Pen and Paper Translations

Finally, he’s gone crazy.

Lee Rowoon thought.

Otherwise, there’s no way—

Ding!

[The heavens, moved by your earnest devotion, discern your sincerity!]

[Your fervent wish awakens a new divinity!]

Because there’s no way strange messages like these would appear otherwise.

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That day felt uncomfortable right from the start.

As if it was foretelling all the misfortunes that would follow.

It began with a message from his mother:

Rowoon, could you possibly send a little more this month?
Mom checked the bank account and realized your older brother’s academy fees are overdue.

It was odd.

He was pretty sure he’d told her last month that he was sending money in advance to cover this month too.

Your brother seems really determined this time. He swears he’ll pass the exam, so please help out just a bit more. It’s such a critical moment; I hope my son can understand.

He only had three hundred thousand won left.

That was the bare minimum he kept for his own living expenses.

He always sent all but the smallest amount needed to survive to his family.

With his father gone, and his mother in poor health forced to work from dawn, he figured it was better for him to endure hunger.

Even if it wore out his body, at least his mind felt more at ease.

…All right. Once I get paid for the track I’m working on, I’ll manage.

But these days, the manager was talking gloomily, which made Rowoon uneasy.

—Rowoon, you know how rough things have been at the company, right? You’re aware we went through a lot cleaning up after your group, yeah? We still haven’t recovered from that. Huh?

It had already been over a year since Garion—Rowoon’s group—collapsed.

Strictly speaking, it was more of a “forced hiatus,” but both Rowoon and the public knew the truth:

Garion had royally crashed and burned.

They had once been on the verge of rising to the top tier, but the downfall was so swift and hard that it was obvious there had to be a reason.

—The kids in your group caused all sorts of flashy scandals! Normally, you’d have been blacklisted from the industry—totally finished. But the company covered for you enough that at least you and Hobeom got out with minimal damage. If not, you might’ve been named as accomplices too. You should be grateful to the company, kid. They’re keeping you employed, letting you make money. How great is that, huh?

As the manager said, several members got into serious trouble.

Articles about idols landing on the social affairs page… that was a level of scandal few groups manage to top.

They called it a hiatus, but in reality, it was the end.

Once a scandal hits that big, it’s basically over.

—Anyway, you gotta be understanding about the company’s situation. Right? We’ve helped you out a lot. Without us, the songs you wrote would’ve just been buried. Who’d sing a song by an idol who’d been in scandals? Not to mention your voice is shot. Who’s going to listen if you tried to sing with that voice? Am I wrong?

The conclusion was that the company had done so much for Rowoon, so he should be considerate of their struggles as well.

…Well, the manager isn’t entirely wrong, Rowoon admitted to himself.

Unlike the youngest member, Hobeom—who boasted an elite college background, good looks, and solid acting skills, and was getting offers left and right—Rowoon really had no special talents left to rely on.

Thankfully, the company took pity on his circumstances and let him work as a composer. Otherwise, he might have ended up doing day labor at construction sites.

Or perhaps that would’ve been impossible too.

Who would hire someone with a bad knee?

Right. Who’d hire someone who never even properly finished high school? Like the manager says, the company’s doing me a favor.

So it was with the songs he composed.

They didn’t go out under his name, nor could he sing them himself.

It was only natural. Who would want to be associated with the music of a disgraced, scandal-ridden idol?

At least someone’s singing them, and somebody out there is listening. It’s better than having no one ever know they existed…

Making money doing what you love sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?
It surely must be a happy life.

…But even so, something lately felt a bit hollow.

Maybe I just feel empty because I skipped breakfast?

He’d been experiencing this strange void, like something was missing.
Yet, even on days he ate well, that emptiness haunted him at night, keeping him awake.

Let’s just finish the track. That’ll be progress.

After sending the money to his mother, Rowoon took out his usual notebook.

He’d always worked this way since before his debut.

Sure, he’d been curious about the fancy programs and equipment other composers used, but after all the talk about the company’s dire finances, he couldn’t very well indulge. Especially since he owed so much to them for keeping him fed at all.

Our son, thank you. Because of you, Mom can still breathe.

He ignored the message that lit up his phone and picked up his pen—only to be interrupted by another call.

[Cha Hobeom]

Rowoon froze at the sight of the caller’s name.

Cha Hobeom, the youngest member of Garion, was the only other member who’d come out unscathed. He barely kept in touch nowadays.

And now, out of the blue, he was calling. Strange things were indeed happening today.

“Hello?”

“Hyung, I’m leaving Garion.”

“…What?”

“I figured it was only polite to tell you directly first. I think it’s time to officially disband Garion.”

“Huh? Hang on, Hobeom, that’s kinda sudden…”

“What’s so sudden? We should’ve done this ages ago. We’ve been on hiatus for so long, and to be honest, we’ve been done for a while now. Disbanding is just the logical step.”

He went on to say the company was already on board, and they’d soon make an official announcement.

“Oh, and I’m switching agencies too.”

“You’re leaving the company? Is the president okay with that?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s not. What’s he gonna do? I’ve been stuck in this crappy contract for too long. But anyway, Hyung…”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You should leave too.”

“….”

“I don’t get why they’re clinging to you, but it can’t be for a good reason. Right?”

“No, they’ve really helped me a lot—”

“That’s nonsense. As soon as we got a bit of a following, they worked us like crazy, barely letting us sleep two hours a night. I even thought that was normal for all idols. Anyway, people like that don’t just help someone for nothing.”

Hobeom, sounding more riled up than usual, sighed heavily.

