"Huh?"
"·····"
Park Eun-jin smiled awkwardly.
Lee Ji-hoon's mind went blank for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"Do you live around here?"
In the end, he just brushed past it. When he thought about it, it wasn't like they'd met out in the world somewhere — they were students at the same school, same year. What was the big deal about knowing someone's name?
"Over at Dalbit Apartments."
Park Eun-jin pointed toward a building.
"Oh·····"
*That's really close.*
It was less than a ten-minute walk from Ji-hoon's place. This park itself was already pretty near his house to begin with.
"My place is over that way."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
An awkward silence settled between them.
*Funny.*
Close enough to call them neighbors, practically.
And yet Ji-hoon had no memory of her existence whatsoever.
Objectively speaking, she was tall and quite pretty — a high school girl who would've turned heads.
And yet his past self, a red-blooded teenage boy, hadn't even registered her face? At the same school, no less?
*Well.*
Back then, he'd barely ever come to this park even though it was right by his house. He'd never been much of an outdoorsy type to begin with.
They'd simply had no interest in each other, so even living nearby, they'd never crossed paths.
"But you knew my name."
"Hm?"
Park Eun-jin smiled. To Ji-hoon it had been nothing worth dwelling on, just something to gloss over — but apparently she saw it differently.
"Oh, well, you're kind of famous."
"Me? What are you talking about."
"You did well at the sports day, too."
"What does that have to do with anything."
"·····"
A pretty easygoing girl. Ji-hoon found himself slightly on the back foot.
"I know you too, Lee Ji-hoon."
"Me?"
"Yeah!"
"How, though? Ha ha·····"
From Ji-hoon's perspective, him knowing her made a certain kind of sense. But the reverse was harder to wrap his head around.
"Aren't you the guy who studies like crazy?"
"Who said that?"
"Choi Na-yeon."
"What? Na-yeon?"
"Na-yeon and I went to middle school together. We're still close."
"Ah, I see."
Ji-hoon thought of the familiar name with a small warmth.
First-semester vice class president, no longer holding any title now, but still someone who moved through the class with effortless ease.
Maybe it was because he genuinely liked Choi Na-yeon — thought of her as a steady, good-natured person — but hearing that Park Eun-jin was her friend nudged his impression of her up a notch.
"Are you playing basketball?"
"Yeah. I come out here to the park sometimes."
"Mm."
Ji-hoon nodded with a smile.
*Good timing. I was getting bored.*
Nothing grand about it, but there was something quietly pleasant about the moment. Waiting for the pizza to be ready — he could've just killed the time doing nothing, and that would've been fine too.
"Want to play one-on-one?"
"What?"
"First to five. Loser buys drinks at the convenience store."
Ji-hoon was the one to propose the bet.
Park Eun-jin looked mildly surprised, then nodded.
"Sure. You seem pretty confident, though — considering you said you knew about me."
"Well, yeah."
"I guess when you're that tall, you've got reason to be. And from what I saw before, you can actually play."
Park Eun-jin kept her expression relaxed as she bounced the ball and passed it over to Ji-hoon.
*This is fun.*
Ji-hoon was enjoying himself. There was something different about this girl.
Easygoing, but with a strangely mature quality to her — if that was even the right word for it.
"You go first."
"You sure you won't regret it?"
"Of course not."
Park Eun-jin squared up, eyes on Ji-hoon.
She moved with the ease of someone who'd played a lot of one-on-one.
*Good. That's more like it.*
A former athlete, and tall for a girl at that.
If it hadn't been someone like Park Eun-jin, he wouldn't have bothered challenging a girl to a proper game, even just for fun.
"Here I come."
"Come on then."
Ji-hoon with the first possession.
Park Eun-jin held her defensive stance, unhurried.
"Oh—"
But from where she stood on defense, it was startling — Ji-hoon pulled up and shot from right above her head.
He played basketball as a hobby, but it was a clean shooting form you didn't often see.
Swish—!
"That's one."
He scored with almost no effort and went to retrieve the ball.
"Hey, that's not fair."
"You can't give me that much space."
"Hmm."
Park Eun-jin shook her head. She kept her smile, but she was still a high school girl at the end of the day — the faint sting of it showed.
