Chapter 182: Good Thing I Asked Jia Unnie!

R̀​ëäd̃ ́ön̈ ́K̈​áẗR̈éâd̈ïn̂g̈C̃ãf́ê

We quickly bought food and returned to the spot where we’d laid out the picnic mat.

When we left, our hands were completely empty. But by the time we came back, they were full of things to hold.

“D-Da-jeong… Are you really going to be able to finish all this?”

While setting up the food on the mat, Jia unnie asked with a voice half-worried, half-horrified.

That’s how much food we’d bought.

“Don’t worry!”

“Well, you do have a big appetite, Da-jeong. Eat up.”

“Hehe, okay!”

I raised my hand energetically, flashing a confident smile. Unnie nodded in understanding and continued arranging the food.

The spread before us was nothing short of extravagant.

Starting with the Han River ramyeon I’d been craving, there was pizza, California rolls, spicy fried chicken, tteokbokki, and even tempura.

Though the variety was vast, the actual quantity wasn’t overwhelming. We’d bought smaller portions of many dishes to sample everything.

Still, even accounting for that, it was easily enough for four people…

Mm, no problem.

I trust my stomach!

“Ah, the breeze feels so nice. I can’t remember the last time I relaxed like this on a picnic.”

“Do you come to the Han River often, unnie?”

“Yeah, I used to come with friends sometimes. But after starting streaming, I never had the time.”

“Ah…”

Honestly, that made sense.

From an outsider’s perspective, being a streamer seems like a cushy, dream job. But in reality, there’s always something to manage, so free time is scarce.

Even for me—setting aside the BlueOshi channel as a hobby—between reviewing work and other tasks, I often end up scrambling to eat meals.

And since most of us live on flipped schedules, it’s not great for our health. Though in our group, only a few are like that—me, Yuna, and at most the CEO.

Actually, the real night owls are Yuna and the CEO. I do stay up late sometimes, but I try to wake up early, so it’s a gray area.

“Still, it’s nice to take a break like this with just you, Da-jeong. Shall we eat?”

“Yes!”

I was so happy she’d chosen me to share this precious time with. I answered energetically and grabbed my chopsticks.

My first target? The ramyeon that had been tempting me with its red broth and glossy noodles. Rayeon’s best eaten before it gets soggy!

Slurp—

I scooped a portion onto a plastic plate and inhaled it in one go. The spicy broth and perfectly chewy noodles filled my mouth.

Honestly, it was just ordinary ramyeon—but for some reason, it tasted amazing.

“So? How’s the Han River ramyeon you were so excited for?”

“It’s delicious! Way better than at home.”

“Right? Ramyeon just hits different here.”

Unnie agreed, slurping her own noodles with a satisfied nod.

My Han River ramyeon was the perfect choice!

After demolishing the ramyeon, I scanned for my next target: the spicy fried chicken, glazed in a glossy brown sauce.

Crunch—

“Mmm…!”

“That good?”

The moment I bit in, juices burst out, and the crispy coating crackled. Unnie smiled as I let out an involuntary sound of delight.

Now that I think about it, unnie and the CEO always smile like that when watching me eat.

“Yeah, it’s so good! Unnie, try it!”

“Alright. Maybe I’ll have some chicken too.”

She picked up a piece with her chopsticks and took a bite. A soft “Hmm…” escaped her—seems she liked it too.

My taste buds don’t lie.

Next up: pizza.

Though… this one’s oddly sparse on toppings. Wait, no—aside from cheese, there’s nothing on it.

I picked up a slice, tilting it curiously. Unnie, watching me, opened a small plastic container beside her.

“Da-jeong, dip it in honey. It’s even better that way.”

“Honey? On pizza?”

“Yeah. It’s called gorgonzola pizza. The saltiness pairs well with honey.”

Huh. So it’s a sweet-and-savory combo.

Taking her advice, I dabbed the crust in honey and took a bite. The cheese stretched like rubber, and the salty-sweet blend exploded in my mouth.

“Whoa, this is good.”

The crust was crispy, almost like a cracker. Loaded pizzas are great, but this simplicity hits different.

“Well? Not bad, right?”

“Yeah! I had no idea cheese and honey went so well together…”

“Right? Though apparently, Italians don’t actually eat it like this.”

“Really?”

So it’s like pineapple on pizza?

Why? It’s delicious.

Do Italians just not eat honey much?

Either way, thrilled by this new culinary discovery, I pulled out my phone and jotted the pizza’s name in my notes app.

Gorgon…zola? Sounds like a monster.

“Hm? Da-jeong, what’re you writing?”

“Oh, this? It’s my memo app, I call it CherryChat. Whenever I eat something tasty or do something fun, I note it down to share with the Cherries later.”

I showed her the screen. It was filled with new foods I’d tried and experiences with the members—a simple little diary.

“Pfft, that’s adorable. Do the Cherries know?”

“Nope. I’ve never told them.”

There wasn’t any particular reason to mention it, so I’d never told them.

When I shook my head and answered, Jia unnie’s eyes faintly lit up.

…Maybe she’s interested too?

Tilting my head curiously, I continued devouring the food one dish at a time.

Whether it was because we were eating by the open riverside, or simply because the food tasted good, or maybe just because I was sharing it with Jia unnie— every single bite was delicious enough to make my thumbs go up on their own.

Thanks to that, the frustration from my earlier recording struggles melted away in an instant.

