No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 003: The Giant (1)

The world is a jungle.
The strong devour the weak, operating under the laws of survival of the fittest.
Schools are no different.
The strong prowl for prey, while the weak scramble desperately to avoid becoming it.

At Poonggwang High, this jungle rule is alive and well.
The food chain here had a clear apex predator: Choi Pilwook.

Since childhood, Pilwook had always been physically dominant, towering over his peers.
Years of playing sports in middle school further sculpted his muscular frame.
Among his peers, he was an undeniable presence.

And his ultimate dream? To become a gangster.

“Hey, Pilwook! Some guy’s going around calling himself a gangster.”
“What?”

To someone like Choi Pilwook, who aspired to be a gangster, hearing about a self-proclaimed one was almost an affront.

“…That kid?”

From afar, Choi Pilwook spotted Jung Seojoon walking toward him.
Pale skin.
Slouched shoulders and a bit of a forward-leaning neck.
To Pilwook, Seojoon looked like someone who had never worked out in his life—a lanky mess.

Pilwook had decided right then that the guy was insane and planned to just scare him off.
But then…

“I’ll keep to myself, so don’t mess with me.”

Pilwook was speechless.

What was with that confident tone?
The relaxed expression on Seojoon’s face could only be described as mocking.
It was a challenge—a blatant one.

“Is this guy nuts?”

Choi Pilwook loomed over Seojoon, his gaze as sharp as a predator eyeing prey.
But Seojoon didn’t flinch. Not even a blink.

Instead, Seojoon stretched out his hand and began feeling Pilwook’s muscles.

“Do you work out?”

He pressed on Pilwook’s deltoids, traced along his biceps, and even tapped his lats.

For a moment, Pilwook was so stunned he couldn’t react.

“If this were the old days, you’d be a guy I’d want on my team…”

“Move your hands.”

“My apologies if that offended you,” Seojoon said casually.
“Judging by your build, though, I’d guess you wrestle. But your balance isn’t suited for that. If you’re serious about this, you should try striking instead.”

What was this eerie composure?
Pilwook’s mind spun.

“Does this guy… have backup?”

It dawned on Pilwook that someone brazen enough to call themselves a gangster might have connections—real ones.
Not wanting to take any unnecessary risks, he decided to tread carefully.

“This guy’s pathetic. Do I even need to bother with him myself?”

Turning to his group, Pilwook called out:
“Hey, anyone wanna deal with him?”

The group exchanged glances, until one stepped forward.

“I got this.”

His name was Park Jigeun, a guy with more smarts than strength—one of the few reasons he was part of Pilwook’s group.

“You, Jigeun?”

“Come on, Pilwook. Let me blow off some steam.”

To Jigeun, the transfer student looked like perfect prey—someone to beat down and solidify his own standing in the group.

“Fine, do whatever you want.”
“Yes!”

The other boys laughed as Jigeun strutted forward, rolling his shoulders dramatically.

“What’s your name again? Jung Seojoon?”
“Heh.”
“What’s so funny? You trying to get yourself killed?”

Jigeun couldn’t help but find Seojoon’s unflinching demeanor odd.

“He’s not even flinching in front of all these guys?”

Still, Jigeun trusted his instincts.
To him, Seojoon was nothing more than a weakling bluffing for survival.

“So, you’ve been going around calling yourself a gangster? Acting all high and mighty on your first day? Guess you’re due for a beating.”

He tossed his phone to one of the guys behind him.

“Record this. I’ll add it to my collection.”

Jigeun turned his attention back to Seojoon, closing the gap between them.
He mimicked a stance he’d seen on YouTube tutorials about how to fight, stepping in cautiously.

When he was close enough to strike, he threw a quick jab.

Thwack!

His punch landed cleanly, whipping Seojoon’s head to the side.

“Hoo-hoo! Look at that!”

Jigeun spun his wrist theatrically, basking in the moment.
He even made a heart gesture at the phone recording him, grinning ear to ear.

“Alright, just a couple more punches to wrap this up.”

He grabbed Seojoon by the collar and pulled his head back to face forward.

