Chapter Text
The small café tucked inside Gallery Sori still carried the ghost of the late afternoon rush, warm espresso grounds blooming in the air, threaded with the sweet, creamy hush of french vanilla syrup. The scent overlapping with the faint mineral coolness of polished concrete and old varnished frames.
Seulgi moved slowly beneath the muted glow of the stained glass windows, where fractured panes of amber and cobalt spilled diluted hues across the tabletops. She wiped down the last table in long, deliberate strokes, the damp cloth gentle against the wood, gathering the thin stickiness left by melted sugar and cooling cups.
Outside the clean angular walls of the century modern gallery, the sky hung low and swollen with grey. Clouds pressing into the skyline of Seoul since early morning.
Byeongjin clattered a tub of dishes into the sink behind the counter.
“Man, that last round of tourists really had me debate quitting,” he muttered.
Seulgi glanced up briefly, then back down at the table’s edge, running her thumb along the seam to check for stickiness. There was none.
Their manager, Yeojin, emerged from the back room with a clipboard tucked to her chest. “We’re steady for tomorrow. Seol-Ah’s artist will have their new collection up for showing by this evening,” she continued. “Seulgi, she wants the post scheduled for seven, and she also texted me a caption adjustment.”
Yeojin hovered over Seulgi, phone in hand.
Seulgi nodded once. “I’ll adjust it.”
The gallery lights glowed warmly through the glass doors that connected the two spaces. Kim Seol-Ah stood beyond the opened doors, arms folded, eyeing the empty gallery space as it awaited the new collection with sharp precision as the other gallery employees began preparing the display stands.
Seulgi focused on her boss’s movements and expressions toward the workers through the glass. “The tone should be neutral,” Seol-Ah said without turning around. “Less sentimental. We’re presenting the artist, not telling their story for them.”
Seulgi made a mental note of that. Clean and minimal. Things she could use for her scheduled post on social media to promote the gallery.
Seol-Ah turned her attention to the cafe doors, Seulgi poked her head in. “Ms. Kim? How is the display coming along?”
“Seulgi, perception is everything, that’s all.” Seol-Ah replied, smoothing an invisible crease in her blazer.
Seulgi nodded at that, reaching for the phone in her back pocket as she began to draft up the post.
“Whatever that means,” Seulgi whispered to herself.
–
By closing time, the café settled into its familiar hush. Chairs were flipped onto tables. The espresso machine gave a final sigh of steam. Byeongjin dried his hands on a towel and flicked the lights near the pastry case.
“Are you heading straight home?” he asked.
Seulgi slipped her arms into her coat pockets. “Yeah, Yeojin said I was free to go after the tables were wiped.”
He gave a small nod, already turning away back toward the filtration machine.
The little bell above the door chimed softly as Seulgi stepped outside. The air bit at her cheeks immediately, sharp and metallic like. Winter had a way of making everything feel thinner, the sounds, the colors, even her breath. She stuffed her fists deeper into her pockets, resisting the urge to shiver. The snow crunched underneath her feet, leaving the softest imprints of her boots behind.
The walk home to her apartment was quick. It sat above a laundromat three blocks down from Gallery Sori, tucked away from the commotion of the main streets. The fluorescent lights inside hummed steadily, visible through the wide front windows. Rows of machines churned in synchronized rhythm, clothes tumbling in endless rotation. The warmth from inside barely reached the concrete stairwell that silently greeted her.
Upstairs, the darkened entrance to her apartment stood still.
She hung her coat near the door carefully, aligning it with her other outerwear. Seulgi’s space was modest yet tidy. Plain white walls, a small kitchen, a narrow old couch pushed against the window. Her beloved camera resting on the table beside a half finished ceramic bowl she’d meant to glaze ages ago.
She flipped on the tv before heading toward the fridge. The small plastic container of leftovers placed on the empty shelf within, ready to be brought back to life after a minute in the tiny microwave. The low humming and high pitched beep creating the only noise within the small apartment.
Seulgi’s food came out lukewarm, the center still cold after gently sinking her finger into the lump of day-old rice.
It didn’t bother her. She ate on the couch and flipped the channel to a comedic film she’d started the night before. This one was starring Yoo Jaeyi as the main lead, an actress that Seulgi frequently watched on screen.
The movie opened up with a nostalgic Dance Dance Revolution machine outside a seaside convenience store, Jaeyi’s character asserting her dominance over the interactive dance game while teasing her co-star, eyes sly and expressive.
Seulgi let out a quiet laugh as she scraped her chopsticks against the inner rim of her bowl. She began to bop her head at the dance scene taking place before her.