Most people in a one-on-one don't have that kind of confidence in their shot. She'd been watching for him to take the ball and drive — and then this.
"Go."
"Go ahead."
Tap tap tap.
*Oh?*
Park Eun-jin moved faster than Ji-hoon expected, and before he knew it, the ball was up and through the rim.
"Oh, it went in."
"Next."
"·····"
Eyes alive, Park Eun-jin.
*Former athlete, alright.*
The competitive drive in her was something else.
"Ugh."
"Hff."
Park Eun-jin pressed up tight, making it nearly impossible for Ji-hoon to get a clean look. He couldn't find a way through.
*Right. Not yet.*
His body wasn't there yet. When he'd played with friends earlier in the year, he'd been coasting and hadn't noticed — but now he could feel it clearly. He was still out of shape.
Swish—!
"How did that even go in?"
"One more and I win."
But Ji-hoon, who'd kept basketball as a hobby well into his twenties, led 4–3.
One more basket and it was over.
*That was close.*
Ji-hoon was less worried about losing than about taking too long to pick up the pizza. Still, another five minutes or so shouldn't be a problem.
"Ah!"
"·····"
*Didn't go in.*
Park Eun-jin's forced shot from under the basket.
She'd jumped with her form already breaking down.
"Oh—!"
In that moment, Ji-hoon saw her come down in a slightly unstable landing.
She had the spring of a volleyball player — she'd gone up high, and the drop was real.
Thud.
"Hah."
"·····"
*Hm?*
She didn't fall, at least.
But Ji-hoon caught the way Park Eun-jin's face went pale for just a moment.
*She was an athlete, though.*
A landing that unsteady — she would've dealt with that a hundred times. So why that reaction?
*Oh.*
A thought surfaced. She'd apparently been quite good at volleyball in middle school, then stopped. The reason she quit — could it be?
*An injury.*
Back in his Kabukicho days, he'd met Japanese college girls who'd played sports in high school. Some had even aimed for the pros. Japan had a strong women's volleyball culture, so there'd been a few former volleyball players among the regulars — and sometimes, when the drinks loosened them up, they'd talk.
*A bad injury made me quit. Even now, just thinking about it makes me break into a cold sweat. Volleyball means jumping constantly, without warning—*
"·····"
He'd dealt with enough women who'd changed course mid-life to pick up a feel for it. And if someone was opening up like that to a host, it meant they wanted to be heard.
*That's right.*
Ji-hoon had, for a time, genuinely liked those kinds of customers.
There was no easier mark than a woman carrying something dark inside her. Didn't matter whether it was her heart or her wallet.
"Going."
"Yeah!"
*Is she locked in?*
4–4 now, one basket to decide it.
Ji-hoon saw the fire in Park Eun-jin's eyes.
Thwack—!
"Damn."
A quick dribble, then a shot.
It hit the rim and bounced out.
*Doesn't matter.*
Win or lose, it made no difference. He wasn't at an age where a drink from the convenience store stung.
The reason he'd been playing hard at all was simple — going through the motions against someone who was genuinely competing felt disrespectful.
That last shot was one he'd be happy if it went in, and fine if it didn't.
"·····"
Park Eun-jin going for the basket.
Ji-hoon moved to cut her off.
*Hm?*
But she drove in too deep.
Bump—!
Swish—!
"·····"
Ji-hoon gave way. Park Eun-jin finished the layup without much trouble.
"I lost."
Ji-hoon conceded with a smile.
"Why?"
"Hm?"
"Why did you suddenly stop defending at the end?"
Park Eun-jin asked, looking puzzled.
"I'm a bit of a coward."
"What?"
"Thought I was going to get my foot stepped on."
"·····Oh."
Ji-hoon's unhurried tone. Park Eun-jin's eyes went wide, like something had clicked.
"Sorry, I think I was playing too rough."
"No, it was fun either way."
Ji-hoon stretched out his arms and shoulders. Time to go pick up the pizza.
"Let's play again sometime."
"When?"
"Hm?"
A polite thing to say. But Park Eun-jin caught it.
"·····Tomorrow?"
"Sure!"
A quiet laugh.
Ji-hoon smiled at how quickly she lit up.
