No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode #006: The Giant (4)

Seo Sooji stood with her arms crossed, frowning deeply as she scanned the room.
“Why… what on earth…?”

The orchestra club she oversaw had 31 students, including Jung Seojoon, making it 32 in total.
Yet today, 40 people were gathered in the auditorium.

“Uh… what brings you all here, teachers?”

Eight members of the city symphony orchestra were in attendance, most of them principal players with unmatched experience and skill.
Such an assembly wasn’t something even elite arts high schools like Shinhwa or Lee Won could easily pull off.

One of the teachers, catching Seo Sooji’s eye, gave an awkward smile.
“I just came to check on how our Bom is doing. It’s been a while, Bom.”

“I quit lessons,” Kim Bom replied curtly.

“Haha… I know, I know. But once a student, always a student, right?”

The other teachers all offered similarly weak excuses, but their real focus was clear.
Every one of their gazes was fixed squarely on Jung Seojoon.
Blatantly so.

“Seojoon, uh… could you come here for a moment?”

Seo Sooji led him to a corner of the auditorium and began speaking in a tone tinged with guilt.

“What are we going to do? I didn’t want this to happen, but the rumors got out in ways I never imagined.”

She shot a pointed glare at the long-haired man next to Choo Minji.

“Hmm.”
Jung Seojoon nodded nonchalantly.

“It can’t be helped.”

He wasn’t entirely sure who these teachers were, but he could sense their prominence.
It gave him a glimpse of the immense interest and expectations the music world still had for Kevin Jung.

“I can guess their motives well enough. Maybe I should just talk to them one by one and send them off?”

“I’d rather just address them all at once.”

“Oh, you would? That’d make things easier for me.”

“Yes.”

Returning to his spot, Jung Seojoon stepped onto the platform and looked out at the audience.

The teachers’ eyes sparkled with anticipation, their faces resembling hopeful lottery players.

With composure, he addressed them.
“I won’t be able to play music for the time being.”

……

Silence engulfed the auditorium.
Then, murmurs began to spread before some of the teachers started bombarding him with questions.
Why?
Didn’t he say he wanted to continue with music?

The auditorium became a flurry of voices, but an even greater storm had just arrived.

“Kevin! Kevin!”

A woman with neatly styled silver hair strode into the room.
She wore a trendy suit that belied her age, her flawless skin free of wrinkles.

The arrival caused the symphony instructors to leap from their seats, scrambling to greet her.

Oh my! Professor Han!
What brings you here?
I was planning to visit you soon!

“Wow…”
Recognizing her, Choo Minji’s jaw dropped.
“This is insane… Look at the scale of Kevin Jung…”

The woman who had entered was none other than Professor Han, a professor at the piano department of one of Korea’s top music universities.
She was also a guest judge for symphony orchestras and music schools nationwide.

Even the renowned instructors present here were mere musicians in her presence, such was her influence and status.

“Yes, yes, good to see you all,” Professor Han replied curtly, quickly making her way to Jung Seojoon.

“Kevin… it really is you…”
Her voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Uh… yes,” Jung Seojoon responded, unsure of what to say.

He didn’t know this woman.
All he knew was that when he had searched for Kevin Jung online, there were photos of her teaching piano.

He didn’t even fully grasp how famous she was.
Unsure of how to react, his eyes accidentally met Choo Minji’s, who was still frozen with her mouth agape.

Choo Minji mouthed silently to him:
“Not going to say hi? Not happy to see her?”

Only then did Jung Seojoon consider what it would mean if he really were Kevin Jung.
Meeting a mentor after seven years would likely be a happy occasion.

He straightened his posture and bowed at a perfect 90 degrees.
“It’s been a long time. I hope you’ve been well.”

“Huh?”
Professor Han was momentarily startled by his formal greeting but quickly pulled him up and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for coming back. Truly, thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

As Professor Han and Jung Seojoon exchanged greetings, the other teachers watched with a mix of admiration and regret.
They couldn’t help but think they had lost the opportunity of a lifetime to teach a once-in-a-millennium genius.

The fact that Seojoon had just said, “I won’t be able to play music for now,” seemed entirely forgotten.

“Well, at least we’ve left an impression…”
“Yeah, that’s something…”

Moments later:
“What did you just say?!”
Professor Han’s shocked voice echoed through the auditorium.

“You can’t play music?!”

She grabbed Seojoon by the shoulders and shook him, her expression filled with panic.
Only then did Seo Sooji step forward hesitantly.

“Um… Professor…”

“And who are you, young lady?”
Professor Han asked in her usual haughty tone.

“I’m one of the teachers here.”

“Ah, Kevin’s homeroom teacher?”

“Not exactly, but…”

“Then you must know all about this. What’s going on? Did this school forbid him from playing music? I hate this school already. I’ll transfer him to an arts high school immediately. Bring me the principal!”

“…Excuse me?”

Seo Sooji was utterly dumbfounded. The professor’s words sounded like something out of a melodramatic TV show about a rich family matron.