But then he froze.

“…You’re smiling?”

The reaction he expected wasn’t this.
People should have been trembling in fear, paralyzed by his strength.
But instead, Jung Seojoon stood there with a look of mild amusement, as if this whole situation was beneath him.

“Hey, kid,” Seojoon said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Now it’s mutual, isn’t it?”

“What the hell are you—”

Slap!

Seojoon’s palm struck Park Jigeun across the face, snapping his head to the side.

“Ack—”

“If you can’t even throw a proper punch, a slap suits you better.”

“You son of a—”

Slap!

Another resounding slap landed, sending Park Jigeun sprawling to the ground.

The crowd of onlookers murmured in shock.

“What the hell is with this guy?”

Despite the tension, no one dared to step in. Something about Seojoon’s demeanor—calm, detached—kept them at bay.
He didn’t look enraged or flustered, just composed, like someone well-acquainted with violence.

“Where did you learn such bad manners, kid?” Seojoon muttered, grabbing Jigeun by the hair.
With a practiced motion, he struck him again.

“Ugh… ahh…”

“Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue, Seojoon released Jigeun’s head, letting him slump lifelessly to the floor.

He stood back, wondering for a moment if he’d gone too far. But then again, with hands like his, how much damage could he really do? Satisfied with his reasoning, Seojoon turned his attention to Choi Pilwook.

“You saw that it was mutual, right?” Seojoon said.

Pilwook said nothing, his jaw tightening.

“Anyway, take him to the nurse’s office.”

“This crazy bastard…”

Pilwook finally decided it was time to act. He could tell from Seojoon’s frame that he had the upper hand in strength. But the uncertainty remained—what if Seojoon really had connections?

“What school did you come from?” Pilwook asked.

“No idea.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. Who’s backing you? Are you really part of that life?”

“Backing? Heh.”

“Spit it out unless you want to die.”

“Alright.” Seojoon sighed deeply, as though genuinely pitying Pilwook.
“I’ll let you talk to my ‘backing.’ Give me a second.”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Seojoon dialed a number.

Pilwook tensed. I knew it!
This guy must have some serious reputation, someone’s younger brother or disciple. The murmurs from Pilwook’s group confirmed that they too sensed something dangerous.

“Yes, good afternoon,” Seojoon spoke into the phone.
“I’d like to report some students smoking in a non-smoking zone. That’s a fine of 100,000 won, correct? Please send someone to Poonggwang High as soon as possible.”

I never want to live as a gangster again.
That doesn’t mean I plan to live as a victim, though.
And it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll just endure nonsense.

If trash blocks my way, I’ll brush it aside.
If dirt clings to me, I’ll shake it off.

That’s how I justified today’s events.

“Damn it…”

Maybe it’s the younger body, but I’d lost my temper far too easily.
They say old habits die hard, and I was proving that true firsthand.

Whispers filled the air.

Word spread quickly.
Apparently, I’d “dealt with a delinquent,” a tale that grew more ridiculous with each telling.

Reactions among the students fell into two camps.

The first group thought I was an actual gangster.
The second group found the whole thing satisfying, as Park Jigeun clearly wasn’t well-liked.

Most comments leaned in my favor, making it clear Jigeun’s reputation at school was trash.

“Let’s stay calm,” I muttered to myself. “I need to keep a low profile in this life. No repeating old mistakes. Stay cool.”

With that resolve, the day’s regular classes came to an end.

As students split into two groups—those staying for self-study and those leaving for after-school academies—I quietly followed the latter group and made my way to the gym.

Inside, various instruments echoed.
Music majors aspiring for university were scattered in practice rooms, each fine-tuning their craft.

I headed to the second floor of the gym.
At the end of the hallway, a personal practice room repurposed from an old storage unit caught my eye.

I pushed the door open and froze.

“Oh.”

Inside, a petite girl was sprawled across a sofa, wearing bright red leggings beneath her skirt. She lay there with no care in the world.

I quickly averted my gaze.

“Hey, what’s with that look? Do I disgust you?” she asked, her half-closed eyes meeting mine.