*Not bad at all.*
It had been a genuinely good time. Looking at this park again with fresh eyes — it had its own charm.
***
"Slow down."
"Okay!"
Ji-hoon's younger sister Lee Ji-hyeon shoved a slice of pizza into her mouth without bothering to catch the toppings sliding off.
*She really goes for it.*
Ji-hoon watched his sister's cheeks puff out and smiled.
"Did you work up a sweat?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah, I had a bit of time so I got some exercise in."
"Look at my son, working so hard."
Ji-hoon's mother, Kim Mi-jeong, smiled with quiet satisfaction.
"It's just exercise."
Her son, who'd been keeping up a steady routine.
Even after the weight had come off, he kept at it — so he kept getting leaner, his body growing more solid. By his own standards, he'd still been carrying too much.
*Not quite.*
Ji-hoon thought he'd been putting in decent effort, but today's basketball had made it clear he still had a ways to go.
A sound mind in a sound body. He'd keep training consistently, keep working to stay light. That was the plan.
"Exams aren't far off now."
"Hm?"
Ji-hoon said it between bites of pizza.
It was probably the first time he'd brought up the exam period with his mom unprompted. In his past life, it had been a stretch of time he'd only wanted to get through.
"I think you can actually look forward to this one."
"Oh, come on. Just do your best, that's all that matters."
"Hmm·····"
Ji-hoon scratched the back of his head. His mom's expectations really were set pretty low.
"Wait, how hard have you been studying that you're saying that yourself?"
"Hm?"
Ji-hyeon looked up in surprise, pizza still in hand. Her brother saying something like that — that was new.
"Ji-hyeon, your brother's been working this hard and you didn't even notice? Hm? Hm?"
"Ugh, Mom."
Their mother pinched at Ji-hyeon's cheek. The baby fat hadn't gone anywhere yet — she was unmistakably, undeniably cute.
"I'm serious, you can look forward to it."
Ji-hoon held his ground.
He had to say it out loud. That was the only way to keep even a trace of laziness from creeping back in.
*Oh, right.*
There was a PE practical exam before finals. Volleyball — something he'd been quietly avoiding thinking about.
"·····"
The person who came to mind was Park Eun-jin.
***
"Let's see."
The next morning, Ji-hoon stepped into his room before heading to school. He'd been keeping his phone use to a minimum so it wouldn't break his focus — so now was the time.
Two videos uploaded.
The Korean ballad: 302 views.
The Japanese anime song: 101 views.
"Hmm·····"
For a first attempt, those weren't bad numbers at all.
But he'd let himself imagine something a little more — a lottery-ticket kind of hit — so there was a small sting of disappointment.
Subscribers: 58.
"Wonder if there are any comments."
What Ji-hoon checked wasn't his own channel.
[Kang Hyeon's Street Karaoke — Insane talent: music school grad aspiring singer vs. tone-god first-year high schooler. The day we made absolute history.]
[Views: 2,250,000]
"What?"
— Pinned by Kang Hyeon's Street Karaoke
[Hoonihuni: Hi everyone who subscribes to Street Karaoke! I'm the 17-year-old first-year high school student from the video. I nearly cried reading all your kind comments. I'll be uploading lots of good music on my channel, so please stop by when you get the chance hh]
"He pinned it."
Ji-hoon smiled, a little sheepish. He'd figured he'd done things pretty much on his own terms, but here was this kindness being extended to him.
Below it were links to NeTube and Fakebook. No need to include the Nekodong link for a Korean audience.
ㄴ I wanted to hear more, this is so touching ㅠㅠ
ㄴ the real deal
ㄴ why does his NeTube channel have so few videos
ㄴ I'm so jealous of that voice hh
ㄴ no photos on Facebook ㅠㅠ
ㄴ does he post pics on Insta?
ㄴ I bet he's so good-looking.. (heart pounding)
"Ha ha ha."
The NeTube comment section was still a pretty clean place back then.
*I need to work harder.*
He'd posted that comment just last night, and already this much — there was a real chance some traffic would start flowing in.
Ji-hoon felt a renewed push to do more.
Moments like this, one by one, were what made the grind worth it — the studying, the part-time job, the whole business of trying to build something as a creator.