No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 22: No Redemption (3)

After everyone had left, only Choo Minji and I remained in the studio.

“This is so satisfying, I might lose my mind…”

Minji, her face glowing with excitement, kept replaying the recorded footage. She zoomed in on Choi Woochul’s face, showing me close-ups of his reactions—his mouth agape, his hands gripping his head in frustration, his emotions laid bare.

“You didn’t see this, did you? You were too busy playing the piano. He looked so pathetic, I almost felt sorry for him.”

Minji was right. While playing, I couldn’t pay attention to anything else. My mind was consumed by the memorized sheet music, and my fingers moved instinctively. Occasionally, I’d wonder, Am I even playing this correctly?

When that surreal detachment crept in, I simply let my body move on instinct, as if surrendering to the music. In those moments, I felt like a small sailboat on a vast ocean, letting the waves dictate my course, swaying in rhythm with the currents. It was almost like being in a trance.

Or perhaps the music wasn’t an extension of me, but something that had temporarily taken over my body.

“Anyway!”

Minji shoved her phone aside and pulled out her bag. With a dramatic flourish, she unzipped it and retrieved a white envelope, handing it to me with a triumphant smile.

“Here! Your payment!”

“Oh.”

The envelope was thick and heavy with cash.

“Wow, what’s with all this?”

“Better than last time, right?” Minji said, puffing her chest with pride.

“I adjusted the split ratio. You’ll like it better now.”

“The ratio?”

“For the revenue, of course. From now on, videos where you’re the main focus will be a 60-40 split in your favor.”

“Do whatever you think is best.”

Honestly, I still don’t understand how YouTube’s revenue system works. The fact that uploading videos online could generate this much money is beyond me. All I know is that it’s worth taking advantage of.

We continued chatting for a bit, covering topics ranging from lighthearted ones like our current favorite songs, to heavier matters like how much of the settlement I had left to pay. Eventually, the conversation drifted to school, and that’s when I remembered why I had come to see Minji in the first place.

I kept my explanation brief: an orchestra made up of troublemakers from school.

Her reaction was exactly as I had anticipated.

“Wow, so our little gangster is finally forming his own crew at school…”

“Cut the nonsense. Do you think it’s possible, or not?”

“Of course not. Nobody’s going to show up for practice.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Geez, a guy who sleeps all day and has no friends wants to pull this off…”

She trailed off, covering her mouth as if realizing she’d said too much.

“Wait a second. If you’re dragging those guys into a club, won’t Baek Junsoo feel left out?”

I knew that. Inviting people who had bullied his friend was bound to stir up some feelings. But Minji didn’t fully understand my motivations. The primary reason I’d planned this whole thing was for Junsoo’s sake.

“I’ll handle that.”

“Fine, fine. So, what do you need from me?”

“Not much. I just want you to help me with one thing.”

****

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to do that. Okay, see you later.”

I hung up the phone with a deep sigh.

The call had been from Professor Han.

She repeated the same things over and over: that I needed to attend Korea University, that I shouldn’t forget our agreement. I immediately clarified that everything I’d said during that live broadcast was just pleasantries.

Professor Han Gwangsook was deeply embedded in the Korean classical music scene. Why would I discard such a valuable connection? Her ability to control rumors about me and her proactive protection made her influence obvious. Making an enemy of someone like her? Not a chance. I wasn’t interested in playing games with academic networks or cliques.

All I wanted was to live this life comfortably and enjoy making music.

“Uh… excuse me.”

A timid voice interrupted my thoughts. The girl sitting next to me cautiously tapped my arm. Her thick glasses magnified her eyes, which still couldn’t meet mine.

“Yes, what is it?”

“It’s lunchtime now… aren’t you going?”

“Already?”

I stood up quickly.

“Thanks, friend.”

I left the classroom and headed for the auditorium. A familiar face was waiting for me at the entrance: Park Jigeun, the first student I’d ever scolded. He shifted nervously, fidgeting as if he had something to say.

“Seojoon… I told everyone to come, like you said…”

“Good.”

“Can I… go now?”

“No.”

“Ah…”

His face fell as he bit his lower lip in despair.

“Seo… Seojoon, I haven’t hung out with those guys since that time. I’ve been keeping a low profile at school… Can’t you just leave me out of this?”

“Park Jigeun.”

I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“Come inside. Listen to what I have to say, and then you can go.”

“B-but…”

Was joining a club really such a terrifying prospect? I swallowed my curiosity and walked toward the auditorium doors.

