My Yoomi or Boku no Yoomi is a collection of short stories (one-shots) that portray the emotional journey of Lee Yoo-mi through various roles, characters, and distinct storylines. Set against the vibrant corners of Seoul-from quaint cafés in Itaewon...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lee Yoo-mi as Jang Hee-soo
.
.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Uhm Tae-goo as Nam Ki-ha
.
.
.
.
.
That night, the sky was nearly shrouded in clouds, the city lights glimmering faintly below.
Jang Hee-soo stood at the center of the stage for her first solo concert, Echoes of Light, wearing a black leather jacket with silver accents—the signature uniform of her idol group, LUMINARY-BI.
The five-member girl group—Hee-soo (main vocalist), Kwon Ji-yeon (leader and dancer), Park Sul-hwa (rapper), Lee Eun-seo (visual), and Choi Ye-won (maknae)—was known for their bold concept and emotionally resonant songs that touched the heart.
Hee-soo's shoulder-length hair was tied high, swaying softly as the venue's air conditioning brushed through the indoor space. But her eyes, usually brimming with spirit, now seemed dim, searching for something amid the sea of cheering fans.
LUMINARY-BI had debuted three years ago, bringing a fresh breeze to the K-pop industry with songs like Silver Dawn, I Was Queen, and Rebel Heart. Hee-soo, with her distinctive alto voice and songwriting talent, became the center of attention.
But tonight, at her solo concert debut, she felt hollow. Among the thousands of faces shouting her name, one was missing—Nam Ki-ha, the loyal fan who'd supported her since her first day as an idol. Ki-ha had always been there at every fan meeting.
Ki-ha first caught Hee-soo's notice three years ago, at LUMINARY-BI's debut fan meeting. He always sat in the front row, wearing a black motorcycle jacket with a pin of Hee-soo's name on the sleeve, holding a handmade banner featuring the group's photo, crafted by his sturdy hands.
Hee-soo vividly remembered a letter he once gave her: "Your voice is like the wind at night—cool, yet comforting."
Since then, Ki-ha never missed an event—fan meetings, concerts, even exclusive autograph sessions at cafés. He'd arrive on his motorcycle, his dark blue helmet a familiar sight in the parking lot, becoming someone Hee-soo unconsciously looked forward to seeing.
Yet, for the past six months, Ki-ha had vanished. At first, Hee-soo thought he might be busy—perhaps working overtime or moving to another city. But as fan meeting after fan meeting passed without a trace of that black jacket, worry crept in.
"Lately, you haven't been seen around here, and I'm starting to worry," she murmured to herself, humming a new song she'd written, standing backstage with her microphone in hand, preparing for her performance.
The night breeze slipped through an open exit door at the end of the corridor, cold against her skin, but her heart felt even colder.
The concert began with a roar of cheers echoing through the venue. Hee-soo performed LUMINARY-BI's hits like Silver Dawn, I Was Queen, Overdrive, and her new solo track, Whispering Shadows.
The audience sang along, their silver lightsticks—the group's official color—swaying like stars. But in every pause, her eyes scanned for Ki-ha, hoping to spot him in the front row. He wasn't there.
The setlist neared its end, and the stage lights dimmed, leaving a soft spotlight on Hee-soo. She took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone, "Tonight, I'll sing a new song I've never performed before—this is its first time. I wrote it for someone who was always there for me. But now... he's not here. It's called Rider." The crowd cheered, but Hee-soo felt her throat tighten.
The piano began, and she sang the first verse with her eyes closed. "Lately, you haven't been seen around here, and I'm starting to worry..." Her voice carried raw emotion, recalling Ki-ha's bright smile—brighter than anyone's—as he listened to her songs at fan meetings, mini-concerts, or major shows. She pictured his motorcycle speeding through Seoul's nights, his blue helmet glinting under streetlights.
"You ride your bike through the wind, where are you heading off to? Is the sky there clear?" She opened her eyes as the chorus hit—"I miss you, Yes! I haven't forgotten you"—and tears welled up.
She'd written this song a month ago, after hearing grim news from a fansite: Ki-ha had died in a motorcycle accident six months earlier, at a curve near the City River. His bike skidded on a rainy night, and he didn't survive.
"In a park where no one's around, sitting on a bench, you kept listening to the songs I sang..." Hee-soo imagined Ki-ha in the small park near a fan meeting venue, where he'd often wait after events ended. Now, that park was empty, and Hee-soo felt like she'd lost an eternal friend.
After the concert ended, Hee-soo sat in the waiting room, still in her stage jacket. Her manager, Ms. Lee, entered with a somber face, carrying a small box. "Hee-soo, this is from Nam Ki-ha's older sibling. They asked me to give it to you after the concert," she said, handing it over.
Hee-soo opened it with trembling hands. Inside was the pin of her name that Ki-ha used to wear, slightly dented, and a short letter: "Thank you for being a light to Ki-ha. He always said your songs made him strong. Sorry he can't come anymore."
Beneath it lay a Polaroid from their last fan meeting, a 2-shot event photo of her and Ki-ha smiling widely, lightstick and banner in hand. Hee-soo brushed her fingers over it and let out a soft whimper.
Soon, quiet sobs broke free as she clutched the pin tightly. She stood on the venue's balcony, gazing at Seoul's dark night sky. The wind blew cold, carrying a faint whisper like her song.
"Call me with a louder voice..." she murmured, repeating a line from Rider. Ki-ha's fanchant shouts and Ki-ha himself wouldn't return, but his memory lived on—in every note, every cheer, and in Hee-soo's heart, the rider now gone forever.
