No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode #13: Chaconne (3)

Someone once said, “No misfortune lasts forever.”

But Kim Bom wondered if that was truly the case.
It had been eight years since her mother passed away.
Would this misery ever end?

Click.

Kim Bom arrived home.

She turned on the lights in the dark living room, and the stark white glow revealed the spacious area.

New furniture and electronics filled the space, making the one empty corner stand out even more. It was as if the void represented the cracks in their family.

“So gloomy….”

She drank a glass of water in the kitchen before heading to her room.

Just then, she heard the sound of someone entering the door code.

Her father, Kim Sungsoo, stepped inside.

His face resembled hers, but his features were colder and sharper, made more severe by his rimless glasses.

“You’re back,” Bom said, giving him a slight nod before heading toward her room.

“Kim Bom,” Sungsoo called, stopping her.

“You were late for your lesson today.”

“Yes, I missed the subway.”

“Don’t be late again.”

He brushed past her and headed for the master bedroom.

This time, Bom spoke to his back.

“Doesn’t the house feel… different to you?”

Sungsoo frowned, glancing around.

“I don’t know.”

As he resumed walking, Bom said,

“The school’s annual concert is next week.”

“So?”

“I’ll be performing a solo. Could you come?”

“I’m busy with the hospital. Can’t you see I’ve only been home once in three days? I don’t have time for some trivial—”

“The piano.”

“What?”

“There’s no piano in the house anymore.”

Only then did Sungsoo notice the empty corner of the living room.

“…You’re right.”

“The only things Mom left in this house are me and my violin.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Please come to the concert.”

Sungsoo looked at Bom for a moment. His eyes fell on her tightly shut lips and trembling chin.

Finally, he nodded.

“Fine.”

He couldn’t help but recall it—that exact expression had been the last one his wife had worn in his memory.

****

Thud!

Seo Sooji smacked the conductor’s stand with her baton, and the sound echoed through the room.

The students immediately stopped playing and lowered their instruments.

“How many days until our concert? Who can tell me?”

No one answered, so I spoke up.

“Two days.”

“Exactly. Two days. And yet that section is still off? This isn’t even the original version—it’s simplified. Is it really that hard?”

“No.”

All eyes turned to me.

Why? I only answered because no one else did.

When I looked around, the others averted their eyes. I thought I heard a few muttered curses, but it must have been my imagination.

If it was quiet enough for me to ignore, it didn’t matter.

“You’re not telling me you didn’t practice at all, are you? Or are your fingers just not keeping up with your brain?”

Sooji sighed dramatically, clutching her head as she continued.

“Or maybe your brain isn’t keeping up with your eyes? Don’t tell me you still can’t read sheet music. Or is this your way of trying to kill me with stress?”

“Heh.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, which only drew everyone’s attention to me again.

“What’s so funny?” Sooji asked, her hair a mess from her own frustration.

“Ah, it’s just… it’d take quite a while to kill someone with stress. Never mind.”

I thought about an old joke one of my underlings used to make but decided not to share it.

“…….”

The other students were staring at me strangely.

“Pfft.”

From the front row, Kim Bom let out a stifled laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking as if she’d just heard the funniest joke.

She was always like this. Not long ago, she even said she liked my sense of humor.

Ridiculous. I’d never tried to be funny in my life.

“Ah~”

Sooji smirked slyly, her eyes on Bom.

“So, you two are like that, huh? Always hanging around each other.”

She clicked her tongue, raising her baton again.

“Let’s move on. I can’t blame our stars too much.”

With a tap of her baton on the stand, the students lifted their instruments again.

Following her lead, the group started playing the Movie OST Medley.

With only seven music majors among thirty-odd players, the performance was far from perfect.

But everyone, including me, understood—we weren’t at an arts high school.

Even this was something to be thankful for.

****

After practice ended, Sooji put down her baton and repeated what she said after every session.

“I know you’re all busy studying, but please take at least one day to practice on your own. Got it?”

“Yes!”

“And Seojoon, Bom—you haven’t forgotten you’re each performing a solo, right?”

“Yes.”

“Seojoon will play La Campanella. What about Bom?”

“I’ll play Bach’s Chaconne.”

****

After school, I headed to Junsoo’s house.

Unlike the school auditorium, which was inconvenient to share with multiple departments, this house provided the comfort of being used by only four people. That, coupled with the nostalgia of living here before, made it ideal.