Noticing my lighter mood as we cleaned up, Jia unnie carefully spoke up.

“Come to think of it, Da-jeong.”

“Yes, unnie?”

“Earlier, you said the recording wasn’t going well. Can you tell me which part it was? If I can help, I’d like to.”

“Ah, well…”

At first, I was excited at the thought of getting her advice. But now, I hesitated.

This was my first original song—shouldn’t I push through with my own strength?

But then I reconsidered.

I’d already gotten help from VN  when refining the lyrics. And honestly, I couldn’t have gotten this far in recording alone.

Asking for help isn’t something to be ashamed of.

I picked up my phone from the mat and showed her the sheet music. I was a little nervous—aside from the CEO, no one at the company had heard it yet.

“H-Here. The composer said I sound too strained…”

“Strained? Hmm, it’s hard to tell just from this. Could I listen to the song?”

“Ah, the recording isn’t finished yet. If a guide track is okay…”

I considered playing the demo with another singer’s voice, but Jia unnie shook her head firmly.

“No, I’d like to hear you sing it. I want to understand the feeling.”

“M-Me? Directly?”

“Yeah.”

I faltered.

Singing in front of the Jia unnie—Blue LUV’s undisputed top vocalist? Just avoiding her laughter would be a miracle.

But seeing her warm gaze, that thought vanished.

Unnie wouldn’t mock me.

She was going out of her way to help. I was being ridiculous, getting scared over nothing.

“Should I sing the whole thing?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.”

I steadied myself and played the instrumental on my phone. Luckily, no passersby were around to overhear.

♬~

As the song began, Jia unnie closed her eyes and listened intently. Her expression was neutral—neither frowning nor smiling—just deeply focused.

“I’ve let go of all my weak hesitations. I won’t waver anymore.”

I reached the part the composer had criticized, pushing through to the climax.

“Thank you…”

The final whisper-like line faded, and the music stopped.

Jia unnie slowly opened her eyes and nodded, as if she’d figured something out.

“Yeah, I think I get what the composer meant.”

“R-Really?!”

She understood after just one listen?

No wonder she’s Blue LUV’s ace vocalist.

My eyes sparkled with anticipation as she smiled gently.

“Maybe? Of course, I’m not the composer or the singer, so I could be wrong… But if you’d like my thoughts?”

“Yes! I’m all ears!”

“Mhm, you don’t have to sit so stiffly.”

I’d instinctively straightened my posture, but at her teasing, I relaxed again.

“First, I get the song’s concept—the message you want to convey. It’s about letting go of burdens, right?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“But to me, it didn’t sound like you’d let go. It felt more like you were obsessing over letting go, which just made the burden heavier.”

“W-What do you mean?”

Seeing my confusion, she elaborated.

“Think of it this way: If someone says, ‘I want to be free,’ and suddenly abandons everything to live in the wild, is that true freedom?”

“…No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re still trapped by the idea of freedom. It’s not genuine liberation.”

“Right. That’s how your emotions sound in this song.”

She patted my head and pointed to the problematic lyrics.

“If you’ve truly let go, it should feel light and effortless. But what I heard was more like you forcing yourself—‘I have to let go,’ ‘I will let go.’ Like you’re pressuring yourself.”

“Ah…”

Suddenly, the composer’s feedback made sense.

So I’ve only been thinking, “I need to do this,” without actually doing it.

But even realizing that didn’t guarantee I could fix it. If my mindset was the issue, no amount of self-scolding would help.

“Da-jeong, do you clean often at home?”

“Sometimes…”

The sudden question threw me off, but I nodded.

“When was the last time?”

“Two days ago, I think.”

“What about trash? Did you throw it out?”

“Yeah.”

“How did it feel? Lighter, right?”

“Yes! Like I’d cleared away something annoying.”

Especially when I stuffed all the trash into a bag and tossed it out—that feeling was indescribable.

Watching me nod vigorously, Jia unnie pointed at me as if she’d struck gold.

“That’s it.”

“Huh?”

“Sing with that feeling. Like you’ve just finished cleaning, tossed out the trash, and are admiring your spotless room.”

“W-Will that really work?”

“Why not? Even singers can’t have experienced everything in their lyrics. Sometimes, you borrow emotions from elsewhere.”

I was stunned by the unexpected advice, but I decided to try it.

“I’ve let go of all my weak hesitations. I won’t waver anymore…”

I sang as if I’d just cleared away clutter—light, unburdened, free. No forced intensity, just a brighter tone.

“Wow! That sounded amazing!”

Jia unnie grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. Even I blinked in surprise. For the first time, singing didn’t feel like a struggle.

“The composer’s gotta approve this. It was good.”

“I-I felt it too. It was different…”

“Yeah? Did unnie help a little?”

“N-Not a little—a lot! Thank you, unnie…!”

Overwhelmed, I kept bowing like a broken doll, repeating the same words. Jia unnie just smiled warmly and ruffled my hair.

“No need for thanks. I’m rooting for you too. You’ll ace this recording. And if you need more help, just ask.”

“Yes! I’ll do my best!”

Her encouragement felt like bottled sunshine. I clenched my fists and nodded fiercely, making a silent vow:

Right now, I’m relying on tricks to cover my shortcomings. But by the time this song releases—by the day I sing it for the Cherries—

I’ll pour out a performance that’s 100% me.