“Not at all.”

“Liar. You looked at me like I was a squished cicada.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You totally did, you jerk.”

“So, are you going to teach me now, or just talk?”
“Of course I’m teaching you! Do you know how busy I am? I’m making time for you, so show some respect. By the way, kiddo, I’m a third-year, so a little deference would be nice.”

“Kiddo…”
“If you’re younger than me, you’re a kiddo. Deal with it, heh heh.”

The girl stood up and extended her hand toward me.

“I’m Choo Minji. And you? Gangster?”
“…”
“Kidding, kidding. You’re Jung Seojoon, right?”
“Yeah.”

We shook hands.

“Wow, your hands are so soft! Did you do gangster stuff with these? Scary, scary.”

She kept rubbing my hand like a good luck charm, so I pulled it away.

“Playing hard to get, huh?”

Minji flopped back onto the sofa.

“Okay, before we start, come sit next to me.”
“…”
“Relax, I’m not going to eat you. I just have something important to say.”

I hesitated, but eventually sat next to her. She casually rested her hand on my shoulder and continued.

“Your piano playing earlier? Crazy good. Are you sure you’re not a music major?”
“It’s just a hobby. I’ve only played a little here and there.”
“Wow. Respect!”

The way she bit her lip was oddly endearing, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, are you laughing? Don’t let this fool you; I’m a scary senior, you know?”
“Heh.”

If I’m going to live as this body, I might as well adapt to its life.

“Alright, I’m sorry, scary senior.”
“Good, good. So, who taught you piano?”
“A combination of video tapes and a college student I don’t even remember.”
“Video tapes? You mean YouTube?”
“No, actual tapes you put in a VCR.”
“What the… And the college student?”
“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”
“So basically, you’re a genius, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“Ugh, so annoying.”

Minji then pulled out her phone and showed me a video. It was footage of my earlier Appassionata performance.

“Can I upload this to YouTube? My channel’s tiny, but I think this will blow up. I’ll split the revenue with you. Call it a lesson fee.”
“Do what you want.”
“Yes!”

She threw her arms in the air in triumph. Truly a noisy person.

“Judging by your expression, you’re ready to start learning?”
“Spot on.”
“Alright, speed lesson time. I’ll show you the sound and posture first.”

Minji grabbed the double bass propped against the wall. Its massive size made her small frame seem even smaller.

She picked up the bow from the sofa and held it with her hand curled gently, like she was gripping an egg. Then she wrapped her arms around the instrument and gave me a playful wink.

“How’s this? Kinda sexy, huh?”
“…”
“Don’t get shy now. Anyway, here we go!”

With a confident stroke, Minji drew the bow across the strings.
The mournful, deep tones of the double bass filled the room.

[Woo-woo-woooo—]

After the brief performance, she looked up at me with a proud expression.

“That was from…?”

“Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, Titan.”

“W-what?! How do you know that?”
“I’ve heard it a few times.”
“Holy… Most music majors wouldn’t even recognize that. This is insane.”
“I have a good memory. If I hear something once, I usually don’t forget it.”
“Ugh, you’re so irritating.”

Minji motioned for me to come closer.

“Alright, listen up. Big sis is going to teach you something good. You’re okay with a bit of skinship, right?”
“Not really.”

A short while later, Minji sat crouched on the floor, head in her hands.

“Just kill me…”

“What?”

“I said kill me! Just go out there and kill me!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, never mind. Let’s stop for today.”

“Was I really that bad?”

Minji snapped her head up, glaring at me with wide, round eyes.

“Bad? BAD?! Are you kidding me? You picked this thing up for the first time today and already played a C major scale! Do you know how long it took me to even hold the bow properly? A MONTH!”

“Calm down.”
“You’re a second-life reincarnation, aren’t you?!”

It’s tough keeping up with how kids talk these days.

“So, does this mean I’m accepted into the orchestra club?”
“Obviously! Forget about a week—you could perform tomorrow.”

Just then, there was a knock at the practice room door.

