Chapter 33: A Sensitive Middle School Girl
‘What is this?’
I had been feeling comfortable, but suddenly, my heart felt heavy.
I was someone who only looked ahead, someone who only ran toward the goal.
‘Wait, what was the goal I was supposed to reach right now?’
I could clearly see it.
I gazed at something scattered hazily in the distance.
Would I be happy if I reached that goal?
As I asked myself an unanswerable question and rubbed my eyes, moisture spread across my vision.
My sight grew even blurrier.
But something began to appear clearly.
It was an emotion that could not be conveyed through form.
The beginning.
The light I faced before I could even open my eyes.
The cry that burst out in an unfamiliar environment.
The moment when I had to learn how to breathe on my own.
The sound announcing that first beginning reached my ears.
That feeling was so precious and noble.
At some point, I began to sing along with the song.
Life itself was a wonderful thing.
I began to comfort myself.
My life had to have me at its center.
I began to cheer for myself.
My voice was cracked and messy, but I felt that if I did not sing now, there would never be another chance like this.
It was a song cheering for me.
The first of its kind in my life.
Comfort sent to oneself.
It was merely a very low murmur.
But even that was enough.
I was able to find myself.
Low notes, an easy melody, and a familiar rhythm.
It was a song anyone could easily follow.
The sound echoing through the heart of Gangnam began to color even those who had not seen the performance.
As the quiet, low voices gathered, they became a sound heavier than anything else and settled over the Gangnam Station area.
Even those walking busily on the other side.
Even those arranging products inside a cosmetics store.
Even the driver frowning at a red light on a congested road.
They turned their heads toward the emotion they felt.
As they listened, they could feel the emotions the performers were sharing.
Before they knew it, their own lips began to twitch.
The women chatting busily in a café.
The men discussing something.
Those who had raised their glasses after a toast at a company dinner.
In an instant, every conversation stopped.
They listened too.
It lasted for only a very short moment.
But silence fell over the vicinity of Gangnam Station.
Only a quiet, heavy resonance filled the air.
After creating that brief silence, the Squirrels’ final verse came to an end.
The Rabbit bowed his head.
Those who had not attended the performance but had felt the silence tilted their heads, wondering what had happened. Then they resumed their conversations, clinked their glasses, arranged their products, and stepped hard on their accelerators when the traffic light turned green.
However, they continued humming for a brief moment.
The melody that had just imprinted itself in their minds kept tickling their ears.
With his head bowed, Jinhyeok smiled inside the mask.
After feeling that wave of emotion, he could be certain.
If these emotions continued to gather, he would be able to wake her.
He could see the path.
Someday, he had to create music that would make her want to rise immediately and sing along.
It had to evoke an emotion so powerful that even someone standing at the threshold of death would have no choice but to look back.
He did not know what that emotion was yet.
But if he continued playing like this, he would discover it someday.
He raised his head with a bright smile and looked at those who were cheering for themselves and singing in their own voices.
‘They’re completely broken.’
He had broken the clocks of their lives.
Now it was time to turn those missing gears.
Since he had shown them what it felt like to break free, he now had to show them how to repair themselves.
He looked back at his friends, who were heated up and waiting.
He formed a chord and plucked the strings excitedly.
“Get up! Let’s wind up the clockwork.”
Into that empty space, he began placing a gear of their own, one whose speed they would be able to adjust in the future.
The remodeled clocks would be able to change gears whenever they needed to rest.
Drums joined the guitar, followed by the keyboard.
People’s eyes widened as the melody became clearer.
“Huh? This song?”
“Box-43?”
Anyone interested in music who listened to overseas artists would likely recognize it. It was the most talked-about track of recent days.
That “miracle song” rang out.
The setup was humble.
But to those gathered there, it felt even more incredible and fantastic than a performance by the most famous band in the world.
“Huh? What’s this?”
A slight commotion arose in one corner of the crowd, which had been swaying to the rhythm.
“Huh? It’s Tail!”
“Whoa! What?”
Tail had removed his mask.
He joined the performance with his sweet voice.
With Tail’s appearance, Gangnam Station, which was already filled with excitement, became even more stirred up.
