[Heavenly voice.]
[This time it’s hip-hop? Is there any genre he cannot do?]
[The top session players in Korea unite, C2K’s project band is a super-band.]
[Another No. 1! Power that makes the passing years meaningless.]
Before reading articles, Jin-hyeok listened to every track his friend had put out, so he would have no prejudice. He lifted one corner of his mouth.
‘Now I know why he told me to read blogs.’
The articles were pure praise. There was not a single headline that was even slightly unfavorable. He dug through blogs, but entries about “C2K” were fewer than expected. A few titles with a negative nuance turned up, yet the posts had already been deleted.
At the very bottom, way down in obscure communities, he found a handful of threads and could figure out roughly what state his friend was in now.
‘Still living life with style.’
Jang-ha would handle the actual meeting.
‘Ah, I’m looking forward to it.’
Jin-hyeok leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes.
“Dad, I’m going to see a friend!”
“Huh? Uh… will you be late?”
“Mm… maybe a bit?”
He looked at his daughter as she put on her shoes. No wonder they had argued over skirt length.
“Uh… that outfit…”
“Ah, what? We agreed you wouldn’t touch this!”
“Uh… did we?”
“Here, look!”
Eun-seo yanked up the short skirt. Jin-hyeok flinched.
“See the safety shorts?”
“Ah…”
“Don’t worry, old-school man!”
She beamed and grabbed his hand.
“I’m off!”
“Yeah, be careful.”
The door closed; he opened the hand she had held.
‘So she does play guitar.’
For a girl, her fingertips felt thick. Calluses from blisters that had healed over. Jin-hyeok smiled.
Changcheon Group. A chaebol family that recently climbed into the upper tiers of the business world by expanding construction and retail.
An employee summoned to the office of Vice-President Kim Woo-hui, major shareholder of Changcheon Trading, stood with head bowed, unsure what to do.
“You couldn’t handle a single article, and let things get to this point?”
“Well… it didn’t mention him directly, so it didn’t trigger our monitoring.”
“Sigh… I know this looks petty even to me, but stopping this stuff is what you’re paid for, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“The article’s already pulled?”
“Yes.”
“Tell Marketing to review all ads placed with that media company.”
“Understood.”
“What kind of mess is this… Calling people out on a day off, sorry. You can go.”
When the subordinate left, Woo-hui glared at the report on the table.
[Musician C, Band J, Singer K. Project-band scams by big agencies. Can K-pop that aims for the global stage go on like this?]
“…with enough money you can push any song to No. 1… talented musicians lose chances to a chaebol’s hobby…”
┗C obviously means C2K, right?
┗Chaebol mention, so dead giveaway.
┗Is that old guy still doing this?
┗Poor kids cry.
┗…
“Good grief, oppa, isn’t it time to stop?” The youngest of three sons and one daughter, Woo-hui had always looked up to her kid-brother oppa more than the two much older brothers.
Born into a chaebol world, they had all endured cold-hearted training from childhood. Feelings allowed to ordinary people were forbidden to them. Despite appearances of having everything, daily life was suffocating.
She recalled when middle-school-age oppa had slipped a record onto the turntable that normally played only classical pieces. Thundering noise poured out.
‘This is rock.’
Back then elementary-age Woo-hui was shocked by his “rebellion.” High-school oppa would vault over tall walls at night, with his close-protection bodyguard in tow.
Later, Grandfather found out and raged. The siblings learned they could never escape the walls.
The bodyguard was replaced; surveillance tightened. Oppa sank into despair, even self-harmed and attempted suicide twice.
A suspicious syringe found in his room forced Grandfather to yield: oppa could do music until adulthood on condition he leave abroad the moment he came of age. Oppa’s face had shone that day. He had toppled the mighty grandfather.
That one year when he shone brightest still made her heart pound.
Then came the performance day.
‘Damn, how could this happen…’
Oppa was crushed again, drank daily, even tried things he shouldn’t. He was forced to the US but returned more twisted.
‘Doing it alone is fine.’
The family had abandoned him. No one left to stop him, no one left to worry for his future. Only after destroying himself did he find true freedom, and his second music life began.
Thinking this far, she took her hand from her eyes.
“You’ve done enough…”
Her lips trembled. She shoved the papers away and stood. Just then her phone rang.
“Huh?”
An unregistered number, but the last digits she knew very well. Why, of all times, this person?
Biting her lower lip, she picked up.
Jin-hyeok now felt the patience any father of a teenage daughter must bear. Past ten o’clock, one minute felt like an hour. He kept grabbing his phone, but the morning’s “old-school man!” echoed in his ears.
