No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 25: No Redemption (6)

Thursdays at school were always chaotic.
After regular classes ended, it was time for club activities. From academic clubs to band, modeling, dance, and even a mystery club, the options were endless.

Students’ faces were filled with a peculiar sense of anticipation. The hallways buzzed with groups of students chattering and laughing together.

But only when I wasn’t around.

“Look, it’s Jung Seojoon…”
“Shh…”
“Let’s head inside…”

The moment I stepped into the hallway, everyone scurried back to their classrooms.

“Ridiculous.”

At first, I found these kids amusing. Now, they were just irritating. I felt like oil floating on water—separate and out of place.

In this entire school, there were only two people who approached me willingly: Kim Bom and Junsoo.

“How’s the orchestra club going, Seojoon?”

That was Junsoo’s first greeting when we met at school. He didn’t complain about not being told directly or show any signs of disappointment. He just smiled as if nothing was wrong.

His easygoing attitude only made me more conflicted. What could he be thinking?

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I ran into Kim Bom at the hospital yesterday. And, well, the school’s full of rumors.”

“Rumors about what?”

“They’re worried you might end up like Choi Pilwook.”

His concern felt genuine. Of course, Junsoo would be curious too. He must wonder what my intentions were when I gathered those guys in the orchestra club.

“Heh, me, like that guy?”

Just then, I heard someone shout.

“Seojoon!”

Four members of the orchestra club came running toward me from the far end of the hallway. Students nearby quickly stepped aside, but those who couldn’t move in time were shoved against walls or knocked over.

The orchestra members didn’t apologize; instead, they grumbled as if it was the others’ fault.

“Seojoon! Should we make a group chat for the club?”
“Seojoon, want to hit the PC bang after practice?”
“Seojoon, some girls from the school next door invited us to a karaoke room. Want to come along?”

They were trying hard—too hard—to act chummy. It was like watching crocodile birds chirping around a crocodile’s teeth.

I ignored them for a while, and only then did they notice Junsoo standing behind me. Their expressions stiffened. Unsure how to respond, they hesitated before awkwardly waving at him.

“Oh, Junsoo! Long time no see.”
“Hey, Junsoo. How are you?”
“Been doing well?”

Their forced smiles and casual greetings, paired with faint smirks, seemed to say, Let’s forget the past.

Pathetic worms.

Fury rose within me, and I was about to say something, but Junsoo beat me to it.

“Yeah, hi,” he said calmly.

Surprised, I turned to look at him. His expression was the same as always—calm and unbothered. But his arms, hidden behind his back, were trembling. I noticed the faint quiver of his shoulders.

“…”

Junsoo was fighting to overcome the trauma of his past. Seeing him struggle like that stirred something hot and bitter within me.

“Get lost.”

“Huh?”

Junsoo looked at me in surprise. I turned my gaze toward the orchestra members.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said, get lost.”

I didn’t even try to hide my anger. Finally understanding, they flinched and quickly disappeared.

“Those little…”

A string of curses rose to my lips, but what I ended up muttering was something childish.

“Do they think I’m their friend or something?”

I turned back to Junsoo. His trembling had stopped, but his face still showed signs of strain. Taking the opportunity, I said bluntly, “You should’ve said something to them.”

“No. That would make it seem like I’m relying on you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t want to. I want to stand up for myself when I have the strength to do it.”

“…”

I stared at Junsoo. He didn’t avoid my gaze and looked back at me with resolute eyes.

I realized he had made up his mind about something.

Filled with admiration, I slapped his back hard.

“Ugh!”

“Good for you.”

****

I, Baek Jinseong, have two talents.

First, I can perfectly remember anything I hear.

Second, I can easily mimic others’ actions.

Once I realized these extraordinary abilities, I thought to myself: studying would be a piece of cake if I tried. Becoming a doctor or a judge? No problem.

But lately, I’ve realized how mistaken I was.

My abilities are entirely limited to music and physical tasks.