The Animal Mask Band’s performance had been truly fantastic.
For those gathered there, the comfort they received today would remain with them for the rest of their lives.
But then Tail was added to it.
Humans were, in a way, sensitive to appearances.
The performance of the Animal Mask Band, whose identities remained unknown, had been fantastic enough. But once Tail appeared, the audience’s eyes naturally turned toward him.
“Huh? Jinhoon is here too!”
The man who had followed a little behind Tail waved his hand.
Jinhoon, the leader of Bitus, had once stood at the very forefront of the idol world.
He climbed onto the stage while scratching his head.
He also possessed singing ability second to none.
With a bright smile, he added his passionate voice.
It was “Miracle of Liverpool,” a song Tail and Jinhoon already knew.
They were not the sort of singers who could not immediately handle a song they had heard several times.
As their voices joined in, the people began to go wild.
The unamplified instruments had long since been buried beneath cheers, shouts, and sing-alongs.
The Animal Mask Band gradually moved toward the alley between the bank buildings.
They descended from the stage.
When they reached the entrance of the alley, someone shouted.
“Huh? Huh?”
“Over there…!”
The animals turned and ran.
People who were intensely curious about the identities behind the masks began moving after them.
The two police officers who had remained throughout the performance quickly blocked the entrance to the alley.
If that many people rushed into the narrow alley at once, injuries were certain to occur.
“It’s dangerous!”
“Don’t push!”
“Everyone, calm down!”
The two officers desperately held the people back.
But the two of them were not enough to calm the crowd once it had been ignited.
Just as they gritted their teeth and held the crowd back with their bodies, a voice rang out.
“Attention!”
Tail shouted from the stage in front of the bank where the Animal Mask Band had disappeared.
“Today, for the first time since my debut, I’m going to attempt a raw live performance with no accompaniment and no microphone.”
The people’s eyes widened and turned toward Tail.
This was a performance that could not be heard anywhere else.
They would be able to hear Tail’s completely unfiltered voice.
Those trembling with excitement held their breath.
By the time the murmuring subsided, Tail’s sweet voice began to flow.
Today, the area around Gangnam Station was indescribably incredible.
While singing, Tail looked toward the driveway where cars entered and exited behind the building.
When he saw a white Rolls-Royce pull out and enter the main road, the corners of his mouth curled upward.
At the sight of his smile, several women screamed, “Kyaa!”
In truth, Tail had thought that his disappearance would not last long.
Chunggi occasionally shared his innermost thoughts with Tail, the only person in the agency who did not care about the opinions of those higher up.
His life.
The music he wanted.
The pressure carried by the name “Changcheon.”
Tail had thought he was merely an immature troublemaker from a chaebol family.
But the more he heard, the more sympathy he felt for him.
A brief escape had been necessary.
That was why Tail had cheered him on at the Kingdom of Star that day.
Still, he had thought he would return soon.
Whether to the agency or to an overseas branch.
A cat raised entirely indoors might yearn for freedom, but it was bound to return once it became hungry.
However, after seeing their performance today, Tail had to change his mind.
Among the things he had heard from the vice president and passed along, there was one statement he had been most curious about but had never understood.
‘The “Genius” has returned.’
Who on earth had they been referring to?
Above all, was the existence called the “Genius” someone capable of making the Director run away?
Someone capable of making him turn his back even on Changcheon?
All of those questions had been answered here and now.
It had been such a fantastic performance.
Because Tail had also worked in music for a long time, he understood just how remarkable that humble performance had been.
They captivated a massive audience and shook their emotions without using a single electronic device.
It was on an entirely different level from merely inspiring someone through a song.
If only he could be part of a band like that.
He felt as though he could discard the title of “Korea’s Honey Vocals” and run away as well.
That was why he had removed his mask without realizing it and joined their performance.
Without proper sound equipment.
Completely live.
He decided he would hear the full story when they met.
He possessed the pride of a representative Korean ballad singer.
He had to melt the hearts of the audience gathered there.
For the first time since Tail’s debut, a top-tier concert completely unrelated to profit continued.
His longtime friend Jinhoon joined him as a guest singer.
“Is that it for today’s performance?”