“What could a middle-schooler possibly be doing this late…”
He sensed his forty-three-year-old self-snickering. It was true. Nineteen-year-old Jin-hyeok had never felt such anxiety. He was always cool, always confident; the world revolved around him. Yet now time revolved around Eun-seo.
He anxiously looked out the living-room window.
“Oh?”
A tall youth with a guitar case was walking with her, both laughing brightly.
‘They must have been practicing…’
His tightly clenched heart melted. To avoid looking like a fussy dad, he hurried into his room and pretended to sleep.
Beep-beep-beep.
“Dad? Are you asleep?”
“Wow, your dad falls asleep while his daughter’s out this late? Not a call, no worry,” she muttered, heading to her room.
In the dark, his eyes popped open, face twisted in injustice.
After she went into her room and he clutched the blanket in frustration, familiar piano sounded. The étude only he knew.
“Ah, YouTube.”
He had viewed videos earlier while checking on his friend. A flood of information alien to nineteen-year-old Jin-hyeok.
“Wow, what an amazing world.”
He forgot his earlier grievance, excited, and closed his eyes. He heard the chaotic fury and the faint birdsong that soothed it.
“A mess, huh.”
Without her, that piano would have ended in chaos. He wanted to make an album soon.
Under her blanket, Eun-seo replayed the video she had watched countless times.
“Wow, really amazing.”
The official upload was on Shin Yu-jeong’s channel. Unlike the rough Instagram clip, this one had fine picture and clean sound. And the étude praised by keyboardist Hyeon-ho oppa… Eun-seo had never heard it before, yet its freedom reached her.
After the tidy étude, the latter half felt even stronger. She never tired of it. Though only seeing his back, the trembling shoulders full of emotion looked so cool. And the pianist who calmed that emotion down, Shin Yu-jeong, was awesome too.
She had already subscribed and watched other videos, but none was as shocking as this.
“Don’t read the comments,” the oppas had said. But when told not to, one does. She wanted to feel how many people praised this video.
Her expression twisted.
Shin Yu-jeong’s channel. In less than a day the upload passed 300,000 views, a week’s worth for her usual videos. Clearly the social teaser’s power was huge.
The problem was many new viewers had never heard of her. Naturally the comments got messy.
┗Wow, such obvious acting.
┗Imagine the rehearsal they must have done.
┗Heard there’s a concert plan?
┗Those shills begging for a show prove it.
┗Claiming they’d never met, what nerve.
┗Just admit, it’s staged.
┗The playing is great though.
┗My teacher says even he can’t play that.
┗Good but shameless fake.
“Sis… should we take the video down?”
Yu-jeong covered her face and sighed.
“This is driving me crazy. We can’t even sue.”
Gi-su thumped the mouse in frustration.
There were many fans defending, many moved by the playing, but spiteful comments scattered everywhere spoiled the mood.
“Maybe… remove the subtitle now?”
—“An unexpected gate-crasher.”
—“An impromptu duet with a pianist I met for the first time.”
Yu-jeong shook her head. Removing it now would be admitting fakery.
“Oh, sis!”
“What, what?”
“Look at this.”
┗I swear this guy’s real! He sang where I work just before playing piano, same back view, same location.
┗BS, total setup.
┗I’m telling you, he was drinking till just before that. True story.
┗Liar…
“Should we ask?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Offer a reward.”
“Got it.”
Gi-su sent a private reply.
“Dad, I’m leaving first! Have a good day at work!”
Eun-seo dashed off. Only then did Jin-hyeok, dazed, realize:
“Ah… I have to go to work.”
He checked the clock.
“Late already?”
His forty-three-year-old self seemed to scold him. Truth be told, nineteen-year-old Jin-hyeok didn’t consider this kind of tardiness a big deal, but he had promised to respect the diligent middle-aged family man.
He washed in a hurry and stood before the closet. Few clothes. He grabbed the chinos he’d worn yesterday, then reconsidered and looked at the suit.
“Hm…”
How much could he bend the rules? He pulled his tucked-in shirt out over the belt and stuffed the tie in his jacket pocket. Standing before the mirror, he smiled.
He had compromised enough to handle emergencies. A flood of corporate-life memories came rushing back.
“How… unbelievable.”
Leaving the apartment, his face twisted.
“Idiot.”
His forty-three-year-old self dumped a feeling of complaint on him, but wearing a suit was already a big concession for nineteen-year-old Jin-hyeok.
“I’ll take care of office life.”
Going to work was a bit annoying, yet in its own way he looked forward to it.
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