“Anyway, if you can, get out of there. And start going to a real hospital instead of that quack, okay? Companies out there would still be happy to have you, Hyung.”

With a few parting words that sounded almost like consolation, Hobeom said he had to go and ended the call.

Rowoon stood there, stunned.

“They’re disbanding…?”

If Hobeom was saying that, then it was already decided. The only thing left was to make it official.

Which meant Garion would formally vanish from the world.

Disband…

Not really surprising.

If anything, it was more unusual that they hadn’t done it sooner.

Why keep a group’s name alive when they can’t even promote?

Even so, just hearing that word struck Rowoon like a blow, his vision wavering.

And at that moment, he realized:

I haven’t been able to let go.

Not of some hope to restart group promotions, but the proof that he had once stood in that bright spotlight.

That final link to his shining past.

…I need some air.

Swallowing a sigh, Rowoon headed up the steep exterior stairs to the rooftop.

The old building the company had rented for him to use as both a dorm and a workspace was tiny—there was barely room for a single bed and desk. But it did come with a little rooftop annex and a small open terrace.

He stepped onto the rooftop, letting the cold, open air blow over him and calm his unsettled heart.

Right. There’s really no reason for me to be shaken. Disbanding doesn’t change anything. The group’s been dead for a while; this is just hammering the nails into the coffin.

Weirdly enough, that thought only made him feel more unsettled.

But it was the truth.

No fans would protest the disbandment, since they’d all abandoned the group long ago, after the never-ending scandals.

Only a few personal fans still occasionally asked about Hobeom, and even fewer bothered to remember Rowoon.

Another bit of bad news on an already uncomfortable day.

This thing is useless anyway.

Rowoon poked at a bowl of water set on one corner of the rooftop.
The surface had frozen solid, thanks to the cold weather.

It felt just like his own bottled-up heart, sealed tight.

I’ve been placing this water here as an offering, hoping things might get better, but all I got was the news that we’re disbanding.

That water bowl was supposed to be “purifying water,” a tradition from back when he was in his senior year of high school. His mother would fetch water from a small mountain spring at dawn and pray over it.

“If you keep praying with sincerity, your wish will definitely be granted,”

she used to say.

And indeed, that year, his older brother got accepted into a prestigious university—one of the best in the country.

That was perhaps the only time the family had truly been happy together.

So why am I ending up like this?

He’d been feeling strangely hollow lately, like there was a gaping hole somewhere inside him. So he’d gone up the hill again and again, bringing back water in the hopes that devotion might fill the void.

It seemed it wasn’t working.

“Phew…”

Everyone else was moving forward, leaving him behind.
He felt as though he were the only one stuck in the past, reliving the memories of those glory days.

But I have to let go of what needs letting go.

This too shall pass.

Though he had a strong premonition that he’d remember this strange day for a long time.

Regardless, nothing would actually change, and Rowoon still had to keep living.

He had to send money home next month, too.

…Might as well head back down and finish my work. Gotta earn a living.

The cold wind on the rooftop was so sharp that it made his knees ache almost instantly.

He’d have to save as much as possible on the heating bill this month, so getting sick would be bad.

Rowoon, having made up his mind, picked up the bowl and was about to head down the stairs when—

“Whoa?”

—he uttered the magic word dreaded in every industry: “Uh-oh.”
His body lurched violently.

His knee, the one that had given him trouble ever since his injury, suddenly gave out.

On another day, he might have regained his balance quickly, but—

“W-whoa… Wait—!”

He slipped on the steep stairs.

And it was freezing cold—cold enough that even water froze over.

Thud!

Something struck his shin, and then he felt weightlessness.

He instinctively clutched the bowl, and then a blunt impact slammed into his entire body.

Right then, he realized:

Am I… dying?

A day that had been unsettling at best was ending in the worst way.

Am I actually going to die like this?

He’d gone through so much yet never once truly wanted to die.

He’d fought to survive.

And now, the end was literally one misstep.

His fading vision caught sight of red liquid spreading.

The shattered bowl and chunks of ice lay next to it.

It was absurd, but it certainly looked like his life would end here.

Ah. So this is it.

People say your life flashes before your eyes at the end.

In that moment, Rowoon finally understood something:

I really didn’t want to go on living like this.

He suddenly knew why he kept feeling so empty—why no amount of food ever seemed to fill that void, and why he was so fixated on memories of the past.

In the face of death, it became obvious:

He didn’t want to live the way he had been living!

With my own voice, my own songs, on stage—

—not under someone else’s name or as a stand-in, but as Lee Rowoon, truly myself, receiving genuine applause and affection for no other reason than who I was.

I want to experience that love once more…

Labels like “failed idol,” his lack of formal education, and his battered body had all become chains holding him back.

But, facing death, he saw that they were only excuses.

If only I had one more chance…

He wouldn’t live like this again.

He’d stand in that shining spot once more, to feel that fervent support, that love, and those cheers—

I swear I will…

He wanted it so desperately.

But now, it was too late for regrets.

Darkness closed in.

He was sure he was dying—

—until:

“Oh my goodness, Rowoon! You’re awake? Thank heavens!”

…he lived?

More confusing still:

Who is this person? I’ve never seen them before…

Some stranger was holding him, weeping like their heart was breaking.

That was already strange enough, but there was something even more bewildering.

[You’re finally awake!]

A translucent bubble-like shape was floating in midair, greeting him.

It was even glowing and flitting around him, until it finally spoke:

[So, how do you like that body?]

…Excuse me?

What did it just say?

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