the donation! You're a legend!" She turned to Haru, nudging him hard with her elbow. "Say thank you! Tell him thank you!"
Haru looked into the lens, his smile tight and his eyes shivering with a mixture of affection and rising panic. He knew Raiven was watching him, dissecting his every move through the screen. "Thank you, Raiven-ssi," he said, his voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline.
Se-hee, ever the opportunist, leaned into the camera with a bold grin. "You know, Raiven, since you're feeling so generous, I should invite you onto the live sometime!" It was only ment to be a play to the crowd she didnt think he would actually follow through.
A few minutes after the words left her mouth, a request notification popped up on her dashboard. A request to join the stream from Raiven's verified account.
Se-hee's hands flew to her face. "Guys, you won't believe this! A special guest is actually joining us! I think I might faint!"
She scrambled to accept the request. Haru felt a sharp sting in his chest - a mixture of fear and a strange, bitter affection.
Ever since his talk with Se-hee about his conflicting feelings, he had strictly refused video calls with Raiven, agreeing only to voice calls and messages to avoid seeing those haunting eyes.Haru had tried to create a distance, a buffer of safety. He realized, with a jolt, that Raiven was likely doing this to force hi hand and to see Haru's face whether he liked it or not.
The screen split. Raiven's face popped up, illuminated by the professional lighting of a hotel room somewhere across the globe. Immediately, the viewer count skyrocketed to 300,000 and continued to climb at an impossible rate. Raiven was a digital hermit; he almost never went live, and appearing on someone else's stream was unheard of.
"Hello, everyone! Merry Christmas!" Raiven's voice rang through the apartment speakers, rich and melodic.
Se-hee was vibrating with excitement, her hand secretly reaching out to tighten around Haru's under the table. She shot him a knowing, sharp-eyed look that said, 'I know exactly why he's here.' Haru rolled his eyes at her, a silent plea for her to behave.
"Oh my goodness, Raiven! I can't believe this is happening!" Se-hee gushed, her hands clasped together.
"Nice to meet you," Raiven said, his public persona sliding into place like a well-oiled machine. He was charming and witty," a contrast to the quiet, intense man Haru knew in private. "I hear you're a big fan of mine."
"From who?" Se-hee asked, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.
Haru reached under the table and sharply pinched her thigh, making her scowl and hiss at him through a forced smile.
"Well, that's a secret," Raiven replied. He was smiling at the camera, but his eyes darted naturally toward Haru's window on the screen, searching for a reaction.
Haru couldn't bring himself to meet Raiven's digital gaze. He busied himself with the setup, adjusting a stack of game cards that were already perfectly organized, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.
"Haru? Why don't you say hey?" Se-hee prompted, her voice dripping with artificial innocence. The apartment fell into a sudden, heavy silence, broken only by the faint lo-fi Christmas music playing in the background.
Haru finally looked at the screen. His eyes lingered on Raiven - on the messy blue hair and the tired but hopeful expression. "Hello," he managed. His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, and the word came out strained and struggled.
Se-hee covered her mouth to hide a laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement at Haru's blatant discomfort. Raiven's smile widened, his eyes shimmering with a genuine, predatory excitement that made Haru's stomach flip.
"So!" Se-hee announced to the surging audience. "Raiven has agreed to join us for a short word game, so everyone stay tuned! He's also agreed to answer five questions from the fans!"
She leaned in closer to the camera, her grin turning truly devious as she looked at Haru. "And in exchange, he's going to ask Haru a question or two in return. Isn't that right, Raiven?"
Haru felt the trap snap shut around him. As the viewership numbers ticked higher and higher, he realized that there would be no hiding tonight.