Her phone lay beside her. Unlit.
She finished Jaeyi’s dance scene as the opening credits rolled in, she reached for her phone, opened up the X app and scrolled up to the latest feed update.
Seulgi’s evenings were often filled with such mindless scrolling. She was about to close the app before a trending tag caught her eye:
“Yoo Jaeyi is more active on Bubble lately.”
Yoo Jaeyi. Bubble.
She paused.
She’d heard of it before in passing, an app about idols or actors being able to message their fans. It seemed too good to be true.She tapped on a thread, expanding it curiously. Screenshots were posted, plastered with heart emojis, people insisting that Jaeyi had noticed them and made them feel seen.
It took less than a minute for her to find the app on the app store, took even less time for her to create a login.
The subscription fee was small. Insignificant, really. She saw Jaeyi’s name as one of the suggested subscriptions, followed by a skateboard emoji. Jaeyi’s profile picture was beautiful, Seulgi recognized it from one of her brand collaboration photoshoots from that previous summer. Her long black hair held back by a bow, eyes sharp yet playful.
Seulgi’s attention shifted back to the tv, Jaeyi’s character was now getting into trouble over some high school centered plot. She smiled at the actress, showing off a different style and personality through this character than her other roles.
She hesitated only long enough to reread the price once.
Then she paid.
The interface opened into a message thread labeled with Jaeyi’s name, the same emoji as before and the profile image. The screen felt strangely intimate, like entering a private conversation.
A notification appeared almost immediately.
Jaeyi: Wow! Seulgi, I missed you! Let’s keep in touch :)
Seulgi’s breath caught. She took a second to comprehend the message, before rolling her eyes at the obviousness of the automated text. It made too much sense.
She stared at the message, not sure what to do with it, feeling a little dumb at her purchase. She wondered how this app exactly worked, what was its purpose besides feeding these greedy companies?
Did idols actually interact with their fans this way?
Then, a second message shortly followed.
Jaeyi: I just returned from a photoshoot, what did you have for dinner?
Seulgi eyes flew to the new message, was this one automated as well? It had to have been.
Still.
She typed back, fingers hovering before settling into something simple and honest.
Seulgi: Just had some leftover rice with steamed vegetables.
She waited.
The movie continued to play, dialogue and music blending into the background. She checked the screen again, nothing new.
She began to grow curious, her fingers typing into the Google search bar online.
“How does the Bubble app work?” “Can idols really see your messages?” “Do they reply individually?”
The answers were vague. Mixed and unspecified. Some people commented on an online forum that, yes, the idols can see and reply to your messages. Others laughed at the idea and explained that the idols are flooded with hundreds of messages the second their fans realize they are active, making it impossible for them to focus on one specific fan message.
Seulgi returned to the app.
Still nothing.
On impulse, she opened Jaeyi’s Instagram. The most recent post showed her at a luxury brand event, draped in something sleek and structured, surrounded by other actors and idols. In another photo, she smiled wide over an elaborate dinner table, crystal glasses catching warm golden light.
She looked happy, elegant and effortlessly beautiful.
Seulgi studied the image longer than she had meant to. Her own bowl of half eaten food sitting beside her on the couch, long forgotten about.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Jaeyi.
Her spine straightened instantly.
She read it twice before typing a response, smiling slightly at her own words. Her reply was small and measured.
She placed the phone face down on the couch cushion beside her, turning back toward the tv. Her mind lingered on the possibility of a reply from the very woman she was watching on the screen.
Then she reached for the phone only to flip it back over.
Nothing.
The movie finished without her noticing, credits rolling on.
The apartment felt darker now. The laundromat machines below rumbled faintly through the floorboards, steady and mechanical, like they always did.
Seulgi closed out of the Bubble app and checked her regular messages.
She sighed at the lack of updates, a wave of isolation rolling in. A text from her stepmom she read yesterday, one from Byeongjin from this morning texting the schedule, a confirmation code from signing up for Bubble a few hours ago.
It wasn’t much.
She returned to the other app before typing another message.
Seulgi: Jaeyi-ah, how did your photoshoot go? :)
Deleted it.
Typed a different message.
Seulgi: Yoo Jaeyi! How was your photoshoot today?
Paused.
Her reflection stared back at her in the darkened sections of her phone screen.
After a long moment, she whispered, barely audible even to herself,
“Goodnight, Jaeyi.”
She set her phone on her chest and closed her eyes, breathing in the slightest scent of dryer sheets from below and closed her eyes.
Her phone vibrated once more in the quiet.