Became an Observer in Love Company

Performance is an art that directly conveys emotion.

It also involves facial acting like an actor, combining gestures and magic to create a story.

The performer becomes a part of the stage, communicating directly with the audience.

Tears, laughter, gestures, movements, magic—all visually expressing emotions so the audience can instantly understand.

The audience receives the emotions from the performer’s movements directly.

On the other hand, lighting art doesn’t show emotions directly.

Instead, it sets the mood and helps the audience interpret the emotions.

The same scene appears hopeful under warm golden lights, and lonely in cold blue light.

The light doesn’t directly explain the emotion.

Lighting gives clues.

For the audience to interpret the emotion.

If performance directly shows “I’m sad,”

then lighting art implies “There is some kind of sadness here” through hazy light and long shadows.

Interpretation is up to the audience.

While performance is an art where the actor directly communicates with the audience,

lighting art is an art that metaphorically and suggestively conveys through light and shadow.

If performance immediately moves the audience’s emotions,

lighting slowly seeps into those emotions like dye.

Kim Dohyun teased me again. I bit my lips slightly and murmured quietly.

“Bad guy.”

It was almost inaudible.

If you’re going to tease me, at least stay close.

Why do you keep running away?

He was more annoying than I thought.

And yet, the fact that he always ends up catching my attention made me even angrier.

I thought we were getting closer, but you’re pulling away again.

“Haa.”

I sighed softly and shook my head.

“I need to focus.”

I couldn’t keep rhythm and was clumsy in expressing emotions through body movements.

But lighting suited me.

Because even without direct movement, I could convey emotions through just one light.

I always pretend to be bright, but it’s all just a facade.

I hide my inner feelings carefully because I don’t want to reveal them.

The mask of a smile makes people shine.

Cheerful, carefree, and pretending to be dull.

Being dull so that it doesn’t hurt.

That’s why I liked lighting art that conveys through metaphor.

I moved across the dark stage and installed lights in various places.

Lantern-like orbs of light,

various shadows created by colliding with each other.

Changing the angle could alter the atmosphere,

and adjusting the color could evoke entirely different emotions.

I quietly closed my eyes and imagined the scene on the stage.

As if creating a painting or a sculpture.

Ultimately, lighting was also a way to convey stories,

just in a different way from performance.

I moved my hands like a brush.

The landscape in my heart reveals itself in reality.

It seemed everyone had gone home; the school was quiet.

The school in the day and the school now were in the same space, but it felt different. Alien.

I left my bag here by accident.

Somehow, the way home felt lighter today.

I quietly clicked my tongue and headed towards the gymnasium.

I just hoped the gym doors weren’t locked.

There was a faint light seeping from the crack of the closed gym door.

I quietly opened the door and went in.

As the stage lights went off, the surroundings sank into complete darkness.

In the silence, all my senses became suddenly acute.

I could vividly feel even the slightest tremble in the air.

Then, light quietly rose.

A faint glow tinged the stage.

There she was.

Blonde hair, pink eyes. It was Lee Jian.

A calm demeanor unlike her usual self.

She had practiced so much that she was drenched in sweat.

I had been deliberately avoiding her but didn’t expect to face her like this.

I quietly intended to grab my stuff and leave.

But—

For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage.

A black silhouette moved slowly under the gentle light.

Walking as if through the rain, holding an umbrella.

At that moment, small lights bloomed around her.

Starlight-like lights formed in the air, floated, and dissipated.

With every step, the light spread like ripples.

Fine lines of light traced from her fingertips.

Like meteors crossing the night sky, soft and fleeting.

At first, I was looking indifferently.

As if watching a subject through the camera.

But at some moment, I realized.

My gaze wasn’t lingering outside anymore.

This stage was a space where reality and fantasy intertwined.

Her steps, gestures, and gaze were making this space dreamlike.

When the umbrella tilted, a light beam as if real raindrops enveloped her.

As if real raindrops were brushing her shoulders.

Suddenly, a familiar scene came to mind.

The quiet sound of rain, the distance under one umbrella.

A distance I could almost touch but couldn’t.

Transparent light droplets dispersed.

Like rain.

But there were no raindrops piercing through the umbrella.

In the quiet silence, a familiar sensation touched my skin.

The floating glows around her.

Some followed her touch, while others quietly drifted in the air.

Slowly, but certainly.

The flow of light around her.

This isn’t simple lighting.

It was an emotion in itself.

A language of emotion that seemed to be trying to say something, but never fully articulated.

At that moment, the umbrella she was holding slowly unfolded.

And—

She disappeared.

The lights scattered, and she hid in the darkness.

Only the faintly fading resonance of light remained.

I stopped breathing for a moment staring at the space where she disappeared.

And slowly, the umbrella opened again.

Under it, she reappeared.

At that moment, the light expanded towards her again.

Like a star slowly rising through the fog.

She disappeared and reappeared.

That flow felt like breathing.

She was just moving, but everything on the stage followed her.

That simple action of hiding and revealing herself with the umbrella—

seemed like crossing the boundary between reality and fantasy.

The landscape she created, a watercolor painting drawn with the pigments of magic.

She was submerged in the hazy, blurred scenery.

It felt like she would get lost and submerge forever.

