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Chapter 14 : The Second Magical Girl.
Bzz.
“Ah.”
I slapped off the vibrating alarm on my phone. 6 a.m. blinked back at me. Maybe it was because I’d pushed my body too hard the last few days, but everything hurt. The rooftop at school—no safety bar, free-fall into roller coaster—yeah, that had been brutal.
I stared at the dark window and pushed myself up. It was the weekend, no work today, but I had something to do early.
Make breakfast.
Wе̊ b n_оv̂ ě l̃ Е̄ ṅum̄a
My little sister cooked for us every day even though she was still a student. I figured I could at least handle it for one morning.
“Looks like we’ve got everything.”
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The kitchen was stocked. Basic stuff like tofu, eggs, and pork, plus fancier herbs—basil, thyme, arugula. Honestly, her pantry could put some cooking YouTubers to shame.
Which told me just how serious Hye-jin had been about cooking all this time.
This is kind of a lot of pressure.
It’s not like I’m hopeless in the kitchen. But my “experience” was a handful of quick dorm recipes. Matching my sister’s palate in her gleaming kitchen? That worried me.
E nu̇ṁ_ӑ
I pulled what I needed from the fridge: well-fermented kimchi, eggs, a can of tuna. Oil in the pan, chopped kimchi sizzling, tuna drained and tossed in. I scooped out fluffy rice from the cooker and finished it off with beaten eggs.
A few more stirs—simple, fast, delicious kimchi fried rice.
“Think it’s okay?”
Taste test: definitely good. But it was just standard kimchi fried rice—nowhere near the level of the meals my sister usually made.
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“What are you doing back there?”
I was halfway to abandoning ship for toast when a familiar voice came from behind me.
E n̊u m а
“Ah, I just woke up early.”
Hye-jin stood there in white pajamas with a cute bear on them—totally at odds with her cool, sharp vibe. She paused like she was thinking, then came closer.
“You made this?”
“I was hungry. If rice is too heavy in the morning, you can make something else for yourself.”
“...You’re planning to eat all of that alone?”
Right. The amount in the pan was way more than a single serving. I’d assumed we’d eat together.
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“No helping it. Overeating in the morning’s bad for you, so I’ll help you finish it. Next time, portion better.”
She took two bowls out of the cupboard and started serving.
“You go sit. There’s leftover soup from yesterday. I’ll heat it.”
When I tried to help, she gently pushed me out of the kitchen. I let her, and ended up at the table like a kid who’d been sent away.
Leftover soup? I hadn’t seen any when I checked the fridge.
I peeked toward the kitchen. She was filling a pot with fresh water. From the ingredients she pulled out, she was clearly making egg drop soup from scratch.
Ë n̆ ü m̀а
She’s so bad at being honest.
A few minutes later she came over with steaming egg soup, and we ate. For the record, my fried rice got zero commentary—just disappeared into her mouth like it was perfectly normal. I’d hoped for at least a reaction. Disappointing.
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After that, it was the usual scene. I watched TV on the sofa. Hye-jin sat beside me, wordless, tapping away at a mobile game. I didn’t get why she chose the cramped sofa over the comfort of her room, but asking felt like a great way to get roasted, so I kept quiet.
“Since it’s the weekend, want to go somewhere today?”
“...What are you babbling about? Did you do something wrong to me?”
I’d actually worked up some courage to say that. Her suspicious stare knocked it flat.
Еn ů mа. і̂ d
This is hard.
I sighed inwardly.
Ten years as a teacher. I liked to think I could read a student’s thoughts from their eyes alone. Turns out that only applied at school. As a family member, a teenage girl felt like a whole different species.
Is this how most brothers and sisters are?
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Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. It was like being a first-time cat owner—reach out and you get indifference, and then they come over only when they feel like it. Try to touch them and they pull away.
I turned back to the TV. New shows, faces I didn’t recognize. So much for bonding over common interests; that trick wasn’t going to work.
Е.ňu mâ
What did she even like?
“Oh.”
Flipping channels without thinking, I landed on a familiar face—or rather, someone I actually knew.
[Soft and clean, anytime, anywhere—your First Love, The Cyta.]
On screen, a girl smiled sweetly with a soda can in her hand. She looked so young she could barely pass for a high schooler—in reality, she was a first-year in middle school, same grade as the protagonist.
Her name: Seol Ha-ran.
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Her job: singer. With her voice and looks, she was huge domestically. You couldn’t walk down a street without hearing her songs.
So I’m seeing her like this.
The ad cut to a talk show. A middle schooler holding a mic among adults—there was no way that wouldn’t feel off. They were promoting a concert about a week away. Biggest venue in the country, twenty thousand seats.
“Seol Ha-ran.”
