Pen and Paper Translations

T/N: BONUS chapter because Director Park… T_T

While continuing work on the drama’s OST, Hyunseung stepped out to the street to pick up a simple late-night snack.

“Should’ve just eaten lunch earlier.”

He soothed his empty stomach and scanned past the brim of his pulled-down cap for anything edible.

Then inside a clear vinyl-walled street tent bar, he spotted a very familiar silhouette.

Before he knew it, as if drawn by a spell, Hyunseung stepped into the tent.

As expected.

Just as he’d guessed, the owner of that familiar silhouette was Senior Managing Director Park.

Unlike usual, his rumpled clothes, mussed hair, and flushed cheeks said he was good and tipsy.

It was a first.

A man whose temper was so fierce—and at times downright cutting—sitting there like a prey animal full of openings, looking forlorn.

Hmmm?

Hyunseung couldn’t help being curious.

“What does a pea-sized brat like you know….”

Even his voice, always honed sharp, sounded today like a drunken whine, petulant and babyish.

In the end, he did have a mountain of work waiting.

“While we’re at it, pour a drink for the pea-sized brat.”

Resolute, Hyunseung planted himself in the seat across from him and held out a freshly set glass.

Park gave a small, incredulous snort at the sight of him, then silently filled the glass to the brim.

Thankfully…

He actually looked quietly pleased.

Clink!

Hyunseung wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with. He didn’t care for nightlife either.

He just wanted to mark the meaning of sharing a first drink with Senior Managing Director Park.

At first, he’d really disliked the man…

But the more he saw him, the more he felt Park bore the raw, original face of a human being and grew attached.

Right.

They say love includes love-hate. If so, he’d clearly formed a sturdy “hateful fondness.”

Given that the shadow of loneliness spread across Park’s face bothered him.

“Something happen?”

“What do you mean something.”

Park topped up Hyunseung’s emptied glass and added in a needling tone,

“Thanks to you hogging everything, Team 1’s got nothing to do, kid.”

“C’mon. I know you always hustle to check schedules early so you can time releases around mine.”

“This is why I hate quick-witted brats.”

He filled his own glass to the lip and knocked it back.

Man’s doing his big build justice.

Hyunseung lifted his glass, then set it back down. He’d just bragged he knew his liquor—he couldn’t get drunk.

Pace yourself.

He was thinking he’d humor Park’s mood, have a few, and head out—

When Park suddenly lobbed a weighty question.

“What do you think a man—no, a head of household—should be?”

A head of household…

In his past life and this one, he’d never married, never formed a “family” in that sense. But in another sense, he was one.

He’d had to take responsibility for a father with a disability who couldn’t hear, and a little sister.

“I think he has to bear heavy responsibility. It’s such a weighty, difficult position.”

“You’re right. It is weighty, difficult, and comes with crushing responsibility.”

Watching Park nod in affirmation of his answer, Hyunseung went on, voice fairly serious.

“Sounds like your shoulders are heavy with that role.”

“Huh? How’d you know I’m the head of a household?”

“Well, for one thing you’re asking this sort of question, and if I factor in your age, Senior Managing Director…”

“What, punk? I still get called a bachelor sometimes, you know.”

“You’ve got a pretty bad drinking habit.”

Stung, Park said, “Let’s not talk,” and kept refilling.

“Mm.”

Then Hyunseung jerked his chin at Park’s phone on the table and asked lightly,

“The kids on your phone wallpaper—that’s your children, right?”

Park turned to look at his phone.

“Ah. Yeah.”

Amid nonstop notifications, the lockscreen showed a photo of two kids grinning.

“My daughter and son. Born a year apart.”

Park scratched the back of his head, looking awkward—unaccustomed to showing anything personal.

“They look pretty young. About Dohee’s age?”

“Dohee?”

“Yeah, the younger sister of Kim Dojun among your ‘kids.’”

“Ah… back when that picture was taken, they were around that little one’s age.”

Hearing the answer slip into past tense, Hyunseung said nothing. He tipped back the drink left in his glass.

Then without being asked, Park quietly refilled his glass and continued.

“They’re both in elementary school now. They live in the U.S. with their mom, so… that photo’s the last one I took myself.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t gone even once in years?”

“I kept not being able to, because of work—and finally carved out time to go see them once. In the end I couldn’t meet them and came back.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you bungled the plane reservation or something clumsy like that.”

