Chapter 4. Found It
“How long are you going to be stuck in the past?”
It was something Sang-jeong had said to Jin-hyeok just a month ago.
“Wake up and face reality, you idiot!”
No matter how pitiful his friend might have looked, those were words he never should have spoken.
“You think you’re the only one struggling? Seeing you like this keeps me awake at night, remembering the old days!”
As someone who’d been right there beside Jin-hyeok in his prime, Sang-jeong should have been more understanding.
“Just forget it already!”
If he himself had once possessed genius and then lost it all overnight…
Could he have gone on living an ordinary life?
Maybe—
The fact that Jin-hyeok was even still alive might be a miracle in its own right.
He was surviving tenaciously in a suit-and-tie world, a life that didn’t suit him at all. With no one else to confide in, he ended up calling on Sang-jeong, who lived nearby, whenever he needed a drinking buddy.
It was only natural he might vent to a friend.
He had nobody else but Sang-jeong to share such feelings with now.
But that night, they’d both had way too much to drink.
And Sang-jeong said what he never should have said.
Could he really expect Jin-hyeok not to dwell on the past?
Could anyone forget having once stood on a stage that every musician in Hongdae, regardless of genre, had dreamed of?
Could you just bury that brilliant moment when Japanese labels and a major Korean entertainment company were fighting over you, and then blend in with society as though nothing had happened?
Those memories of the intense emotions, the near-bursting heart on that dazzling stage alongside Jin-hyeok…
Sang-jeong still remembered the performances that only became possible thanks to Jin-hyeok.
They might be too faded to bring up even as bar talk now, but they were unforgettable. Even for the man who’d only stood behind Jin-hyeok, they were moments of indescribable brilliance.
And yet he’d told him to forget all that.
It was the first phone call since that day.
“What? What do you want?”
He responded curtly, contrary to the surge of emotions roiling inside, and he hated himself for it.
“Come to the store.”
The same friend who usually had to be dragged out was now saying he’d come of his own accord.
“Fine. See you soon.”
Gulp, gulp.
“Ahhh!”
Oh crap.
He realized he’d opened the cap on the beer that was supposed to be delivered.
Screw it.
Raising the open bottle to his lips, he let the cold draft beer flow straight down his throat.
The memories of his younger days that had suddenly welled up—he needed even this small act of rebellion to soothe himself.
When did time pass me by like this?
He closed his eyes against the faint buzz, and the smoky air of an underground club washed over him.
His heart pounded pointlessly at the rush of memory, and with a hollow laugh, he opened his eyes again to face reality.
I can just pick up another one at the convenience store…
Sang-jeong quickly got to his feet.
“What… W-what did you say?”
Clang, clang.
He dropped the plastic cup of beer he’d been holding. Thankfully, it was just a plastic cup.
“The moment everyone’s gathered, we’ll start rehearsing right away. So be ready.”
“Oh…uh…”
“I’ll crank out the sheet music soon. All I need to do is typeset it. I can send you one or two songs as early as tomorrow.”
“Oh… h-hey, honey! Sis!”
Crash.
He jumped up so fast he knocked the table askew, spilling the plate of spicy snail salad all over the floor.
Now there was a real mess.
The plate holding the snail salad was his wife’s favorite brand, in a delicate sky blue.
Sky-blue shards were rolling around, mixed with the snails on the floor.
“Hey! Are you out of your mind?”
His wife, Hong Seon-ha, had come over to pour him more beer and was now shouting angrily.
“No! Not me—Jin-hyeok!”
“What?”
She turned to look at Jin-hyeok.
When she saw his beaming smile, her eyes went round.
“Are you sick?”
“I’ve been sick until now.”
“Huh?”
“Now I’m better.”
“Wow. I’ve got chills.”
That arrogant grin she thought she’d never see again…
Forty-six-year-old Seon-ha felt her cheeks flush the way they did when she was a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old college kid.
Wow… nothing’s changed.
She hadn’t seen that face in 25 years, yet her heart was pounding.
Even from behind this counter, she felt transported back to a time when she’d chase after him every weekend on stage.
Blushing and unsure, she tried to stay composed.
Watching her, Sang-jeong just shook his head and took a swig of beer.
“Uh, Jin-hyeok… no offense, but… remember how we tried this in our late twenties?”
Jin-hyeok tapped his forehead lightly, recalling the memory.
There was a time they tried to revive the band in their late twenties because the drummer insisted so strongly.
It was right after the nun Jin-hyeok cherished the most had passed away, and they wanted to cheer him up with a reunion.
But it lasted less than a week before falling apart.
Jin-hyeok was the biggest reason it failed. After the first rehearsal, he disappeared and wouldn’t answer anyone’s calls.