Even my current body—hailed as a genius among geniuses—is only remarkable for its musical talent. I’m not particularly intelligent in other areas.

That’s my excuse, anyway.

“Last in the entire school again, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least your life’s looking up.”

My homeroom teacher smirked as he spoke. When I first transferred, he looked at me like a troublesome burden. Now, he was cautious and even trying to get on my good side.

People can be so shameless.

“Anyway, why did you call me?”

“Oh, right. Starting next year, third-year students in arts and physical education will be grouped together. We need your consent. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Then just sign here before you go.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and the head teacher asked if you’d consider becoming the discipline committee leader next year.”

Did he mean that kind of discipline?

“No.”

“Alright. You can go now.”

I left the teachers’ office and headed toward the gymnasium.

On my way, I glanced at the container storage in the corner of the school grounds.

It was clean now, filled with flowerbeds. Though the flowers were few, thanks to the season, the area looked much brighter.

“Finally, something I like.”

Truthfully, the reason I didn’t like that spot before was because it always made me crave a cigarette.

Secondhand smoke is the enemy of quitting, after all.

“Maybe I should push for the entire school to become a no-smoking zone…”

As I approached the gym, I heard the voices of the orchestra members.

“It’s Jung Seojoon!”
“Shit, hurry up and get ready!”

And so on.

The sound of instruments soon followed.

“Heh.”
Predictably, they were up to their usual antics.

As I opened the gymnasium doors, I saw a cluster of chairs set up in the center and 21 members scattered around, each fiddling with their assigned instruments.

[Screech!]
[Clang! Clatter!]

It was a complete mess.

Not surprising, considering these guys hadn’t even held an instrument for more than a week. But still, there was a limit to how much one could excuse.

Just last week, I had taught the string players how to use their bows and the wind players how to produce sound. A basic task any elementary school kid could manage with a week’s practice.

I wasn’t asking for a rendition of Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol-La-Ti-Do. Just making coherent sounds would have sufficed.

Yet, they couldn’t even manage that. This meant they hadn’t practiced properly for even a single day.

The only exception was Park Jigeun, seated with the contrabass, who was at least producing some sounds.

“Hah…”
I bit back my frustration.

Today was Thursday—the day we filmed with the Korea University students for YouTube.

“S-Seojoon, you’re here?”
“Wow, instruments are so hard to play!”
“We’ll do our best today!”

They greeted me awkwardly and resumed their struggles with the instruments. It was as if they had forgotten everything I taught them.

A short while later, Seo Sooji arrived at the gymnasium.

“Who left this bat here?” she muttered, nudging a baseball bat leaning against the wall with her foot. Then, she walked up to me, letting out a deep sigh at the scene before her.

“Do you think this will work?” she whispered.

“Don’t worry,” I replied.

Not long after, Choo Minji and her filming crew arrived, quickly setting up cameras and lights. Meanwhile, the orchestra members started messing around, even getting into a spat with Minji.

As everything finally came together, the time we had agreed on with the Korea University students approached.

Unexpectedly, the first to arrive was Han Yeoreum.

She strode in with her long legs, drawing immediate cheers from the orchestra members.

“Wow, damn, she’s stunning!”
“She’s so hot!”
“Holy crap, what a body!”

They shamelessly blurted out whatever came to mind, uncaring if she heard. It was embarrassing, but Choo Minji seemed thrilled, capturing the entire scene on camera.

“Tsk.”

Minji had told me repeatedly: the success of this content rested entirely on Han Yeoreum.

“Hello, everybody~!”

Yeoreum approached me with her characteristic liveliness, placing a hand on my shoulder in an American-style greeting.

“Long time no see, Kevin~”

“Nice to see you too,” I replied curtly, ignoring the orchestra members’ audible gasps.

At the exact scheduled time, the Korea University students arrived in a group.

They were mostly the ones I had seen at Han Chamber—the same people who had ignored me and been put in their place. Now, they hesitated as they approached, offering greetings and apologies.

“If there’s anything to forgive, consider it forgiven. Let’s work well together.”