“Would I really have done that?”

Clicking his tongue, Park began to talk, steadily filling the glasses.

He’d quietly gone to the New Jersey address he’d taken out a loan to rent for them—through the big picture window, he said, he saw a happy family scene.

In his stead, a man he’d never seen before was playing the father, the husband.

He said there was nothing he could do but chain-smoke.

If his own kids rejected him as “Dad,” he felt everything would collapse right there, so he simply left.

He didn’t know what their mother had told them, but from about then on, the kids rarely reached out.

So in his memory, they were still about five.

He wasn’t the type to do surprise events, had never done one—and it had been a mistake trying to show up unannounced.

But what could he do…

He was the head of the household, wasn’t he? As a father, he had a duty to support his children, so he’d keep gritting his teeth and endure.

If people whispered behind his back that he was a villain, so be it.

Right.

As long as his kids ate well and grew up healthy, that was enough.

Truth is, he wished he could roll back time to before they left for America.

Maybe…

Even if he did, he’d make the same choice again…

On and on, pouring out his story with the liquor, until empty bottles were rolling across the table.

Quietly listening, Hyunseung just kept refilling Park’s glass whenever it emptied.

And then—

“That’s enough for tonight.”

He pushed away the glass Park held out for a refill.

Park’s eyelids were already loose and heavy; any more would be dangerous.

“Tch, fine.”

He looked a little regretful, but aware he’d overdone it, set his glass down without complaint.

“Can’t believe I told you all that. Let’s go.”

Embarrassed now, he grabbed his coat and stood up.

Stagger.

He felt his body tilt as if the world had twisted, but doing his best to look steady, Park walked over, paid, and finished up.

As they stepped out of the tent, he said to Hyunseung:

“Kid, stop holing up in your studio all the time. Go meet people.”

And with a crooked grin, he added:

“Keep that up and you’ll end up an outcast like me.”

Hyunseung thought his smile looked like winter.

So lonesome, so solitary…

Yes… like his own father’s smile.

---

After a light walk to sober up, Hyunseung went back to the studio and sat straight down at the work table.

“Whew….”

Each exhale carried a sweet-bitter trace of alcohol.

Right.

Not a pleasant scent.

Still… 

He thought liquor was, in its way, remarkable at stirring emotion.

He couldn’t forget the smile Park had shown him just before they parted.

“What kind of rock are you hauling around inside you?”

That line about villains having their own stories came to mind.

He pulled out his phone and played an audio file recorded that day.

— Me, you know…

Park’s voice, slurred by drink.

— My temper’s rotten, sure. But I understand the weight words carry. There’s a word I cherish to death. When it comes to that word, I’m a miser.

He didn’t know why he’d recorded it.

Just…

In that moment, it felt like he had to.

— What word?

Soon his own voice came, asking… and Park answered at once.

— “I love you.”

Said with a tone full of sincerity.

— Watching my daughter asleep, it just hit me. For this kid, I could die in her place. I could, without a second’s hesitation, die for her.

Plain-spoken, but searing.

— I think that was the first time I held my sleeping daughter and said I love you. That was it—that is love.

Beep.

The recording ended there.

Love…

Come to think of it, I did once love someone hot in the chest.

Only after letting her go did I guess that that formless feeling had been love.

He had no intention of forcing that connection anew.

But in this moment, he did wonder how she was living.

No, never mind.

That wasn’t the point; what kind of love was Park talking about?

A love so fierce you could stand bare to midwinter’s knife-edged wind?

For some reason, Hyunseung felt a desire to write a piece with Park as the motif. He replayed the recording.

Once, twice, three times…

He listened over and over, but no clear musical idea formed.

Was it because it was a feeling he couldn’t presume to grasp?

Daughter, love, dad, head of household, responsibility.

He jotted the keywords in a notebook, then—

“Sigh….”

For the first time in a while, he groaned over a tough problem.

Right.

It had to be the alcohol fogging his head.

Even so, he wasn’t going to give up on turning the inspiration from Park into music.

Even if he couldn’t make the winter season deadline, that was fine. He just really wanted to write it.

For now, he’d try again after sobering up.

Tatatatatat—

First, he’d finish the drama OST.

[Attachment Email Sent Successfully]

A pop-up over the browser said an email with attachments had been sent.

The recipient:

Ahn Jiho.