Page 42 of From Paris to Seoul

The door swung open, and Ye-bin practically bounced inside, her signature grin in place. “Oppa, annyeong! Got a sec?”

I smirked at her usual energy. “What’s up?”

She flopped onto my bed dramatically, arms stretched over her head. “Just wanted to tell you—we’re planning to visit Auntie soon, maybe next month! Mom and I are staying for a couple of days. You should come too.”

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her palm. “It’ll be fun! No cameras, no schedules, just fresh air and homemade food.”

I exhaled. “Tempting, but I’ve got the audition coming up. I have to prepare.”

She pouted. “Ugh, I know it’s not Paris… but still… you should come with us!” she teased. “One of these days, I’m dragging you out of this city whether you like it or not.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “We’ll see about that.”

She sat up abruptly, her face lighting up as if she’d just remembered something important. “Oh! I got a part-time job.”

I gave her a doubtful look. “Where?”

She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at me. “Rude. I’ll have you know I’m now officially employed at a bookstore.”

I caught the pillow and smirked. “Were they in their right mind when they hired you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Point is, I get to be around books all day, and I won’t have to mooch off my famous actor big brother forever.”

I snorted. “You never mooched off me, dummy.”

She drummed her fingers against the bedframe. “Still, I wanna start making my own money. Feels kind of nice, you know?”

I didn’t say anything, just looked at her for a second. This is Ye-bin—the same kid who used to beg me for extra ice cream money—talking about financial independence. Weird.

Instead of saying something sappy, I reached over and ruffled her hair roughly. “Well, don’t screw it up.”

She groaned, swatting my hand away. “Ugh, you’re the worst.” Then her eyes flickered to my bass. “Wait—were you playing just now?”

“Yeah, just messing around.”

She gasped dramatically. “Ooooh, is Oppa finally writing his first song?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Trying to.”

Ye-bin jumped to her feet and pressed down on a few random frets. “Well, don’t overthink it! Inspiration’s everywhere, you know?”

I groaned. “Not you too.”

She grinned. “What can I say? I spit wisdom. Anyway, don’t fry your brain over it.”

She skipped out of the room, humming some death-metal tune under her breath. I shook my head with a smirk. Ye-bin’s mind must be a terrifying place—like an Energizer Bunny trapped in a mosh pit.

I looked down at my bass, fingers itching to play again.

Maybe Ye-bin was right. Maybe I wasoverthinking things.

Taking a deep breath, I plucked the first note.

And this time, I let the music lead.

***

“Baekhyun-ssi, you’re up,” the assistant called.

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