“No, no, we should be the ones thanking you!”
“We’ll give it our all. Let’s do our best!”

Once everyone was seated, Seo Sooji stepped onto the conductor’s podium.

Wearing her usual calm expression, she addressed the group.
“Now that we’re here, let’s work hard together.”

Afterward, everyone took turns introducing themselves.

The Korea University students shared their impressive resumes as requested, while the orchestra members exaggerated with a flair of arrogance, weaving in as much bravado as possible.

Finally, Han Yeoreum stole the show.

“Hi, my name is Hot Summer~”

She stood up, introducing herself with a dance-like gesture and showering the camera with finger hearts.

As expected, the reaction was explosive.

The orchestra members jumped out of their seats, cheering and hollering. It was an obnoxious display, but I had to admit it added a certain energy to the room.

Choo Minji’s earlier claim about Yeoreum being the key to success was quickly proving true.

“Alright, let’s split into groups and practice.”

Since playing together as an ensemble was still impossible, we decided to focus on individual practice for now.

****

Two hours passed.

The Korea University students left immediately after practice, their expressions stiff and tight. Even the usually cheerful Yeoreum gave me only a curt goodbye before departing.

“Seojoon, what did I tell you? This is hopeless,” Seo Sooji said, storming out of the gym in frustration.

Choo Minji’s staff packed up and left, but Minji herself approached me.

“Sigh… See, I told you this was going to be tough…”

“I expected this,” I replied.

“No, Seojoon… Even with Yeoreum, this is a stretch. Even with editing, it’s a stretch. Do you know how much flak we’ve already taken for the teaser? People are calling it ‘glamorizing delinquents.’ When the first episode airs, it’ll only get worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve already lost a lot of subscribers. Sure, you helped me gain them in the first place, but this is risky… This could really blow up in a bad way.”

I had no response. I had anticipated backlash, but not to this extent.

The orchestra members lacked any will to learn. They were rude, careless with the instruments, and even sexually harassed the university students. If Seo Sooji hadn’t stepped in, things could have escalated into a serious incident.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this? Are you okay with this?”

“Things will be better next week.”

“Sigh… I hope so. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but my livelihood is on the line here…”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“…Alright. I’ll edit this week’s footage as best as I can, even if it means taking some heat.”

For Minji, this was a significant challenge. This content wasn’t aimed solely at classical music enthusiasts—it was her first attempt at engaging the general public.

“Take care on your way home.”

I escorted Minji out of the gym and was about to head back in when I overheard the orchestra members talking.

“This is so easy.”
“I’m loving this. I’m not washing my hands today!”
“Did you see Seojoon’s face? Bet he’s regretting this whole YouTube thing~”
“Anyone know Yeoreum’s Instagram? Gotta get her to follow me back.”

What Minji didn’t know was the contract I had with the orchestra members.

The money exchanged between us.

If this project failed, I’d suffer a significant loss too. And I had no intention of losing.

When I re-entered the gym, the orchestra members greeted me cheerfully. The instruments they had used were carelessly strewn across the floor.

“Today was so much fun!”
“Seojoon~ Can we head out now?”
“See you tomorrow!”

Only Park Jigeun remained seated, quietly holding his instrument. The only one who hadn’t caused trouble with the university students. He seemed intent on continuing his practice.

The murmurs from the other orchestra members reached my ears, mocking Park Jigeun for trying to impress me.

“That idiot’s just sucking up to Jung Seojoon.”

In response to their whispers, I slowly spoke.
“We’re doing the settlement scheduled for tomorrow today instead. Everyone, come over here.”

Hearing this, the orchestra members lit up, delighted at the prospect of getting their money. They chuckled among themselves, clearly excited.

I pulled out a stack of 50,000-won bills from my bag and stood before them.

“Park Jigeun.”

At my call, Jigeun, who was standing at the end of the line, looked at me.

“Yes?”

“You’re rated ‘low’ among high, middle, and low.”

“Oh… okay.”

The other members snickered at this. I pointed to the nearest one beside Jigeun.

