No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 16: Chaconne (6)

“I’ll head there now, so hold off on the surgery for the time being,” said Kim Sungsoo as he left the performance hall, phone pressed to his ear.

He tried to weave his way through the crowd at the exit, but the sudden halt of people ahead forced him to stop.
The overhead announcement made it difficult to hear the conversation clearly.

“Director? Where are you now?” the voice on the other end asked.
Kim sighed. “Dr. Park, I’ll call you back shortly.”

Frowning, he pushed through the stalled crowd, determined to reach the door.

As he neared the exit, a faint sound of a violin tuning wafted from the stage.
“…….”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, the sound felt deeply familiar, as recognizable as his daughter’s voice.

Kim found himself pausing, turning back toward the stage.

Under the bright spotlight stood a tall young man, his disheveled appearance reminiscent of a drenched rat.
The name from the program came to mind.

Jung Seojoon.

Something about him felt oddly familiar.

Buzz.

Kim’s phone vibrated again in his pocket just as the performance began.

“Hm….”

The melody was bright and lively, vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place the composer or title. Despite having a wife and daughter deeply involved in music, Kim himself had little knowledge of it.

“This young man is… very skilled,” he muttered.

The quality of Seojoon’s performance was as striking as the young pianist Kim had seen in the hospital lobby not long ago. Thinking of talents like Han Yeoreum and Jo Sanghyuk, he wondered if this level of skill was just standard for today’s youth.

“Is that why Bom couldn’t make it into the arts school?” he murmured with a click of his tongue.

Kim turned to leave, but his feet refused to move. His eyes and ears kept pulling him back toward the stage, much like how he’d sneak glances at a high school crush on the bus.
Before he knew it, he had found a nearby empty seat and sat down.

“Wow….”

Even without knowing much about music, Kim could tell how extraordinary this young man was. The dazed look on the face of conductor Park Myunghoon sitting nearby was proof enough.

“If only Laimi could see this….”

The thought of his late wife crept in unbidden. He had worked hard to bury her memory, but Jung Seojoon’s performance had unlocked the floodgates of emotions he thought he’d sealed away.

Moments later, the performance came to an end.

The bow’s final sweep marked the close of the stormy piece, leaving an intense silence in its wake.

…….

As Seojoon lowered his bow, the hall fell into a profound hush. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

And then—

“Waaaah!”
“Bravo!”
“Amazing!”

The audience erupted into thunderous applause.

Kim found himself standing along with the crowd, clapping with vigor.
“Incredible… truly incredible….”

Snapping back to his senses, he took out his phone to check the missed calls from the hospital. With a sigh, he stepped into the aisle and headed toward the exit.

He realized he was the only one leaving the performance hall.

“Where on earth is Bom?”

Pushing open the doors, he stepped into the empty lobby.

Just as he was about to dial Bom’s number, the cheers from inside the hall abruptly ceased.

In the sudden quiet, the sound of a violin cut through the stillness, sharp and tragic.

[!!]

The melody struck him like a bolt of lightning—intense, sorrowful, and overwhelming.
Kim followed the sound with his eyes, landing on the massive screen mounted on the lobby wall.

It displayed a live feed from the stage, where Jung Seojoon was now playing the violin.

“This is….”

Kim immediately recognized the piece. It was his late wife’s favorite: Bach’s Chaconne.

The violin’s sound filled the hall, impossibly rich and full for a single instrument.

Once again, Kim found himself ensnared by Seojoon’s performance.

“…….”

As he sank deeper into the music, his wife’s face, which had grown faint in his memory, became vividly clear. Her voice echoed in his mind, recounting the story of this piece as if it were yesterday.

“People call this piece the tears of the violin.”
“It fits, doesn’t it? Bach must have been devastated after losing his beloved wife.”
“I think differently. To me, this piece feels so desperate because it doesn’t convey Bach’s grief, but rather, it represents the sorrow of his late wife.”
“Hmm.”
“Think about it. Imagine the anguish of a mother leaving her children behind. How heart-wrenching must that be?”
“Ah….”
“Even the structure of the piece reflects it. It begins with a cry and ends with one. If it were written from the perspective of someone who remains, it would end with resolution, with acceptance. But it doesn’t—it ends in despair.”