He tried forcing himself, but:
No singing, no guitar, no sheet music—he couldn’t do anything.
He ended up overdosing on sleeping pills and being taken to the ER.
“Well… since it’s you suggesting this, I’m up for it, in theory…”
Should I say this?
Sang-jeong hesitated a moment.
We already know how it’ll end.
Recalling the suicide scare, a chill ran down his spine.
“You’re just going to see how messed up we are again, that’s all.”
He braced himself for Jin-hyeok to get angry, but…
Huh?
Jin-hyeok simply tapped on the table.
His tapping gradually picked up a rhythm, and each finger made a different sound, which grew brighter and more festive.
He tapped the beer bottle, then rapped on the table, then tapped a plastic cup.
Beer bottle, table, plastic cup—just three different tones forming a rhythm.
Sang-jeong’s heartbeat began to sync with it.
His hand resting on his thigh started to tap along, unconsciously.
As he tried finding a melody to match the beat—tapping an imaginary keyboard on his thigh—his mind conjured up a familiar tune.
Slowly, the rhythm decelerated, ending softly on the beer bottle.
When it ended, Sang-jeong stared blankly at Jin-hyeok.
His own fingers hovered in midair, no longer sure where to go, still craving that rhythm.
Jin-hyeok smiled.
“Let’s start right away.”
“Huh? Uh, yeah?”
“We’ll practice every day. We’re going to record an album. We’ll be super busy…”
Jin-hyeok glanced around the small chicken shop’s dining area.
“You won’t have time to run this place as well.”
At that moment,
Seon-ha came out from the kitchen.
“Hobbies are fine. Beyond that, no way.”
Startled, Sang-jeong looked at her.
She had missed the little “performance” on the table.
She didn’t know Jin-hyeok could play music again—but even if she did, it wouldn’t change what she’d said.
“Uh, right… yeah…”
Caught off guard, he scratched his head, and Jin-hyeok cocked his head.
“Hobby?”
He directed the question at her.
“Something you do only after you take care of your real job, and don’t cross any lines. Purely for fun. That’s it.”
Jin-hyeok’s brow furrowed.
“Is it possible to do music that way?”
“You’re really acting weird today. Are you even Jo Jin-hyeok?”
“Yes. The same Jo Jin-hyeok who lost his music for 25 years.”
“Right. Music doesn’t work for you anymore. You’ll just be miserable again…”
“I found it.”
“Huh?”
“I said, I found what I lost.”
“What…?”
Then Jin-hyeok began humming quietly.
A gentle, wordless tune with a sweet tone.
He tapped the table lightly with a pair of chopsticks, and her heart thumped at the sound.
There were no customers in the shop at the moment, yet it suddenly felt full.
She nearly turned to check if people were coming in.
Almost by reflex, she closed her eyes.
In an instant, the scene around her changed.
She smelled the spicy gochujang pork belly that used to tickle her nose.
She remembered the hum she’d heard at the after-party following one of their performances 25 years ago.
Everyone had held their breath, soaking in that intimate little show.
That memory of tangy, sweet, salty gochujang-slicked pork belly…
It all came back with the faint echo of the performance’s finale.
Opening her eyes, it was as if that smoky haze from the burnt meat filled her vision.
“Uh…”
“Well? What do you think?”
“W-we’ll talk it over first…”
“Do you have to discuss it?”
Jin-hyeok’s brow knit again.
Just then, the side door near the kitchen opened, and a little boy peeked in.
“Dad! Where’s my gummy worms?”
“Oh! Right!”
“You have to say hello to your uncle first.”
“Oh! Hello, Uncle Jin-hyeok!”
“Oh, hey there.”
Seeing the child, both Sang-jeong and Seon-ha snapped out of their recollections.
“Jin-hyeok, let us talk it over, okay?”
With a vigorous shake of his head, Sang-jeong addressed Jin-hyeok.
“…Sure.”
Was there really anything to discuss?
Didn’t they want to do music?
Now that he was back, shouldn’t they be eager for it?
What was the problem?
All of a sudden, Jin-hyeok felt a sharp jolt in his head.
Ouch!
It was as if the forty-three-year-old Jin-hyeok was smacking the back of the nineteen-year-old genius, flooding him with feelings.
Not just memories—middle-aged emotions.
A household.
A child.
Parents.
Money.
Future plans.
The shop’s rent.
An apartment mortgage.
Tuition for the kid’s private academy.
Retirement.
(T/N: Calm down, I just did my taxes, ughhh)
All these adult concerns poured out chaotically, leaving him disoriented.
Jin-hyeok nodded.
“I see.”
Then he smiled brightly at the couple.
“Hon, you saw it with your own eyes, right?”
