“Truly, it was a day when my luck was fierce.

Kim Deok-soon rummaged through the closet, grumbling.

It had been a day full of the strangest things.

“Of all things, they’re raising the rent again.”

She flung a thick blanket to the floor and cursed the shop owner who’d threatened to hike the diner’s rent soon.

“Just eat what they give you already.”

She tapped her aching back and cursed the troublemaker who’d demanded she re-cook the soybean stew five times because it wasn’t seasoned to their taste.

“Since when do they think they own the temple?”

Spotting the radio shoved behind where the blanket had been, she remembered the frequently visited temple office staff and fumed.

She’d gone there to pray for her grandson’s success—and lately the offerings had dwindled and their attitude turned unfriendly.

All of that had happened today alone.

Some days are like that.

Whenever you feel cursed, everything goes wrong all day long.

Her stubborn mouth formed a line.

‘I’ll just have to take his bad luck myself.’

If her grandson were here, he’d call it nonsense superstition, but Kim Deok-soon meant it sincerely.

Whenever something bad happened, she believed she absorbed the misfortune in his place.

That’s why she swallowed her anger quickly.

Whenever her own luck was bad, something good happened to her grandson.

When Woo-ju topped that whatever chart for the first time, she’d been ecstatic.

And when he’d said the name of that strange bread as his award speech on a music show.

She’d even dropped eggs that morning by accident.

So today must hold something good as well.

She nodded to herself: good things come of good things. Then she peered into the closet.

“...”

The old radio sat in a corner, but she hesitated to reach for it.

Not because she was short or couldn’t reach.

Because of who it belonged to.

‘My daughter, Myeong-eun, cherished this so.’

The radio had belonged to her daughter before she married. Taking out something her daughter had used made her chest tighten.

Maybe she should just install that app Woo-ju told her about on her phone.

But she was completely unfamiliar with smartphones, so in the end she decided to pull out the radio.

“Ugh, look at all this dust.”

She wiped it clean with a wet wipe, plugged it in, and nervously pressed power.

It crackled slightly but worked fine despite its age.

She tuned the frequency and heard a cool voice.

“-Did you have a good day today? Then let’s begin Jang Sa-won’s Wonderful Night!”

A familiar voice.

The young woman who’d been on air with her grandson for a whole ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) month.

She’d looked fierce in person, but her grandson said she was kind and a great senior.

‘Still an hour until they come on.’

She’d heard they were sharing the show with other singers.

She figured they weren’t bad people, but shook her head.

She didn’t know for certain—he never said.

Back in elementary school, some crazy kid jealous of her popular grandson had provoked him, even taunting that he had no mother or father.

When they’d fought over it and the other kid’s parents came to the school in an uproar, her grandson had stayed silent.

Even at that young age, he didn’t want to worry his grandmother.

Now that he was grown, how much more must he want to protect her?

Her heart ached thinking of him.

The entertainment world was dirty and mean—how tough it must be for a child just starting out.

A parent’s worry never shows, but it’s always there.

“... Shouldn’t have tuned in so early.”

Her uneasy heart made her get up.

It went without saying that whatever Woo-ju’s philosophy of “work when your mind wanders” was, she had inherited it.

She swept the room again, mopped, and fed the stray cat that’d been lounging around lately.

After staying busy for a bit, finally it was nine o’clock.

She turned off the fan, sat in front of the radio, and waited for her grandson’s voice.

“-Hello! We are New Black!”

The energetic greeting was met with applause.

“-I’m Woo-ju, the lead vocalist and leader of the group.”

“-I’m Ri-hyuk, the main vocalist.”

She heard their familiar voices one by one.

Then—

Through the open door crept something.

“Geez.”

The cat paused in the doorway.

“You miserable thing, you’re coming in again.”

She waved it away gruffly, but the cat, emboldened, swaggered in.

Its dirty paws left marks on the freshly cleaned floor.

Just as she prepared to hurl curses to chase it out—

Meow.

It trotted over and flopped on its back, showing its belly, and she lost her timing.

She mouthed curses for several seconds before pointing at the radio with a stern expression.

“Because of this, I’ll overlook you today. Next time there won’t be any mercy. You and I have an agreement: you only come in today, do you understand?”

Meow.

Whether it understood or not, the cat meowed again, and she turned her attention back to the radio.

It was a simple broadcast, but for Kim Deok-soon it was pure healing.

How wonderful her grandson’s voice sounded over the radio.

Her fatigue from the day melted away.

She stroked the cat’s head and listened intently.

During the continued Part 3, she laughed without restraint.

She could only imagine the scenes in her head—like Ri-hyuk’s flushed expression, which she knew better than anyone.

Just thinking of her grandson’s awkward face made her laugh.

Then, when her grandson spoke before the live performance, her ears perked up.

“-I grew up in my grandmother’s arms ever since I was young...”

As he explained what memory inspired the song Night Sea, her eyes widened.

‘He made this song for me to hear?’

He kept telling her to listen, threatening to sulk if she didn’t—now she knew why.

She felt proud, and though no one was watching, she couldn’t help managing her expression.

‘He even made a song for me.’

But what came next in her grandson’s story made her smile.

Her old memories came alive.

She remembered laying him on her lap to lull him to sleep whenever he fussed at night.

‘He was so adorable when he was little.’

Just the thought made her grin.

Though he was a handful now, he’d been so cute then that every girl in the neighborhood would offer to walk him to school, calling, “Grandma, I’ll take Woo-ju to school!”

“-Before the ad break, would you like to say something to your grandmother?”

She swallowed hard, listening.

“-Oh, our Kim Deok-soon. I love you so much.”

Good grief.