Junsoo’s bright expressions were particularly reassuring.

But there was one thing that bothered me.

The sign hanging on the front door—sleek yet overly cutesy:

[BAEK & JEONG Studio.]

A combination of Junsoo’s surname, Baek, and mine, Jeong.
The intention was good, but the phrasing left much to be desired.

It brought back embarrassing memories from the past, but Junsoo liked it too much for me to take it down without a valid excuse.

“Where’s Bom?” I asked Junsoo.

“Hm? Wouldn’t you know better?”

“Why’s that?”

“Aren’t you two dating?”

“What nonsense is that?”

“Rumors, I guess… You two are always hanging out, so I thought it was true….”

“She’s just sociable, I suppose.”

“Bom? Sociable? Do you really think that?”

“Isn’t she?”

“Not at all. She’s never stuck to anyone like that. Since the start of high school, she’s been a self-declared outcast, and after fighting with the upperclassmen, everyone avoids her.”

“Hmm.”

The image of Kim Bom in my mind wasn’t exactly positive.

A girl who wrapped her delicate looks in expensive items and used sharp words and actions as a second layer of armor.

People like that always hid something—be it wounds or thorns.

On top of that, Bom once led me into a trap with delinquent students, so it was impossible for me to see her in a favorable light.

“She’s here!”

The front door burst open, and Choo Minji walked in, arms full of bags.

Her face was playful as usual, but I couldn’t figure out what mischief she was up to this time.

I moved to help her.

“Let me—”

“Yap!”

She jabbed a finger toward my side, but I reflexively grabbed her wrist.

“What are you doing?”

Minji gave me a sly look as she stood there with her wrist in my grip.

“Are you really dating Bom?”

“Ha…”

I sighed and let go of her wrist.

“Or maybe you’re just flirting?”

“Flirting? That’s ridiculous.”

Minji clicked her tongue and continued,

“I’m against it. Bom’s too feisty.”

“For the last time, that’s not happening—”

“Shh.”

Minji silenced me by placing her finger against my lips.

Then she pulled a camera out of her backpack.

“Let’s talk business instead. You talk too much.”

“…….”

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“Since the hospital video already drew attention, it’s time to properly establish your image,” Minji said, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

She began unpacking more equipment, her face rigid with focus.

“First, we’ll film today’s practice and the performance at the annual concert. Then, I’ll cross-edit the footage.”

Her unusual seriousness drew me in. I found myself listening carefully.

“We’ll keep your identity as Kevin Jung ambiguous—neither confirming nor denying it. If rumors spread, we’ll let them, but we won’t officially reveal anything. I’ve decided to go with the Paganini-themed intro, so we’ll center everything around that concept….”

“Wait.”

“…….”

Her endless stream of words nearly made me let it slide, but I interrupted.

“You want me to wear that?”

I pointed to the sparkling outfit laid out in front of her.

The design was all too familiar—it looked just like the flashy stage costumes from my old nightclub management days.

“Um… about that….”

Minji licked her lips and avoided my gaze.

“And why isn’t there a shirt?”

“There is. Right there.”

She pointed at me, specifically at my school uniform.

“My uniform?”

“No, your abs.”

“…Are you trying to make me look insane?”

“Ugh, you’re so out of touch. Let me give you an example: search for classical performances on YouTube. Do you think our world-class artists like Cho Sungjin or Han Yeoreum have more views, or do you think the sexy ladies playing piano in bikinis do?”

“…….”

“Seojoon, the world has changed. To make people care about classical music, you need to combine auditory elements with visual appeal. In other words, showmanship.”

Junsoo nodded in agreement.

“That actually makes sense.”

“Right? And—”

I waved my hand to cut her off before her speech grew longer.

“Anyway, no.”

“Tch.”

Minji clicked her tongue in disappointment and pulled out a different outfit—this time, a clean, classic black suit.

“That’s more like it.”

“But we’ll need to style your hair and do some light makeup.”

“No—”

“Come on, compromise a little.”

Watching her rub her fingers together in a pleading gesture, I couldn’t help but give in.

***

After changing into the suit, I stepped out, and Minji’s face lit up with a wide grin.

She hesitated for a moment before deciding against the makeup.

“Your hair’s a bit long, so let’s just slick it back with some wax.”