I haven’t seen this scene in the original work.

Probably changed due to the system’s ‘singularity.’

Every time I face these changes, anxiety follows.

That the flow is changing due to my interference.

That unpredictable events are happening because of that.

And what impact those might have on me is also unknown.

I was always struggling in that uncertainty.

But now,

The specialness of this moment covered my anxiety.

It hasn’t completely disappeared.

I know it still remains in a corner of my chest.

It’ll come back when this moment ends.

I’ll return to my normal place then.

But as I watched her standing on the stage now,

I felt it was okay to temporarily forget all that anxiety.

This scene in front of me,

This emotion,

Enveloped me.

Like an umbrella spread under the rain.

I’ll get wet sometime,

But for this moment, it’s fine.

I lifted the camera.

I wanted to capture this instant.

I wanted to hold onto this short moment.

I looked at her through the lens.

A silhouette among the lights.

There, she existed so vividly.

I gripped the camera tightly, not wanting to forget this moment, this emotion.

Knowing this moment would end,

Through the lens of the camera, I wanted to look a little longer, a little deeper.

Snap.

The moment became eternal.

The gymnasium in the dark enveloped me.

The dim light of the emergency light on the ceiling cast faint shadows on the floor.

I stood still, closing and opening my eyes.

Only the quiet breathing was left in this space.

The silence after all practices ended and everyone left.

The slight chill as hot sweat cooled down on this cold night.

The cool sensation seeped in as sweat-soaked clothes dried.

I exhaled slowly.

Still, a tightness remained in my chest.

Today too—

I received the same criticism again.

“Your impression is too vague.”

“Overall, it’s blurry. It might get lost among other more intense stages.”

“Calm, that isn’t necessarily bad, but… kind of ambiguous.”

If it were a technical issue, it would have been better.

This was a problem of sensation.

No one could explain how to fix it, and it wasn’t clear how to change.

It wasn’t about simple movement adjustments; it was the ‘feeling’ I needed to create.

Every time I hit the same wall, receive the same criticism, and feel the same frustration.

Was this truly the right path for me?

Maybe my choice of light art was forced.

Because I was too insufficient.

My movements were always clumsy, and I was awkward at expressing emotions.

Then, what about lighting?

Because lighting doesn’t directly reveal my emotions.

Adjusting light and color was relatively familiar.

“Isn’t that not true?”

The rebuttal came naturally.

I was always like this. Dishonest, telling only lies.

“Just plain jealousy, wasn’t it?”

Because I wanted to shine like Na Ryul Senior.

Wanted to be the protagonist, not the supporting actor.

Wanted to be the sun, not the moon.

Wanted someone to look at me.

That’s why I chose this.

But—

Was it wrong?

Everything has its own place and role.

Then where is my place?

My gaze unconsciously moved to the back of the stage.

I slowly clenched my hand.

Tight enough to pierce the palm.

I firmly bit my lips.

I didn’t even feel the pain.

Do I really have the qualifications to stand on this stage?

Being criticized for a sensory problem means the performance I created didn’t evoke any feelings in the audience.

I feared that most.

Even using light, creating colors, tuning, and adjusting, it didn’t convey.

I was anxious.

Was the path I chose truly correct?

If I continue to leave ambiguous impressions, I’ll end up as ‘featureless lighting.’

Because in light art, without emotions, it’s just a background.

I didn’t want to be just the background.

At that thought, my chest tightened further.

I couldn’t unclench my fist and looked around the gymnasium.

I stood, trembling my fingertips.

The dimmed gymnasium quietly enveloped me.

The space felt like an enormous mouth, ready to swallow me.

The deeper the silence, the deeper my anxiety grew.

I have to get better. I have to be more perfect. I have to improve.

Otherwise—

I can’t survive on this stage.

I quietly closed my eyes.

Then,

I noticed something on the bench in a corner of the gymnasium.

A small can.

I walked over absentmindedly.

I picked it up in my hand.

Barley soda.

I dumbly looked down at the can.

No name.

No memo.

But I didn’t need confirmation to know.

Who left it behind.

I smiled faintly.

As always, the taciturn way.

Unnoticeably, seemingly by accident.

I quietly opened the can.

Though I had to shine alone on the stage, there was someone watching me offstage like this.

Tock.

The sound of carbonation erupted quietly through the silent gymnasium.

Fine bubbles quietly moved inside the can, bursting.

I brought the can to my lips. The cold metal lightly touched my lips.

And slowly—one sip.

The familiar bittersweet taste spread in my mouth.

At the same time, the slightly sweet aftertaste gently flowed down my throat.

As if swallowing encouragement.

“… Is this how it feels?”

Just a simple can of soda.

But the taste wasn’t just about quenching thirst,

It felt like filling up my heart.

One sip, and another sip.

As I tilted the can, the fine carbonation bubbles burst quietly,

And the anxiety within me also shattered minutely.

When the cold carbonation touched my tongue, something small inside me popped.

Very small, yet certainly existing.

I finally understood that it was support.

I looked down at the can and smiled faintly.

“One plus one discount… What for…”

It was absurd. Does he think I’m really stupid?

“If he thinks that, why does he always have only one in his hand?”

---