Chapter 44: Participation Award

I sat on the swing and looked up at the sky.

The playground was empty.

A space that must have been filled with children’s laughter during the day was now silent.

The faint glow of streetlights settled over the slides and jungle gym.

Beneath them, insects fluttered, casting small shadows.

The cold metal of the horizontal bars shimmered softly under the moonlight, and traces of children who had played there during the day remained in the sand.

In the still air, the distinct humidity of summer lingered.

The distant sound of passing cars drifted faintly.

The occasional chirp of crickets rode the breeze.

As the night deepened, the air grew damper, and tiny dewdrops glistened on the slides and jungle gym under the streetlights.

A wind blew.

The swing ropes swayed slightly, creaking.

A faint breeze brushed against my sweat-dampened arms.

The air was still too warm to call cool, yet the passing wind was just refreshing enough to keep the heat bearable.

The damp breeze clung to my skin before slowly dissipating.

A nearby streetlight flickered, casting a yellow glow.

Beneath it, small insects gathered, drawn to the light.

“The light is too blurry, too indistinct.”

“It feels like looking at the moon, not the sun.”

“You should be the one shining, but you’re just reflecting something else.”

The judges’ comments circled in my mind.

The sun had fully set, and the moon hung in one corner of the sky.

Moonlight couldn’t completely push back the darkness.

Cold, faint light.

Unclear shadows.

That image had lingered in my head ever since I heard those words.

I work with light.

I shape stages with light.

But the light I created was blurry. Indistinct.

Like moonlight.

Cold and quiet light.

Not as intense as the sun, yet still making its presence known in the darkness.

That was the kind of lighting I had always made.

More than dazzling spotlights,

I valued lighting that softly enveloped the stage.

My light wasn’t meant to draw attention to itself—

it was meant to make other things stand out.

I must have gotten too used to that.

I pulled my hands from my pockets, opening and closing my fists lightly on my knees.

My fingertips were subtly cold.

“You should be the one shining, but you’re just reflecting something else.”

Wasn’t light, by nature, meant to illuminate something else?

Even if it wasn’t the sun, moonlight was beautiful enough.

…But I knew those words weren’t wrong.

Because that was how I had always lived.

Not just in how I handled lighting— but in my personality, too.

I had always been the one in the background, making others shine.

Not in the brightest spotlight, but in the place where the light could be seen best.

Slowly, I raised my hand and covered the moon.

Pale moonlight spilled faintly over my palm.

Even as I tried to block it, the light seeped through my fingers.

Creating light might not simply mean illuminating.

Maybe I, too, can shine.

In the distance, a streetlight flickered, pushing back the darkness.

That glow looked slightly different somehow.

I slowly exhaled.

I told myself I was okay.

No— I had to be okay.

At home, I wore the same face as always.

When Mom called me for dinner, when my sister tousled my hair and said, “You did your best,” I smiled as if nothing was wrong.

Like someone who was truly fine.

“Well, nothing’s easy from the start.”

“Next time, I’ll do better.”

“I’m satisfied enough.”

I lined up plausible words, forcing a calm expression.

Just smiling casually and repeating things like, “Next time, I’ll do better.”

But only after saying it did I realize—

Did I really believe that?

Did I truly, sincerely think I could do better next time?

I didn’t.

Even if there was a next time, I had already given my all this time.

And that “all” still wasn’t enough.

Saying I wasn’t disappointed would be a lie.

Yet I kept forcing a smile.

Pretending I was okay, acting like it didn’t matter.

Maybe I’d just gotten used to it.

I’d been like this since I was little.

Even when I wanted something, I rarely said so.

Giving up felt more familiar than hoping.

It was easier not to expect anything than to be disappointed.

So this time, too—

I convinced myself it was fine, that it would be fine.

But now, in this empty playground, in the quiet wind—

I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

I looked down at my hands.

Opened and closed them lightly.

The palms holding nothing felt strangely hollow.

Even while handling light, there was no light in my hands.

Suddenly, a childhood memory surfaced.

A winter night, the first time I reached out to catch a snowflake.

The moment that tiny flake landed on my palm, then melted at the slightest touch of warmth.

Back then, I’d thought the same thing.

“I wish it could’ve stayed just a little longer.”

And now, too—

Watching the light slip through my fingers, I thought the same.

“I wish it could’ve stayed just a little longer.”

But even if I clenched my fist, that feeling wouldn’t linger.

Just then—

A soft breeze blew.

The swing ropes creaked faintly.

And from the seat beside me, a familiar presence.

As I turned my head, I saw Kim Dohyun quietly sitting on the swing.

He didn’t say a word.

No typical words of comfort, no forced attempts to cheer me up.

He was just sitting there beside me.

I looked at him.

Kim Dohyun was staring at a distant streetlight.

In the quiet night, the sound of crickets filled the air, occasionally interrupted by the distant noise of passing cars.

And yet, strangely enough—

That was enough.

Even without saying it was okay, even without forcing words of comfort,

Just having him here like this—

I let out a breath.

The damp, heavy air felt a little softer as it filled my lungs.

“……”

I hesitated to speak, but it didn’t feel necessary.

At least for this moment, the quiet silence felt warmer.

Kim Dohyun slowly slipped his hand into his pocket.

He made a gesture as if searching for something.

Then, he pulled it out and stared at it for a long time.

His profile, illuminated by the streetlight, looked unusually solemn.

He flipped through the photos with careful fingers.

