J.Y.H | Radio of Silence

                                    

                                          


-
From a young age, Kim Y/N was captivated by the world around her. While other children played games and chased after fleeting moments, Y/N was always drawn to the stories unfolding in her neighborhood. She carried a small notebook wherever she went, scribbling down the details of anything that caught her eye—a stray dog wandering down the street, an elderly couple holding hands at the park, or the distant hum of an airplane slicing through the sky.
Her dream was clear: to become a journalist, someone who could tell the stories that mattered, someone who could give a voice to the unheard. Through school and university, Y/N pursued this dream with relentless determination. Her walls were lined with articles by her favorite journalists, and she often stayed up late into the night, practicing her craft by writing stories based on the day's events.
When she finally landed a job at a reputable broadcasting company, Y/N felt like she was on the brink of something great. The newsroom was a hive of activity, filled with the sharp scent of coffee and the hum of reporters clicking away on their keyboards. Y/N threw herself into her assignments, eager to prove herself. Her first major task came on a chilly evening when a severe car crash occurred just outside the city.
Y/N was tasked with gathering information for the story—interviewing witnesses, speaking with the police, and piecing together the details of what had happened. It was a chaotic scene, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles casting eerie shadows on the asphalt. Y/N worked quickly, her heart racing as she captured every detail.
Later that evening, when she returned to the office, one of her senior editors approached her. "Y/N," he said, "good work out there. How about you join us in the studio tonight? You can watch the broadcast and see how your work gets translated on air."
Y/N was thrilled by the offer. She had always been fascinated by radio journalism, by the way a voice could paint a picture without the need for visuals. She followed the editor into the studio, where the atmosphere was quiet and focused. 
That was when she first saw him.
-
The studio lights were dimmed, and the only sound was the gentle hum of equipment as the moderator prepared to go live. Y/N watched in awe as he adjusted his microphone and glanced over his notes. His presence was commanding, yet there was a calmness about him that put everyone at ease. 
As the broadcast began, Y/N listened intently. The moderator's voice was unlike anything she had ever heard—smooth, lyrical, with a warmth that drew listeners in. He spoke of the car crash with a blend of gravity and compassion, weaving the facts she had gathered into a narrative that was both informative and deeply human.
Y/N was mesmerized. She had always believed that the power of journalism lay in the words themselves, but now she realized that the way those words were delivered could make all the difference. This man had a gift, a way of making even the most tragic news feel personal and intimate.
After the broadcast ended, Y/N couldn't stop thinking about the moderator. Who was he? What was his name? She had never seen him around the office before. As she left the studio that night, she found herself wishing she could work with him again, to learn from him.
-
Over the next few weeks, Y/N kept an eye out for the mysterious moderator. She spotted him occasionally in the hallways, always moving with a quiet confidence. It wasn't until a few months later that she finally learned his name: Jeong Yunho. 
Yunho had been with the company for nearly three years, and his reputation as a skilled radio journalist was well-known among the staff. Y/N was eager to get to know him better, and when the opportunity came to collaborate on a few assignments, she didn't hesitate.