“Ah… now I understand.”
“Really? Then you’ll be able to take good care of our Bom after I’m gone?”
“Yes….”
“And please… don’t let me leave alone.”

Lying in her hospital bed, his wife had smiled as she said those words.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Kim Sungsoo had returned her smile.

But his wife passed away two days later, while he was on a business trip abroad.

Since that day, Kim had lived in regret, blaming himself for failing to recognize the severity of her condition, despite being a doctor.

“Dear….”

Kim lifted his head, gazing at the screen where Jung Seojoon’s face, magnified by the camera, was etched with sorrow.

And below him, a word etched onto the violin caught Kim’s eye: “BLISS.”

“Ah!”

It was his wife’s violin.

Realizing this, the mournful wail of the violin transformed into his wife’s lament. He felt the anguish of a mother forced to leave her daughter behind, the grief resonating with every note.

The emotional dam he had held back for years burst, and he collapsed to his knees, overcome.

At that moment, someone approached him, kneeling to meet his gaze.

“Dad.”

“Bom….”

Kim Sungsoo looked at his daughter through tear-filled eyes. Kim Bom’s eyes, too, were red.

“I’m sorry, Bom. I tried to erase my guilt toward your mother through you….”

Kim had always known that Bom didn’t truly want to play the violin. But the idea of her letting go of the violin felt like losing his wife all over again, so he had clung to it, forcing her to keep playing despite her feelings.

“I thought I had let go… thought I had moved on….”

“Dad….”

“From now on, I’ll let go of your mother… and I’ll think only of you.”

“Dad….”

The two embraced tightly. For the first time since their wife and mother’s passing, they comforted each other.

From the performance hall, Jung Seojoon’s music continued to flow, carrying the moment with it.

****

“Kevin’s music has the power to move people’s hearts. That’s his greatest gift,” Professor Han remarked as she stood by the art hall’s entrance.

Her gaze rested on the bench outside, where Kim Sungsoo and Kim Bom sat hand in hand, talking. The sight of the reconciled father and daughter brought a smile to her face.

“No,” Han Yeoreum interjected, standing beside her mother.
“Kevin’s real draw is his handsome face and sexy body.”

“…….”

Ignoring her daughter’s nonsense, Professor Han turned her attention back to the screen broadcasting the live performance.

Even though Jung Seojoon had finished his performance and returned backstage, the audience was still clapping and cheering.

“Encore! Encore!”

They were calling for one more piece, unaware that the place Seojoon was heading wasn’t back to the stage—it was the police station.

“Mom, are you sure everything’s going to be fine?”

“Yes. No matter what, we’ll make sure nothing happens. Bom’s dad is ready to help, too.”

A middle-aged man emerged from the parking lot and approached the two women. His neat haircut, well-fitted suit, and the lawyer’s badge on his chest gave him a sharp, authoritative presence.

Nodding to Professor Han, he then turned to Yeoreum.
“It’s been a while.”

“Hello, Uncle,” Yeoreum replied stiffly, her tone awkward.

“I heard you’ve returned to Korea. Stop by the house soon. Let’s have a meal together.”

“Yes.”

With a curt response, Yeoreum looked to her mother.
“I’ll get going now.”

“Alright.”

As Yeoreum walked off, the lawyer and Professor Han began a dry, business-like conversation.

“That boy’s name is Jung Seojoon, right? What kind of kid is he? Is he really a musician, not a thug?”

“Don’t speak so carelessly about my student. Even you won’t be forgiven for that.”

“Fine. Anyway, the victim—or rather, the attempted murder victim—is expected to lose vision in his right eye.”

“…….”

“We’ll try to settle it based on testimony from the other students and the fact that the injury was caused in self-defense, but….”

He trailed off as his eyes shifted to the path leading backstage.

Jung Seojoon appeared, walking with two detectives. Behind them followed his parents and Seo Sooji, all with troubled expressions.

Professor Han turned to Seojoon and gave him a calm, reassuring smile.
“Go on, Kevin. My husband will represent you.”