“Why don’t we hear what Seojoon has to say first?”

“Hmph, fine.”

Professor Han turned back to Kevin—her eyes watery, her hand patting his shoulder gently.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Don’t tell me… the rumors are true?”

She grabbed his hand, inspecting it for any issues, then checked his ears.
“They seem… fine?”

“It’s not that,” Seojoon sighed deeply before continuing with a sheepish smile.

“I haven’t gotten my parents’ permission.”

“…What?”

Professor Han’s face was frozen in disbelief, as though she couldn’t comprehend what she’d just heard.
The other people in the auditorium had similar reactions.

…

A heavy silence hung in the air.
Feeling the awkwardness, Seojoon added with a faint grin,
“Being a minor is tough.”

…..

The next day, in the school cafeteria.

Students gathered in groups, chatting noisily as they ate.
In this bustling space, one table stood out for its unusual calm.

Here I was, once again eating lunch with Kim Bom, half against my will.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Kim Bom said, breaking the silence.

“You look like you do too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re really asking?”

I gestured with my chin toward her face, more specifically to her sunglasses, which she wore indoors.

“Oh, this?”

Kim Bom slowly lowered the sunglasses, revealing a faint bruise under her right eye.
With a small smirk, she pushed them back up.

“Got hit.”

“By who?”

“Why? Are you going to get revenge for me?”
“Was it Choi Pilwook?”

At my words, Kim Bom smirked as if the idea was laughable.
“Ha, him? Do you think he’d dare? I’d kill him first.”

“Then who?”

“It’s personal, so mind your own business.”

“Fine.”

It had been a few days since Kim Bom first approached me for a conversation.
Since then, we had been eating lunch together every day and going back and forth between the auditorium and the classroom.

I didn’t think much of it, so I let it be, and somehow, a faint sense of camaraderie had developed.
Not quite family, but at least the kind of acquaintance you’d occasionally grab a meal with.

“By the way, did you talk to your parents yesterday?”

“Sigh…”

“What’s with that reaction? Don’t tell me they rejected you again?”

“Yeah.”

I put my chopsticks down and rubbed my neck, the stress making my head throb.

“They’re still against it.”

…..

Five days ago.
As soon as I got home from school, I sat Father Jung and his wife down and declared my intentions.
I told them I wanted to return to music.

Their reaction was unexpected.

President Jung silently grabbed a cigarette and stepped outside.
Mrs. Jung, on the other hand, welled up with tears and took my hands in hers.

“Seojoon… you promised me, remember? That you’d never go back to music…”

Since then, I had tried talking to them twice more, but the answer remained the same:
A firm yet cautious refusal.

Instead, they started asking daily if something was wrong at school.

Whatever the reason was, it clearly ran deep.
I didn’t dare ask further, fearing I might evoke a reaction I wouldn’t be able to handle.
That was a puzzle I’d have to solve on my own.

…..

“You’re surprisingly obedient to your parents, Seojoon. Aren’t you supposed to be a gangster? Is that how gangsters act?”

“Shut up and eat.”

Having guardians was unexpectedly tiring.
Father Jung and Mrs. Jung were both people I felt a mix of guilt and pity toward.
While I could rebel against them, I didn’t want to.

“I remember reading an article back then. Your mom said she’d never let you touch music again.”

“Yeah, I saw it too.”

It had made it sound like music itself was the problem.
But if they hated music so much, why were there so many music-related things around the house?
Sheet music, records, even an old piano tucked into a corner.

…..

“…Ah.”

Suddenly, I recalled the conversations I’d been overhearing from the master bedroom lately.
They always began and ended with money.
They’d even mentioned the possibility of selling the house.

“Kim Bom.”

“Can’t you just call me by my name without the ‘student’ part?”

“This is easier for me. Anyway, I have a question.”

“What’s with that serious face?”

“Is playing music really expensive?”

“Hugely.”

“For example?”

“There are plenty of reasons, but first and foremost: lesson fees. If you want lessons from someone like Professor Han or the other teachers who came to our school yesterday, it’s at least fifty per session.”

“Per session? As in, per hour?”

“Yep. And if you’re aiming for places like Korea National University of Arts or the National Institute for Arts Education, you’d need at least two of those lessons a week. That’s a minimum of 3 million won a month. When it’s exam season? Double that.”

“Hmm.”

“And that’s not even the end of it. You’ll constantly have to attend masterclasses, camps, and other events, which cost hundreds more. Plus, you’re expected to buy tickets to your teachers’ concerts, bring flowers, and buy gifts for every special occasion. And when the exams roll around… well, you can imagine.”

Adjusting her sunglasses, Kim Bom continued.
“But honestly, all of that is nothing compared to the cost of instruments.”

“Instruments?”

“Yeah, especially for someone like me who plays a string instrument.”

“I’ve heard they’re expensive.”

“Expensive?”
Kim Bom chuckled and raised a single finger.

“This is how much mine costs.”

“A thousand? That’s not as bad as I thought—”

“A hundred million.”