****

“What’s his problem?”

As I neared the door, voices drifted out from inside.

“Why the hell is he making us gather here?”

“He’s been quiet this whole time, so why start causing trouble now?”

“What if he’s worse than Choi Pilwook?”

“From what I saw back then, even if we report him, it won’t make a difference…”

“Should we all just gang up on him together?”

They still hadn’t come to their senses. Clicking my tongue in disapproval, I opened the auditorium door.

About twenty male students were gathered near the stage, chatting nervously. As soon as they saw me, they fell silent, forming a line and standing at attention, heads bowed in unison.

Their movements were so practiced and natural that I didn’t even bat an eye.

“Is everyone here?” I asked.

“Y-yeah…”
“Yes, Seojoon…”

Their voices were barely audible, the vicious confidence they once used to torment others now completely gone. They were the very definition of bullies who picked on the weak but cowered before the strong—a type I utterly despised.

“Uh, Seojoon…”

One of them timidly raised his hand.

“Do you… still have unfinished business with us? I mean, Choi Pilwook isn’t around anymore, and we’ve been keeping quiet…”

The others nodded cautiously, their faces filled with dread, as if they had been dragged into hell itself.

“Oh.”

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t told them the reason I’d called them here was for the club. No wonder they misunderstood. Then again, no matter the reason, this situation was probably hellish for them regardless.

“The reason I called you all here today is—”

I was interrupted by the vibration of my phone in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I saw the caller was Ma Ducheol. I answered immediately.

“Hyung, I’ve got the stuff you asked for. Where should I bring it?”

“The auditorium.”

“Got it, hyung.”

Almost immediately after I hung up, the auditorium door opened, and Ducheol walked in.

His massive frame practically filled the doorway. He was dressed in a sleek black suit with a designer shirt underneath. It seemed he’d taken the effort to polish up for his school-related errand regarding Junsoo. Seeing him like this after so long made me chuckle.

“Are you going to war?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on school grounds, so I figured I’d clean up a bit…”

Ducheol trailed off, his gaze shifting to the group of students behind me. He hesitated, clearly debating how to address them. I waved a hand casually to put him at ease.

“Don’t worry about them. Speak freely.”

“Uh… okay, Seojoon.”

“The stuff?”

Ducheol handed me a briefcase he’d been carrying.

“And the money?”

“Here.”

He pulled a wad of 50,000-won bills from his jacket pocket. As he did, a metal knuckle-duster fell out, clattering to the floor.

“Oops.” Ducheol quickly picked it up and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“You never know how Changsik might react…” he muttered.

“Be careful.”

I opened the briefcase to confirm its contents.

“Did you meet the homeroom teacher?”

“Yeah, she apologized profusely, so I accepted it for now. But when I asked for the names of the kids who bullied Junsoo, she wouldn’t give them up, no matter what.”

“Why would you ask her? I already know.”

“Wait, really? Where are those bastards?” Ducheol’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Calm down.”

I glanced at the line of students in front of me, still keeping their heads bowed.

“There are other students here, you know.”

“Oh, uh… my bad, kids. Sorry about that. This uncle’s just a bit mad~”

Ducheol flashed a toothy grin as he approached the nearest student—Park Jigeun.

“U-uh… uh…”

Jigeun couldn’t even form a proper sentence, trembling violently. The other students weren’t much better, their fear practically radiating off them. They instinctively understood that crossing this man would lead to dire consequences.

“By the way, do you all know Baek Junsoo?” Ducheol asked, his lips curling into a sly grin.

The students slowly nodded, unable to utter a word.

“Good. Nice to meet you. I’m Junsoo’s uncle.”

“Ah, hello…”
“Y-yes, nice to meet you…”

These bullies, who had once acted without a care in the world, were now completely paralyzed with fear at the thought of someone standing behind their victim.

“Uncle, that’s enough. Come over here.”

Ducheol was fiercely protective of his family. If he ever found out these kids had bullied Junsoo, he wouldn’t hold back. That’s why I’d deliberately kept him in the dark. I preferred slow, deliberate consequences over quick, violent ones.

“Make sure to get along with Junsoo from now on, okay?”

“Y-yes…”
“Of course, we will…”

As Ducheol stepped back toward me, I showed him the papers in the briefcase.

“These have been reviewed by Lawyer Yoo, right?”

“Yeah, he said everything’s in order.”

“But I don’t see the stamp pad.”

“Oh, it’s in the car. I’ll grab it right away.”

Ducheol hurried out of the auditorium.

Click.