Seojoon looked at the man with a neutral expression and nodded slowly.
“I’m not worried.”

“…….”

The lawyer raised an eyebrow at Seojoon’s composure.

How could someone remain so calm in this situation? And more importantly, how could someone who had done what Seojoon had be so unshaken?

The fact that Seojoon had taken the stage after being injured, performed with detectives waiting for him backstage, and even played an encore, was baffling.

His audacity was astonishing.

“Let’s leave before the crowd gathers,” the detective urged.

“Wait a moment,” Jung Seojoon said.

He turned to Seo Sooji, who was standing behind him.
“I’ll return it myself.”

Taking the violin from Seo Sooji, Seojoon walked over to Kim Bom and handed it to her after a brief conversation with Kim Sungsoo. Then, without another word, he climbed into the waiting police car.

****

The situation felt anticlimactic.

“Detective,” Seojoon began, setting his spoon down and looking at the officer sitting across from him.

The man was distracted, rummaging around for a missing pen on his desk, and responded without even glancing up.
“Just wait there if you’re done eating.”

“No, I meant, did that grandma’s soup restaurant nearby close down?”

“Huh? No, it’s still there.”

“Feels like it might be better than this place.”

“You’re right, I prefer—wait, how do you even know about that?”

“Well, you know….”

Before Seojoon could continue, the door opened, and Yoo Jungyeol, the lawyer, returned. As the husband of Professor Han and a renowned law firm representative, his reputation and competence were impeccable.

The detective immediately stood and greeted him.
“Thank you for your hard work today, Representative Yoo.”

“Yes, I’ll be taking Jung Seojoon with me now.”

“Of course. We’ll contact you soon with good news.”

Seojoon followed Yoo Jungyeol out of the police station.

****

“First off,” Yoo Jungyeol began, “let me bring you up to speed….”

He explained the case’s details and its progress, though nothing he said was unexpected, so Seojoon listened half-heartedly.

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” Yoo asked.

“Yes,” Seojoon replied, “but what about Junsoo?”

“He’s hospitalized. Kim Bom was also at the hospital earlier, giving her statement.”

“And what about Choi Pilwook?”

“He’ll likely be admitted for treatment today or tomorrow. The detectives seem uneasy—they can’t figure out why he would have wanted to kill Baek Junsoo. There’s no clear motive.”

“I see.”

“Oh, and I don’t know why you made that request to Director Kim, but I’ve handled it as you asked.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t do anything that could complicate matters further.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Now go check on Junsoo.”

As Yoo Jungyeol departed, Seojoon approached his waiting parents in the parking lot.

“You did well.”
“You must have been so scared….”

His parents greeted him with warm smiles. Perhaps they had decided not to press him for answers after learning the whole story, or maybe it was simply their instinct as parents to trust him unconditionally.

“Let’s visit the hospital first,” his father suggested.

“Yes,” Seojoon replied.

As they waited for a taxi, a car pulling into the parking lot caught Seojoon’s attention.

The driver was someone he recognized—a lawyer he used to employ personally during his time as Baek Jinseong. The man’s presence, given his aversion to public appearances, unsettled Seojoon.

At the hospital, Seojoon went to the emergency room to get stitches for the laceration on his right hand.

Though the wound didn’t feel like much to him, the doctor commented that it might leave a significant scar. When asked why he went onstage in such a condition, Seojoon replied simply,
“Because I wanted to.”

After the treatment, he told his parents he planned to visit Junsoo and then head home, persuading them not to come along.

Junsoo was at a different hospital, after all.

Seojoon stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for Junsoo’s floor, and soon arrived at a quiet hallway. He spotted police officers standing guard outside a room.

When he approached, they let him in without question.

Inside, one of the detectives who had escorted him earlier was sitting with arms crossed. At the sight of Seojoon, the detective cleared his throat awkwardly and left the room.

When powerful people take your side, nothing becomes impossible.

The door closed with a thud, leaving Seojoon alone in the room.

He approached the bed, where Choi Pilwook lay, handcuffed and motionless with his eyes closed.

Standing over him, Seojoon spoke softly.
“Wake up. We still have things to talk about.”