“Ah.... I really felt like I had the whole world in my hands. Adults always said that once you get into college, you get a boyfriend—like, that much. And it didn’t seem wrong at all. So I did a full-on, all-out runway. I called my brother and made a huge fuss.”
Among rookie DJs, it was rare to see someone who could control their own voice like this.
Unlike the countless actors he’d met so far, Han Yeoreum wasn’t someone who merely made herself heard—she was someone who delivered. And the listeners would be keenly aware of that difference too.
“Oppa, look. Is this better? Or this one?”
“Just wear anything.”
“This one’s pure, this one’s cute. From a guy’s point of view, which is more attractive?”
“I’m sick of it.”
“Ah, seriously!”
It’s easy to get swept up in emotion. Some celebrities thought radio was easy just because only voices were involved.
But that was a mistake. When there’s nothing to see, you have to squeeze twice the fun out of your voice alone to keep people hooked.
“I spent forever picking out clothes, and I redrew my eyeliner over and over with my clumsy hands. And finally, I met him.... I asked what he wanted to say.”
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the difference between professional broadcasters and ordinary influencers came down to the voice.
“So, what did you want to say?” frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Breath control, dynamics, pacing—the way each word was refined versus casually thrown out was something listeners picked up on instantly.
“Thump. Thump. Thump. I was so, so nervous it felt like my heart was about to jump out of my mouth.”
The technical director dropped in a racing-heart sound effect and listened closely to the two voices.
“I’m actually....”
“Yeah! Actually!”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Huh?”
As a crow-caw sound effect played, a perfectly flustered, blank-faced freshman came vividly to mind.
“I froze on the spot. The guy smiled and said—”
“I’m a junior, and I heard there were freshmen from our department nearby, so I went to pay for them.”
“Ah.... That’s how it was. He was actually a much older senior. And what came next was even more shocking.”
“And I’m enlisting the day after tomorrow.”
Caw—caw—caw—. The crows filled a few seconds of silence.
“My first love was a senior taking a leave because of the military! As I stood there dazed, he spoke to me.”
Han Yeoreum seemed to intuitively know what ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) tone to use, how much distance to keep, and at what speed to speak. She didn’t fall behind Yun Hyeonjo in the slightest, despite the vast difference in their years since debut.
“CC is fine, but enjoy your school life a bit and think about it slowly. You’re twenty—it’d be a waste.”
You found yourself leaning in. Even knowing what Han Yeoreum would say next, you still felt curious.
As the number of moments requiring delicate adjustment decreased, the technical director’s room for intervention shrank too. Instead, a strong sense of matching rhythm together with Han Yeoreum took hold. Strangely, it was fun.
“How can someone be this mature? Every action, every word—he was exactly my ideal type, which only made it sadder.”
The more their dialogue interlocked, the clearer the character dynamics became. Like a textbook romantic comedy.
“Then enjoy your freshman year. Even among your classmates there’ll be repeat students, so don’t speak casually to just anyone. Got it?”
“....”
“You have to answer.”
“Yes....”
“Okay. Take care.”
“He patted my head and left. Watching his back as he walked away, I swallowed my tears. And just like that, my first love ended—short and intense....”
Han Yeoreum had even calculated the silence. The technical director seized the moment and dropped in a "boom" sound effect.
“...didn’t.”
* * *
—I like you.
—Want to date?
Yun Hyeonjo’s fan humbly accepted the uncontrollably rising corners of their mouth. They’d tried several times to manage their expression, but it was hopeless.
—After becoming a freshman, living department life, getting confessions, hearing at drinking parties that someone liked me, I still kept thinking of him.
Yun Hyeonjo’s voice, brimming with senior charm, tickled the heart.
—CC is fine, but enjoy your school life a bit and think about it slowly.
A romantic comedy sweetness they’d never once tasted in his filmography melted on the tongue.
—Thinking of his voice, and thinking again, and again, the conclusion I reached was....
A beautiful xylophone sound layered in as an effect. Yun Hyeonjo’s fan waited for the bulldozer freshman’s next line.
—CC is... good...?
Background music played once more. At some point, Yun Hyeonjo’s fan stopped feeling like they were listening to a radio show and started feeling like they were hearing an edited piece of a drama.
—Actually, I knew his Acebook. Seeing his profile pop up as “friend of a friend,” I made up my mind. His hundred-day leave. I’d meet him again and talk. First, I sent a message. Senior, I’m sorry about last time. When you’re on leave, I’d like to treat you to something good.
Did it work out for them? How did it continue? The fan recalled a Yun Hyeonjo role where his hair had been unusually short—a soldier character. It fit this story perfectly.
—He probably read it very late, but even so, as I waited day by day for his reply, my one-sided love just kept growing. Then finally, the ‘1’ disappeared, and he replied.
They’d started listening to the radio for Yun Hyeonjo crumbs. But after Yun Hyeonjo’s line—
—Why would I let you treat me? When you’re a freshman, it’s the senior who buys the meal.
—they began anticipating Han Yeoreum’s voice that would follow next.
—That’s how our second meeting happened. With his hair cut short, he looked even more amazing. Despite boldly asking to meet, I barely managed to speak, and he kept the conversation going the whole time.
—Professor Kwak Cheolsik still makes the exams brutal?
—Yes.... They’re so hard.
—If you had past exam questions, it’d be manageable. Want me to help?
In between their ticklish, date-like conversation, a bomb dropped.
—I... like you.
Han Yeoreum’s voice trembled, like a clumsy confession blurted out after much deliberation.
—It felt like those words were about to spill out of my mouth on their own. I didn’t even know much about him yet, but I just liked him so, so much. His broad back carrying me on a cold winter night, his voice patiently answering every bit of my drunken rambling—I loved it all.
Yun Hyeonjo’s fan couldn’t help recalling their own freshman days.
Not knowing your limit and getting drunk at twenty. A gentle senior who took care of you just as you were, without scolding or teasing.
‘If you don’t like this, it’s illegal.’
There was no choice but to fall for him. And Yun Hyeonjo’s calm words added legitimacy to that feeling.
—You eat well.
—Even the way he pushed the plate toward me, telling me to eat more without knowing how I felt, was nice. At the café, I gathered my courage and spoke again.
Han Yeoreum drew in a soft breath. As if gathering the emotions threatening to burst out.
—No matter how much I think about it, I really think I like you, senior...! At that, the man drinking his coffee froze for a moment. Then, just like before, he smiled.
—When you’re a freshman, seniors just look impressive. That’s how it is.
—No, they don’t. Other seniors don’t look impressive at all.
—Then you’re just confused because you were drunk back then.
—How can someone even reject you this coolly? He didn’t seem to realize it. That my feelings weren’t going to break.
The background music faded, leaving only Han Yeoreum’s voice. It was like a question, born of resolve, stepping closer to him.
—Then want to make a bet? frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
—A bet?
—On how long I can keep liking you.
It was about time for the story to reach its end.