“Minji.”
“Oh, that must be the lesson teacher. Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged man with long hair and a thick beard—a walking stereotype of a musician.

“Oh, you have company?”
“Yeah, teacher. This is my soon-to-be junior.”
“Oh, really? Handsome kid.”
“Thank you.”

The man squinted, scrutinizing my face.

“Have we met before? You look familiar.”
“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, sir,” Minji cut in. “How would he have met you? He just transferred today. Anyway, gangster, you can go now. And don’t fight anyone—your fingers are important for the instrument. Don’t be late tomorrow!”

“Got it.”

As I left the practice room, the teacher was still muttering to himself, “I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere…”

I shrugged it off. Time to head home.

Walking toward the bus stop, I spotted a group of students in the distance.
It was Choi Pilwook and his crew, swaggering toward the school gates.

In the middle of their group was a small boy with a disheveled uniform that looked like it had been splashed with watercolors. His tangled hair and hunched posture screamed trouble.

“Tsk, tsk.”

I’d heard plenty of reports on the news about school violence, but seeing it up close was sobering. Still, I wasn’t about to get involved.

I hadn’t been reborn to play the hero—just Beethoven, not Batman.
As long as no one messed with me or my people, I had no reason to care.

Pilwook’s eyes met mine as he walked.
The kid who’d declared he’d “start the life” next year.
He must’ve thought his little reign would continue if he became a thug.
What a naive fool, with no idea what that world was really like.

After a brief moment, Pilwook looked away, clearly not eager to escalate things.

“Guess things will be quiet for a while,” I muttered.

But I had no idea just how foolish I was.
I’d let this new life distract me, forgetting something important.

The gym was eerily quiet today.
All the music majors, including Choo Minji, had gone out for private lessons, leaving the entire space to me.

“That’s enough for today,” I said, placing the bow onto the music stand and carefully resting the double bass on the floor.

“Heh.”

A satisfied smile crept across my face.
I’d never touched a double bass in my previous life, yet it felt easy and fun.
If my fingertips weren’t so soft, I could’ve practiced all day.

Could this body have learned the double bass, too?

Lost in thought, I left Minji’s practice room and wandered toward the stage. My eyes fell on the grand piano sitting there.

“Hmm…”

Nothing compared to the thrill I felt playing piano yesterday. Should I play again?
There was no need to debate—it’d just waste time.

I climbed onto the stage and took a seat at the piano, lifting the lid and resting my fingers on the keys.

What should I play?

A piece came to mind almost instantly.
Chopin’s “Fantaisie-Impromptu.”
I’d once worked tirelessly to master it, back when piano was my solace.

As soon as I decided, the sheet music filled my mind. Every note and nuance was vividly clear, just like yesterday.

These weren’t my memories—they had to belong to this body.

Why only music, though? Why not anything else?

“Whatever. What matters is that I can do it.”

I muttered to myself, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly and letting my fingers move.

[Dda-dan! Dda-dan!]

The familiar magic began again.
My own piano skills were now enhanced and perfected through this body.
My hands flowed naturally from one note to the next, executing the music flawlessly.

“Ha…”

The somber, stormy melody of Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu filled the empty gym.
Its rapid, dramatic rhythms shifted seamlessly into softer, more reflective passages.

I couldn’t believe these sounds were coming from my own fingers. It was intoxicating.

Memories surfaced from my childhood.
I remembered the volunteer pianist who had visited my orphanage—the first and only teacher I ever had.

“Wow… You can play that just by hearing it once? You’re incredible!”

Those words had planted the seed of a dream in me.
For a while, I practiced piano and immersed myself in classical music.
In a bleak and hopeless life, it felt like a ray of light had broken through.

But reality was cruel.
No opportunities came my way, and the only thing my mimicry talent led me to was fighting—not music.
I convinced myself that violence was the only way out of the gutter.

[Dda-dan! Dda-dan!]

Not anymore.
This time, I wouldn’t squander it.
I’d seize this body’s talents and make music mine—not just as a fleeting dream, but as a reality.

[Dda-da-dan! Dan!]