“From you.”
Then I gestured toward another.
“To you, you’re rated ‘high.’”

A brief silence followed before their whispers turned into cheers. They praised me, shouting, “Seojoon’s the best!”

“Everyone except Jigeun, come get your money from me, one at a time.”

“Yes, sir!”
“Thank you, handsome captain!”

They lined up and received 300,000 won each, throwing playful remarks as they did.

Finally, I held a single 50,000-won bill in my hand and stood before Jigeun.

“Here.”

Jigeun looked disappointed as he accepted the money. I understood why—he’d been practicing diligently while the others hadn’t. And to make matters worse, the guy next to him was waving his 300,000-won fan in Jigeun’s face, clearly mocking him.

“Does it feel unfair?” I asked.

“No, it’s just…”

“Let me explain why you’re rated ‘low.’”

I turned to the guy standing beside Jigeun.

“You.”

“Yes?”

“Brace your stomach.”

Without waiting, I kicked him hard in the gut.

“Ugh!”

He crumpled to the ground, the fan of bills scattering around him. The other members stared at me in shock.

Ignoring their gazes, I looked back at Jigeun.
“I don’t need to cover medical expenses for you.”

I walked past the terrified orchestra members toward the gymnasium entrance. Locking the door behind me, I pressed a switch, lowering the curtains around the room. Finally, I picked up the baseball bat leaning by the door.

“Hey, guys.”

No one answered. They just darted their eyes around, trying to assess the situation.

“Do you remember what I said last time? That I could be a worse bastard than any of you if needed?”

“S-Seojoon, we’re sorry…”
“We really are…”

“And do you remember what I told you before? That the cure for beasts is the stick?”

“D-damn it!”

The guy clutching his stomach spat out curses from the floor.
“There’s a CCTV here! I’ll report this!”

“Go ahead.”

“…What?”

I walked toward him, tapping the bat on the ground.

“When I watched the footage from before, I heard something interesting—something you said while beating up others.”

The defiance in his eyes faded as he avoided my gaze. I grabbed the back of his head, forcing him to look at me.

“Go ahead and report me. Then I’ll make sure the video of you getting beaten gets shared with your parents, cousins, future wife, and even your kids. Isn’t that what you said to others?”

“I-I…”

“Should I repeat some of the filth you said, or do you get it now?”

“I’m sorry… Seojoon…”

There’s no need to treat beasts like humans. When dealing with beasts, you have to become one yourself. Only then does it make sense.

“Get on the floor, starting with you.”

****

There’s a skill I naturally learned over 20 years of thug life.

It’s a technique refined through countless beatings and delivering blows myself: how to strike without leaving visible marks while maximizing pain.

[Groan…]
[Ugh…]

The gym was filled with the sound of groans.

“Such crybabies,” I muttered.

I was contemplating what method to use next when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

–Buzz.–

The call was from Choo Minji.

I tapped the bat lightly on the floor, drawing all their terrified gazes toward me.

“From now on, anyone who makes a sound gets an extra hit.”

As soon as I finished speaking, they bit their lips, suppressing their whimpers.

“Hello?” I answered.

-“Hey, thug, where are you?”

“The gym. I’m just helping the guys practice.”

-“Ugh, you’re working too hard… Why go so far?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience others.”

-“Sigh, you’re too nice for your own good, you know?”

“I agree with you there.”

-“Anyway, I forgot what I wanted to ask earlier, so I called again. About the title for this content—are you really going with it? It’s such a departure from clichés.”

“It’s fine.”

-“Alright, then. ‘No Redemption.’ We’ll stick with that.”

“Yes.”

No Redemption.

Just like how entering a genius’s body didn’t change who I was, and just like how my abilities remained the same even with a different body, the essence of a person doesn’t change.

Not for anyone.

–Buzz.–

As soon as I hung up, another call came in. This time, from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

-“Is this Jung Seojoon’s phone?”

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

-“This is the JS Group’s secretary’s office. Do you have a moment to talk?”