Chapter 1 — Late Night Frequency
Han Jiyun loved the sound of his own voice.
Not in a narcissistic way — at least, that's what he told himself — but in the way a musician loves their instrument. His voice was his playground, his toy, his paintbrush. He could stretch it low and warm, lift it bright and teasing, soften it into something that made people lean closer to their speakers.
Which was exactly why, at twenty-seven, he ran three podcasts, one livestream show, and a late-night radio slot that paid barely enough to keep his tiny apartment above a noodle shop.
He didn't mind.
Some people collected shoes. Some people chased money. Jiyun collected frequencies, microphones, and listener hearts.
Tonight, he bounded into the radio station two minutes before his shift, coffee in one hand, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from a rushed shower.
"Mr. Star Host," the security guard teased as Jiyun swiped his ID.