One by one, he turned them over, then paused, rubbing the corner of one with his fingertip— as if hesitating whether to hand it over.

Finally, he silently held them out.

I tilted my head in confusion as I took the photos.

And what I found inside were—

Countless images of me.

Me adjusting the stage lights.

Me carefully aligning the angles of the beams with a serious expression.

Me wiping sweat and drinking water under the stage.

Me catching my breath in a quiet corner, untouched by the spotlight after practice.

I blankly flipped through the photos.

All of them were taken when I was absorbed in my work.

I felt embarrassed.

Thud.

I set the photos down and grumbled.

“Hey, this is just sneaky photography.”

At that, Kim Dohyun smirked and shrugged.

“What? The teacher asked the photography club for help making an album for the club.”

“Oh, really?”

I scratched the tip of my nose, suddenly feeling awkward.

Even so, seeing these moments of myself felt strangely unfamiliar.

Me handling the lights, me in the midst of effort.

These were scenes I would’ve normally overlooked, yet here they were, preserved so vividly.

I quietly stared at the photos again.

But then, something occurred to me.

“Wait, why are you giving these to me?”

Kim Dohyun looked at me silently.

Then, with a nonchalant expression, he said—

“Consolation prize.”

With those words, he stood up from the swing.

I stared up at him, incredulous.

“……What?”

But at that moment, Kim Dohyun turned his back to me and muttered softly.

“You’ve worked hard enough.”

“Huh?”

Without thinking, I leaned toward him.

“W-what did you say?”

Then, the tips of Kim Do-hyun’s ears turned bright red.

He cleared his throat and abruptly turned his head away.

“……You’re the one who said it.”

At those words, I froze for a second.

Like a rapid rewind in my mind, a scene from the past flashed before me.

A rainy day.

A day without an umbrella.

The words I had spoken while sitting on a bench that day.

“Not that! Only when there’s a result can you say someone worked hard.”

“You’re dismissing their effort. It’s not like they didn’t try.”

“Isn’t that why there’s a wonderful consolation prize? ‘You’ve worked hard enough.’ Something like that, right?”

They were all things I had said.

But now, those words had come back to me.

Even though they were my own words, hearing them now made my chest tighten strangely.

I looked down at the photo.

I had definitely tried my best.

Even if the result wasn’t good, the effort didn’t just disappear.

And right in front of me was someone who acknowledged that.

I bit my lip hard.

My fingertips trembled slightly.

Yet, a corner of my heart felt warm.

Kim Dohyun, quietly watching me.

His silent consideration struck me deeply.

But even so…

Cringey was still cringey.

Covering my face with my hands, I let out a small groan.

“Ughhh… so embarrassing…!”

Kim Dohyun, who had been standing still beside me, turned his head slightly.

I peeked at him through my fingers.

…His usual expressionless face.

But.

The tips of his ears were faintly red.

His lips were pressed tightly together, his expression stiff.

And his shoulders were subtly tense.

It was painfully obvious he was trying hard not to show his embarrassment.

I clenched my lips to hold back a laugh.

This side of him— it’s the first time I’ve seen it.

Normally, he would’ve just brushed it off, but for some reason, today I felt like teasing him more.

Quietly, I picked up my phone.

On the screen was Kim Dohyun, still awkwardly standing there with his head turned.

Click.

The shutter sound lightly pierced the quiet night air.

“Hey!”

Kim Dohyun looked at me, startled.

I tilted my head innocently.

“Why?”

“You took a picture.”

“Yeah.”

Kim Dohyun pressed his lips together tightly.

Then he let out a breath, as if swallowing a sigh.

“…Delete it.”

“No?”

“Delete it.”

“Then let me take one more.”

I looked up at him playfully and raised my phone again.

“Come on, give me a V.”

Kim Dohyun stared at me as if he couldn’t believe it.

“……No.”

“Then I’ll keep taking them.”

I shook the screen teasingly.

After a brief hesitation, Kim Dohyun reluctantly raised one hand.

And quietly made a V pose.

Click.

I checked the photo and burst into a quiet laugh.

“Hey, you look so awkward.”

Kim Dohyun turned his head away.

“…Are we done?”

His voice was lower than usual, as if he was holding back embarrassment.

“We’re done.”

I held back a laugh as I looked at him.

His ears were bright red as he pretended not to care— it was oddly cute.

“Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.”

Even as I answered, I tried to hide the curl of my lips.

A strange flutter tickled the corner of my heart.

I set my phone down and looked up at Kim Dohyun.

Under the streetlight, his profile stood out clearly.

His lips were pressed tight, but his expression was subtly stiff.

His movements were slightly slower than usual.

His gaze kept avoiding mine.

I curled my lips up again.

My heart fluttered.

This moment, this atmosphere.

A gentle breeze brushed past.

Just then, Kim Dohyun glanced at me.

His eyes shimmered, catching the light.

I took a quiet breath.

My fingertips felt warm.

The summer night air seemed a little cozier.

And—

It felt like the space between us had grown just a little smaller.

On the way back home,

Kim Dohyun asked quietly,

“Is there really no chance of an additional acceptance?”

“Additional acceptance?”

“Sometimes the judges discuss after evaluations and accept a few more, right?”

“That’s just talk. And it’s not like I’d be one of them.”

Kim Dohyun hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, then closed his mouth again.

What on earth did he want to say?

Then,

Ring—

The sound of a phone call.

And just like that, I received the notification of my additional acceptance.