She clenched her fists awkwardly, and the cat stared at her.

After a moment, she burst into laughter.

“-Since I wrote the song, please listen carefully... and, um, fighting to all the grandmothers across the country. Thank you for raising your grandchildren.”

She always had to make a fuss at the end.

Like that bread incident last time.

She laughed but felt a twinge of worry.

‘Now I hope he sings well.’

Because the earlier group did well.

Even though she didn’t much like the song, she could tell they were talented.

What if he performed worse than them?

But that worry vanished the moment Ri-hyuk began humming.

Anyone could tell how skilled he was.

If someone else did it, she’d say it sounded frivolous—but his humming was calm and pleasant.

It drew listeners in, bathing them in emotion.

When the thirty-second humming flew by like ten seconds, the song finally began.

‘That fireworks thing was noisy, but this is so soothing.’

Her grandson truly had many talents.

Just listening, she could see the imagery the song conveyed.

Crackle—

The sound of waves inserted at the opening tickled her ears.

She recalled the familiar scene: that summer night with stars overhead, door open to the yard, her grandson sleeping on her lap.

Whispering softly, he sang beside her:

“When I wander in long-ago memories

Rusty gate hinges softly sway

Leaving shoes neatly at the threshold

I see your waiting knees”

Until the end of his part, she stayed completely still, holding her breath.

Her heart felt warm and full of longing in every word.

It was as if he spoke: “I miss that time too.”

Her body felt flush with emotion.

All the day’s burdens had vanished.

Staring at the empty ceiling to cool her eyes,

Ri-hyuk began singing.

“When I tilt my head to the night sky

Everything becomes a trace

This star bears your scent

That star bears your touch”

His voice was as lovely as his humming.

On TV he seemed cold and sharp—but in song, his voice was so gentle.

She smiled.

If her grandson’s humming had carried longing, now his singing seemed to say:

“Thank you.”

Being on the same team, Ri-hyuk’s song warmed her like her own grandson’s.

Anyone might mistake it for two siblings singing to the same person.

Then her grandson took up the song again:

“Now the stars aren’t as lovely

Nor is darkness frightening to me”

As he sang of longing, Ri-hyuk’s voice, full of gratitude, washed over her:

“I still think of

The night sky we gazed upon

That night sea”

Entering the chorus, their two voices merged.

It became a harmony like one voice.

If songs had colors, she thought, the color streaming from the radio now must be breathtaking.

“That night sea

Your scent

That night sea

Your voice”

After the chorus, Woo-ju’s humming tickled her ears again.

She sniffed softly.

Looking down, she saw the round cat gazing up at her.

“Grandma’s not crying. Nari, you’re shaking your fur on me.”

Something warm nudged her leg.

As she recalled hugging her grandson long ago, her mind drifted to a soft echo.

Though the radio only played lyrics, she felt she could hear her grandson speak:

“Thank you. I miss you.”

She swallowed silently.

At her age, she didn’t know what to call these feelings—and perhaps never would.

Pride, compassion, gratitude, love—all tangled together.

Her eyes returned to the radio.

Even without seeing his face, his emotions came through vividly.

Unlike one-way TV, radio felt like two-way communication.

No wonder my daughter always lived with the radio on, she thought.

Her gaze drifted to the framed photo on the table.

A faded picture.

She smiled, stroking the photo of her daughter holding a bouquet.

‘My daughter grew up so well, Myeong-eun.’

With gentle guitar continuing, Kim Deok-soon looked out the window.

A moonlit night.

Truly, a song perfect for this late hour.

As someone in Gunsan wiped tears while listening,

the warm mood of “Night Sea” quietly stirred listeners’ hearts in the late hour.

A truck driver on the way to Gyeonggi Province tapped the steering wheel to the beat.

A commuter leaning on the subway handrail smiled.

A corner store owner listening to the guitar outside looked at the moon and considered visiting home for the holiday.

A student solving problems at home paused the song, took out their earphones, and went to find their parents watching TV in the living room.

Meanwhile, the DJ and staff watching Woo-ju and Ri-hyuk perform “Night Sea” wore gentle smiles.

Ri-hyuk plucked the final guitar string and ended the song.

Oh.

Her eyes felt gritty.

Fatigue washed over her suddenly.

Coming back to her senses, she realized she was still in the radio booth.

It’d been a long time since she was this absorbed in a song.

Feeling pleasantly relaxed, she met eyes with the main vocalist struggling beside her.

They exchanged smiles.

“You did well.”

“You did well.”

They didn’t need to say it aloud.

It was the first time since the debut showcase they’d been so in sync.

She wasn’t sure how the song would be received.

The A&R team said it was good, but she and Ri-hyuk were uncertain.

Listening to the same song hundreds of times over a week makes it hard to judge.

But at that moment, it didn’t matter.

She felt the same exhilaration as finishing a year-end evaluation, or succeeding in an unaccompanied live debut showcase.

That feeling of connection through song.

A priceless experience.

After exchanging glances with Ri-hyuk, she turned to the monitor.

“...Hmm?”

The chat was silent.

No comments were coming in, so she tilted her head in confusion.

Senior Jang Sa-won, about to react, frowned at the empty chat.

Then she noticed the staff beyond the glass.

Among their satisfied smiles, a middle-aged man sat in a chair and gave a thumbs-up.

As if praising them for a job well done.

They smiled and bowed.

But then the engineer reversed that thumb, pointing downward.

What?

Was it some new kind of diss?

Then they realized he was gesturing to look at the monitor.

And when she and Ri-hyuk did, their eyes went wide.

...Oh?

They realized why the chat had been silent.

It had been lagging.

A moment ago it was quiet—and now the comments exploded across the screen.