I clicked my tongue, holding up the documents he’d brought. Turning to face the students, I was greeted by their terrified expressions. Though I hadn’t planned for Ducheol’s arrival, his presence seemed to make things easier.

“All right, now for the reason I called you here today…”

“S-Seojoon!”

Before I could finish speaking, one of the boys suddenly dropped to his knees, tears and snot streaming down his face as he begged for mercy.

“Seojoon, please!”

In no time, the others followed suit, groveling in the same manner.

“……”

I had expected them to be scared, but this was a bit much. To anyone watching, it would seem like I was preparing to execute them. Since I had no intention of comforting them, I wordlessly placed a sheet of paper in front of each one.

“Read it and stamp your seal.”

“W-what is this…?”
“W-what do you want from us…?”

“Application forms for the orchestra club. What, did you think they were organ donation waivers?”

Not one of them laughed. My joke went over their heads. Typical.

“Read quickly. We don’t have all day.”

The school administration had already approved everything. These kids would get community service credits for participating in orchestra club activities, with all practice sessions scheduled outside of regular school hours. Considering their track record of disrupting the academic atmosphere, the administration was more than happy to agree.

The boys nervously skimmed the forms and began whispering among themselves. The application forms included more clauses than they expected—probably why they were so uneasy.

“Let’s move it along. Time’s wasting.”

“Uh… b-but…”
“Um, well…”

They hesitated, so I placed six 50,000-won bills in front of each of them.

“If you practice in the auditorium for two hours a day, five days a week, you’ll receive a base payment of 300,000 won per month.”

They stared blankly at the money on the table, seemingly unable to process the situation.

“Additionally, every Wednesday we’ll conduct performance evaluations. Depending on your results, allowances will be distributed as follows: 300,000 won for top performers, 150,000 for average, and 50,000 for the lowest. That means just showing up for practice can earn you 500,000 won a month, and doing well could triple that to 1.5 million.”

“O-One and a half million?”
“For just two hours a day…?”

To high school students, this was a significant sum of money. Slowly but surely, the allure of cash began pulling them out of their fear.

“Can I… ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m already in another club…”

“Quit.”

One by one, the boys began asking questions, almost all of them about the money.

“You’ll get additional compensation for performances. Next.”

“I see something about a training camp during the holidays… What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it says. You’ll live in a dormitory and train intensively for two weeks. Naturally, you’ll be paid more for that. Next.”

Park Jigeun hesitantly raised his hand.

“U-uh, is it possible to refuse…?”

He glanced around, and a few others widened their eyes, clearly hoping for the same.

“Do as you like.”

“Then I—”

Before Jigeun could finish, the door burst open, and Ducheol strode in. He approached me quickly and handed me the stamp pad.

His face was tense, so I asked, “What now?”

“Some punk kids were smoking out in the open at school.”

“The container?”

Ducheol rubbed his shaved head and nodded.

“Go take care of it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, wrap it up and head home. See you later.”

“Got it!”

Ducheol rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing tattoos covering his forearms. The boys in the room audibly gasped.

“Don’t forget to give me the list of the guys who bullied Junsoo! Promise me!”

“Yes.”

“Later then!”

With a broad grin, Ducheol exited the auditorium, leaving behind a palpable silence. Even their breathing seemed to stop.

“Now, where were we?” I asked, turning to Jigeun.

“You, uh… you mentioned we didn’t have a stamp pad…”

“Oh, right.”

I placed the stamp pad on the table.

“Everyone, stamp your forms. Take the money—it’s your signing bonus.”

It didn’t take long. One by one, they all left red marks on the forms. I carefully inspected each one before pulling out my phone and calling Choo Minji.

“Come in.”

A moment later, Minji entered the auditorium with two staff members I recognized from earlier. The students looked at her in confusion, but I added a final statement to clear things up.

“Every Thursday, during ensemble practice, there will also be YouTube filming sessions. It’s all in the contract, so you should’ve seen it.”

“……”

Not long ago, Seo Sooji had asked me why I was doing this.

“Isn’t this a waste of your time and energy?” she’d said.

She was right. If I were doing this without a plan, it would be a complete waste. But I never make a move without knowing it’s worth my while. I don’t expend effort or time on pointless endeavors. I never have, and I never will.

“This is your first and last warning,” I said, addressing the group. “If you try to quit or run away, you’ll have to pay back ten times the signing bonus. And trust me, you’ll also have a very… memorable experience. Remember this: if necessary, I can be an even bigger bastard than you.”