“Yeah. It’s too late.”
The original plan had been to move to Apgujeong and hold one more performance.
But the performance in Gangnam had ended later than expected.
Although they might have regretted holding only one performance, everyone’s faces were flushed.
That was how thrilling the performance had been.
“Wow. Tail showing up there?”
“Seriously, I was wondering how we were going to get out.”
“Uh… the friend singing earlier was Tail?”
The corners of Jinhyeok’s mouth curled upward.
“He sang well.”
His friends looked at Jinhyeok in shock.
Of course, the Jinhyeok they knew was skilled enough to speak like that.
But still, how could he fail to recognize Tail, Korea’s representative ballad singer?
“Ah… do you, by any chance, have absolutely no knowledge of music from the past twenty-five years?”
“Yeah. Now that you mention it… that’s right.”
Jinhyeok smiled brightly.
Until the age of forty-three, Jinhyeok’s brain had been unable to process music itself.
Naturally, his knowledge of music from the past twenty-five years was nonexistent.
“Hmm. I suppose I should study a little.”
Jinhyeok spoke with excitement.
How had music developed since then, and how many other skilled artists like the man he had just met had appeared?
Merely thinking about it made his heart pound.
“Ah. Hey… Jinhyeok.”
“Yeah?”
Sangjeong, sitting in the passenger seat, checked Jinhyeok’s face through the rearview mirror.
“How are things between you and Eunseo lately?”
“Huh?”
“Are you two getting along?”
“Well…”
“Um… do you not talk to Eunseo much?”
“We do, reasonably. Why?”
“No, never mind. Let’s talk when we get there.”
Sangjeong bit his lip slightly and looked out the window.
When they arrived at the chicken shop, each of them sat down with a glass of beer.
“How was it today?”
When Seonha asked, the four middle-aged men gave her a thumbs-up.
“Ah. My mouth is itching to tell someone, but…”
“You can’t. Jangha has his own circumstances, and if those formidable hyungs discover that Chunggi is doing music again, he might be dragged away immediately.”
“I know. But some of the kids probably noticed, right? You guys turned the whole place upside down.”
“Noticed?”
“The kids who saw your performances in the past probably have a hunch. They’re probably staying quiet because they assume you have a reason.”
“Uh…”
Sangjeong looked back at his friends with worried eyes.
“You don’t have to worry. Everyone will keep quiet because they’ll be afraid you might disappear again if your identities are revealed.”
At Seonha’s words, Jinhyeok smiled brightly.
“Well, even if we get caught, we can simply deny it.”
Everyone shook their heads at their irresponsibly cheerful friend.
After each of them took a refreshing sip of beer, everyone’s eyes gathered on Sangjeong.
“So, what about Jinhyeok’s daughter?”
“Was it Eunseo? Is something wrong?”
“What? Eunseo? Why?”
As Jangha and Chunggi questioned Sangjeong, Seonha, who had been heading toward the kitchen, quickly turned her head as well.
“Ah… she said it was a secret…”
Jinhyeok narrowed his eyes and glared at Sangjeong.
Recently, Jinhyeok had barely managed to control his overprotectiveness toward his daughter.
But now, a secret his daughter had not even told her father had come out of Sangjeong’s mouth.
“Tell me right now.”
“Uh…”
Jinhyeok’s face was filled with emotions that were rarely seen on his usually confident expression.
Embarrassment, anxiety, and perhaps anger.
Sangjeong’s eyes widened.
The corners of his friends’ mouths curled upward.
Even that genius, who was perfect when it came to music, was bound to crumble before his daughter.
One burning gaze and three intensely curious gazes were directed at Sangjeong.
‘Ah… I shouldn’t have said anything.’
Sangjeong swallowed hard.
“So that’s how I found out.”
“An audition, huh…”
“Why haven’t you told her yet that you’re doing music again?”
At Sangjeong’s question, Jinhyeok narrowed his eyes.
“Well… daughters are a little difficult.”
“Huh?”
“I wish you would speak more clearly.”
Seonha, who was watching with interest, scolded Jinhyeok.
Jinhyeok tapped his forehead before speaking again.