Half leaning on my shoulder as she played on her phone, Hye-jin glanced up and muttered at the TV.
“You know her too?”
Е̇ ñu m̂а
“A little. You into her?”
“Maybe a little.”
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Truth? Not “a little.” A lot. Because Seol Ha-ran was supposed to be a key supporting character in 『Night Of School』—another magical girl, “Rania.”
“Supporting” didn’t really cover it. She was practically a co-lead, a senior magical girl who gave advice and pulled the protagonist back from the edge when things were hopeless. She was a crucial presence for the story going forward.
If possible, I wanted to meet her and ask why she hadn’t shown up to help that day.
…But realistically, how?
Ŵ ëbn̊ ȯ v̇ еl Е̌ n̂ ù m a
She was a top-tier celebrity. Even as a teacher, there was no way I’d get a one-on-one meeting.
At least getting to that concert would be something.
If I wanted to shove the main plot back on its rails, I had to get Seol Ha-ran and Unibel in the same place.
“If you need it, want mine? I got it from someone.”
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“What?”
“This.”
Ẃ.е̃b n o v̀ ӗl Е n̊ û m а̂
Hye-jin tapped around on her phone and held up a screen. A ticket for Seol Ha-ran’s upcoming concert.
***
Roars of excitement bled through the car windows. Fans, all there for her. Someone had definitely dumped her schedule online again.
“Too loud.”
Ha-ran covered both ears with her hands. The pounding in her head finally dulled.
Click.
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“Crazy, right? All these people just to see you.”
Her manager slid into the car and shut the door. Unlike sour-faced Ha-ran, he looked delighted—his artist being adored clearly satisfied him.
They pulled away. The crowd outside shrank into the night.
“Concert’s next week. How’s your condition?”
“The worst. Cancel it.”
Twenty thousand seats. Tens of billions of won in ticket revenue. Thousands of people involved. Even for the biggest agency in Korea, you didn’t just cancel that. And even if there were a legitimate emergency, a mere manager didn’t get to decide.
È num а.іd́
“I’ll call the CEO and try to get it canceled.”
And yet—the five-year industry vet behind the wheel nodded without a flicker of doubt.
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Ha-ran knew. If she left it like this, the concert really would be canceled. The refunds would be unprecedented, the company would stagger. It’d hit the news. The stock would nosedive.
“I’m kidding. Don’t worry about it.”
“Got it.”
His phone never even made it to his ear. He just moved his hand calmly back to the wheel. Less a person than a well-trained doll.
Е ńŭ mа́
They stopped at a red light.
“Looks like this one’s long.”
He muttered, sounding put out. Ha-ran ignored him and looked out the window.
A couple walking hand in hand. A family of four out to eat. Girls in school uniforms heading home from cram school.
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An emptiness opened in her chest.
Thousands posted in her fan café every day. Wherever she went, fans packed the space, cheering for her. But Ha-ran was lonely. That yawning lack inside her couldn’t be filled by people who only loved her from afar.
È ṅ uṁа́
Only a rare few in the world could fill her heart.
“By the way.”
“It’s been a while since you enrolled. Think you should finally show up to school?”
“Not going.”
School meant nothing to her. A place where she could graduate without attending once in three years—what was the point? It would just be a hassle.
Did the newbie go there, back then?
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She thought of a few days ago—Moongmoong’s blatant interference, when the mascot almost never touched magical girl matters. It had struck her as strange.
“Cancel everything after the concert. All of it.”
— What? Do you know how much there is after a concert? Fan meetings, next album prep—canceling everything is impossible.
“Okay. Sure.”
Not the answer she’d expected. The manager nodded again, easy as anything.
“Boring.”
E ñ u̇ m ǎ
Done with the view, Ha-ran glanced at her phone. Social media was packed with posts about how excited people were for the concert.
Maybe I should really cancel it.
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If all those exclamation points turned into question marks, at least that would be fun.
Her phone lit up with an incoming call. The name on the screen made a real smile bloom on her face—not the practiced one she’d shown hundreds of times as a celebrity, but the one she only wore when she was truly happy.
“Yes, sunbae.”
She answered with both hands on the phone, voice pitched a little brighter. Not even the agency head got that treatment. Watching her in the rearview mirror, the manager felt a twinge of curiosity—Who makes her act like that?—but decided it was her private life and focused on the road.
W̃ е b̂n̄ о v̀_éľ Е̇ ṅ ů mȧ
“Transfer a concert ticket? That’s a staff seat, so it’s usually non-transferable… Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll clear it with someone ahead of time. You can come, no problem.”
She kept talking as the car rolled on. Whoever it was, the manager was just an outsider to that conversation. All he could do was press his foot a little farther down on the accelerator.
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