“Yes, I did. Heard it, too.”
“I really want to try.”
“…Haaah.”
His wife sighed.
Normally at that sound, he would’ve looked away. But this time, Sang-jeong kept his gaze fixed on her.
After a moment of silence, she realized a simple sigh wouldn’t calm him down.
She had to confront the painful truth out loud.
“You know our rent’s tight as it is, right? If you quit helping, we’ll have to hire someone. Seo-jun’s always cooped up in the little side room because we can’t take proper care of him…”
In truth, she also felt a pang of longing.
If only they could return to that brilliant time…
But she met her husband’s eyes.
The wrinkles etched into his face, the dark spots from standing at the fryer every day.
Too much time had passed.
She couldn’t just tell him, “Go for it!” because the burden they shared was heavy.
“I still remember those days so vividly…”
“…”
“During every rehearsal, Jin-hyeok chewed me out. Then I’d hide in a corner and cry, and you’d bring me something to drink—remember? If you hadn’t done that, I would’ve bailed long before.”
“You did look pretty pathetic.”
“Then one day we were on stage, and suddenly I realized you—who normally had eyes only for Jin-hyeok—were looking at me. We made eye contact!”
“That day, I must’ve gone insane.”
“It made my heart pound. Something felt different when I played the keyboard.”
Seon-ha remembered that day.
She, too, felt oddly excited. It was a show unlike any other, unforgettable.
“My head was spinning, so my playing was all over the place.”
He took a swig of beer.
“We messed up royally, but Jin-hyeok’s guitar followed my keyboard instead of glaring at me or making a face the moment I screwed up. The others followed his lead, and they all matched my feelings!”
“…”
“That’s when I realized, this is what music can be.”
Without realizing, she nodded.
That performance had moved everyone’s hearts.
It gave them a fluttery feeling that made you want to grab someone—anyone—and confess your love.
“That day, eight couples formed right on the spot after the show.”
“We were one of ’em?”
He gazed into her eyes.
“After Jin-hyeok’s accident, and after I drifted through other bands before quitting, you told me we should move in together—said you’d support me so I could keep making music.”
“Shut it. That’s a cringe memory I’d like to erase.”
“Anyway…”
“Think about your age. You’re not those lively youths anymore. Why not just enjoy playing around? I’ll watch and cheer you on. But you can’t go all in, not when we’ve got more on the line. It’s not just us anymore.”
She looked over at their son asleep in the corner.
He’d gotten so excited learning his dad used to play keyboard, asked a million questions, and then nodded off.
“Hoo…”
She let out a small sigh.
And Sang-jeong bit his lower lip.
A second sigh.
He wanted to dig in his heels, but he understood reality all too well.
Music requires a huge investment of energy, even just as a hobby.
And if they reunited with members as proud as theirs, they’d inevitably start aiming higher.
Back then, none of them knew the meaning of halfway.
They had to be the best, no matter what.
If they were just thirty, maybe they could still believe in success.
But now they were forty-three.
It’s not like there were many rock bands making their debut at this age…
His heart screamed “No!” but logically, he understood his wife.
It was painful, but it felt too late.
He finally opened his mouth with difficulty.
“Guess I was being childish. I’ll just give it u—”
Seon-ha abruptly clapped her hands to cut him off.
“Six months, tops.”
“Huh?”
“If I cash out one savings plan, we can hire help for six months. Make your album, do whatever in that time. But if there’s no tangible outcome—no real proof that this can work—then you let it go.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“If you don’t let it go then, I’ll let you go.”
“Uh…”
He flinched at the menacing look in her eyes.
“And Jin-hyeok…”
“Yeah?”
“He’s… still really cool.”
“You know I’m your husband, right?”
“And you… were coolest when you stood next to him.”
“Let’s see how far these old guys can take it.”
“Thanks!”
She flashed him a teasing grin.
Truth be told, she might be the most excited one of all.
She used to be the vice-president of their fan club, after all. Her heart pounded thinking back on those times.
She glanced at the sleeping child in the corner. When had the years gone by?
“If you’re grateful, go take a shower.”
“Huh?”
“Go on.”
“O-oh, right!”
He darted off to the bathroom.
Jin-hyeok rode the subway with practiced ease, transferred to a bus, and headed home—where he was living now.
Memories and emotions of the forty-three-year-old version of himself swirled within him.
This was all so complicated.
A daughter?
Even Jin-hyeok, always so sure of himself, felt his steps grow heavier under the weight of these fresh thoughts and recollections.
His confident stride slowed with each step.
When he finally stood in front of a shabby-looking villa, he looked up at the second-floor window.
The light was still on.
For some reason, he found himself wishing he could go in only after that light went out.
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