“Uh… if I call to say I’ll be late, she gets annoyed and angry. If I don’t call, she gets upset and asks whether I’m not even worried about her. It’s… difficult.”
Jinhyeok spoke about Eunseo as though he were pondering the most challenging problem imaginable.
When the man who was always confident made such an awkward expression, the corners of his friends’ mouths rose even higher.
It was a face they rarely had the opportunity to see.
“Well, I was going to bring it up naturally by playing the guitar at home. But since she never talks about music in front of me, I can’t suddenly be the first one to bring it up…”
Suddenly, Seonha clapped her hands.
“I am absolutely against Jinhyeok teaching Eunseo directly.”
“I agree.”
“Me too!”
“Absolutely!”
Everyone nodded.
When it came to music, their friend was a “psycho.”
His daughter would be no exception.
No, it would probably be even worse.
Naturally, people placed high expectations on their own children. No parent was an exception.
Even Sangjeong.
When Seojun won a gold medal in the jumping front kick at a lower-grade elementary school taekwondo competition with only three participants, hadn’t Sangjeong dreamed of raising him to become a member of the national team?
In front of the shop.
[Celebrating a gold medal in the jumping front kick at the District Mayor’s Cup Dream Tree Taekwondo Competition. Congratulations.]
He had even hung up a banner.
That dream had collapsed when Seojun suddenly quit taekwondo in third grade and changed his career path to soccer.
Even now, whenever Seojun scored a single goal during a practice match, Sangjeong would get ahead of himself and call him the future “Son X-min.”
“You. Can you confidently promise that you won’t interfere with Eunseo’s music?”
“That’s… Uh…”
Jangha and Chunggi chuckled as they tried to hold back their laughter.
To think that such a confident man could look so troubled.
In some ways, the “genius” who had once seemed almost inhuman was ultimately just a father struggling with problems involving his daughter.
“Middle school girls are very delicate.”
“I know.”
“You may be delicate when it comes to music, but you are absolutely not delicate with words.”
“That’s…”
Jinhyeok tried to argue, but everyone nodded in agreement.
He could not continue.
“As a father raising a child myself, I can guarantee it. If you teach Eunseo the guitar yourself, your father-daughter relationship will fall apart immediately.”
Jinhyeok made a sulky expression.
Everyone knew how Jinhyeok approached music.
If he pushed Eunseo the way he had pushed them in the past, it was obvious what would happen.
Furthermore, Eunseo’s mother was absent.
They all knew about it, but they treated it as a taboo subject and never brought it up.
Since Jinhyeok never spoke about it directly, they had kept quiet as well.
If the relationship between Jinhyeok and his daughter drifted apart, the person best positioned to mediate between them was no longer there.
The old Jinhyeok had set an extremely high standard for his friends.
He would probably expect even more from his own daughter.
The genius they knew lost all sense of restraint when it came to music, regardless of whether the person involved was his daughter.
“Middle school girls are very sensitive.”
“Exactly. Say one wrong thing, and she’ll treat you like you’re invisible for an entire week.”
“Right. The moment music enters the picture, you forget the meaning of the word ‘consideration.’”
“The family will be destroyed.”
The friends who knew Jinhyeok best declared this with absolute certainty.
He had been like a dictator in the past.
‘Why can’t you do this? Why?’
Even after all those years, those words remained lodged in their ears.
He could do it because he was a genius.
Each of his friends shook his head.
Sangjeong stared directly into Jinhyeok’s eyes.
“Well, do you want to hear the songs?”
Jinhyeok nodded vigorously.
“Swear that you absolutely will not get directly involved.”
Jinhyeok’s pupils trembled.
Sangjeong struggled desperately to keep the corners of his mouth from rising.
At this moment, he was toying with Jinhyeok.
When would he ever get another chance to feel like this?
“I swear! I won’t interfere!”
Jinhyeok shouted.
The corners of Sangjeong’s mouth, which he had been struggling to control, finally rose.
There were two songs.
The students had given Sangjeong one cheerful song with a pop feel and one sorrowful rock ballad.
When both songs had finished, the expressions on the faces of the middle-aged men gathered in front of the laptop were difficult to define.
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