She began styling my hair herself, her hands surprisingly adept. Once done, she stepped back, swallowed hard, and gave an approving nod.

“Wow… this is killer. Let’s just add some red to your lips….”

“…….”

“And… wow, your skin is so pale and clear. Let’s add eyeliner—give you a bit of that decadent vibe….”

“…….”

I was exhausted.

By the time all the touch-ups were done, quite some time had passed. Both Choo Minji and Junsoo stared at me in silence, occasionally muttering things like, “Unreal,” or, “Amazing.”

“Take a look,” Minji said, handing me a mirror.

“Hmm….”

I gazed at my reflection.

Pale, porcelain skin and strikingly defined features stared back at me. My slicked-back hair gleamed with wax, and my lips were painted a deep crimson, reminiscent of blood.

The face of a vampire straight out of a movie.

As much as I hated to admit it, it was a face so well-crafted that if someone other than an old soul like me had this appearance and knew how to present themselves, they could have become a famous celebrity.

“Seojoon, remember what I said earlier? Music isn’t just about the sound anymore—it’s about the visuals too.”

“Yes.”

“This… this is it. This is exactly what I meant. It’s perfect. We should go with this look for the concert too. Got it?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“Wow, you actually like it too, huh?” Minji grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.

Her enthusiasm was so infectious that I unconsciously returned the gesture. Not because I was thrilled, but because she was simply too cheerful to resist.

“Oh, one more thing,” Minji said, snapping her fingers as if she’d just remembered something.

“For the video, should we use your real name or a stage name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Then I’ll pick!”

She beamed as she powered on the camera. After fiddling with it briefly, her expression turned serious again.

“Start!”

At her cue, I placed my hands on the piano keys.

On the small surface of the key beneath my pinky finger, I noticed an inscription: BLISS.
It meant “complete happiness.”

I suddenly recalled that the same word was engraved on Kim Bom’s violin.

Focus.

After a short breath, I cleared my mind and began to play La Campanella by Liszt.

****

The Poongkwang Foundation is an educational institution that oversees Poongkwang University, two high schools, and three middle schools.

Given its size, the foundation includes several welfare facilities, one of which is this art hall.

While not on par with the grand cultural centers of major cities, it was still a decent venue—large enough that even renowned artists occasionally rented it for performances.

“Wow… this is crazy,” a male student from Poongkwang High School muttered as he stood outside the art hall.

He was there for the school orchestra’s annual concert, which all students except seniors were required to attend.

“So true,” a female student next to him agreed.

“Why’d they rent this place? They won’t even fill half the seats.”

“Isn’t this kind of wasteful? The principal must be losing it.”

“Still, skipping evening classes feels great!”

“Ooh, rhyme!”

They laughed as they walked into the art hall.

And then—

“…What the hell?”

They were stunned into silence.

The lobby was massive and lavishly decorated, but that wasn’t what caught their attention.

It was the crowd.

The space was packed, bustling like a department store on a weekend.

For a moment, they wondered if they were in the wrong place. But scattered among the crowd were plenty of familiar faces from Poongkwang High, their expressions just as awestruck.

“What’s going on…?”

“Hey, isn’t that the uniform for Shinhwa Arts High?”

The male student nudged the girl and pointed to a group of students in black uniforms. Each of them exuded an air of sophistication.

“Wow… that girl’s gorgeous….”

“Get a grip. Oh? Over there—it’s Iwon Arts High.”

The girl pointed to another group, this time in gray uniforms. They, too, looked anything but ordinary.

One student, in particular, was surrounded by an unusually large crowd.

“Who’s that? Are they a celebrity?”

“You don’t know Han Yeoreum?”

“Who?”

“She’s a violinist. Won some major competition—she’s famous.”

“I’ve never heard of her….”

“Idiot.”

The girl pulled out her phone, quickly finding a picture to show him.

“Wow, she’s stunning. Oh! I’ve seen her on TV! And in ads!”

“Told you.”

“That’s awesome. But seriously, why are so many students from other schools here?”

Besides Shinhwa and Iwon, students in various uniforms from other schools were scattered throughout the lobby.

“They’re not here for our school’s concert, are they?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That makes no sense.”

Moments later, the announcement signaling the start of the performance echoed through the lobby, silencing the chatter.

The crowd began filing into the auditorium.

“It really looks like they are….”