No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 61: In the Dream (1)

When playing an instrument, there are fleeting moments where I feel like I am not myself.
It feels as if I am both the performer and a nearby audience member appreciating the music.
It’s like following the most perfect answer laid out right in front of me.

From the first time I pressed the keys of a piano with this body until now,
I have always played comfortably, carried by the talents of this genius.

But conducting was different.
The sensation I experienced while performing disappeared,
and I had to move my body solely according to my own will.
I had to create the music I wanted, the music I desired.
Without Jung Seojoon’s help.

Today, I performed without the help of a genius.
I conducted the orchestra.

Though the musicians varied widely in skill, and their instruments were just as diverse,
I drew out the emotions and passions hidden within each of them and brought it to life in our performance.

The result was satisfying.
I felt a kind of emotion entirely different from what I feel when playing an instrument.

“Kind war tot!”
[Kind war tot!]
[Kind war tot!]
[Kind war tot!]

.
.
.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the ceiling.
A bright light shone above me.

As time passed, the dull ringing in my ears faded.
The music that had filled my body drained away.
The noise seeped into the space in my mind that had been full of instrumental sounds and lyrics.

The hearing that had both tormented me and, at times, aided me, reasserted itself.
Fortunately, the euphoria lingered, steady and unshaken.
It supported me.

****

The audience erupted into cheers.
They stood and clapped so hard it seemed their palms might burst.

They showered applause upon the two incredible vocalists, the orchestra, and the choir who had delivered an overwhelming performance.

But the focus of their applause was on one person.

The man standing still, staring at the ceiling.

Jung Seojoon.

He was breathing heavily, as if utterly consumed by a new sensation.

“Bravo! Bravo!”

The applause did not stop.

One of the two vocalists, a woman in a hood, stepped onto the stage.
She quietly spoke as she grabbed Jung Seojoon’s right arm.

“Seojoon, are you okay?”

During the performance, she had seen his right arm trembling slightly.
That was why she had approached and touched his arm then, and why she did so again now.

“Seojoon?”

“I’m fine.”

Jung Seojoon responded absentmindedly.

“…What?”

“It’s just… I feel regret.”

At his casual and natural tone, the corners of the woman’s lips curled upward beneath her hood.

“Phew…”

Jung Seojoon let out a deep breath and looked at the hooded woman.

Then, realizing something, his expression turned apologetic.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I suddenly spoke informally…”

“It’s okay. You’re my savior—you could even curse at me, and I wouldn’t mind.”

“Savior, you say… Just the fact that you kept your promise is enough for me to be grateful.”

“What promise? Just the fact that you called me here is an honor for me.”

“Ha… Well, anyway, shall we start again?”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

Jung Seojoon raised his baton again.

At his signal, the orchestra members readied their instruments.

The audience quickly returned to their seats, expecting the encore to begin.

When Jung Seojoon brought the baton down,
the drummer at the very back of the orchestra struck the drums.

[Boom! Boom!]

As the cheerful rhythm began, the orchestra’s melody followed.

The audience cheered at the familiar, unmistakable tune.

They clapped along to the rhythm while remaining seated.

But then.

The moment the woman beside Jung Seojoon threw off her cloak.
The moment three women standing by the organ shed their capes and turned to the audience.

The crowd could no longer remain seated.

[Hit it! Harder!]

Their identities were revealed: ABLEZ.

The woman who had been singing of the demon king was Kang Jisoo, a vocalist by training.

As the most popular girl group of the moment,
there wasn’t a single audience member who didn’t recognize their names.

“Kyaaaaaah!”
“It’s ABLEZ!”

In an instant, the solemn concert hall transformed into a frenzy of excitement.

“Kyaaaaaah! ABLEZ! ABLEZ!”

****

How many photos were taken on stage?
And how many autographs were requested out of nowhere?

Performing and conducting for nearly an hour was exhausting, but this was even more so.
These situations weren’t supposed to happen on stage, but it was my mistake to underestimate ABLEZ’s popularity.

I made a sacrifice, agreeing to help escort them out swiftly and safely.

“Phew…”

Finally, I arrived at the dressing room.

The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by a rush of floral scents.
The bouquet I’d carried in here was already overwhelming, but the dressing room itself resembled a flower shop.

“Man, it really pays to be good-looking,” muttered conductor Park Myunghoon, who had entered with me.

“Oh my, even the National Academy of Arts sent something?”
Professor Han Gwangsook, who had arrived earlier, was busy organizing bouquets.

“Professor Han, let’s keep it reasonable.”

“Does this look reasonable to you? All these bouquets here are from international management companies,” she said, flicking off cards and business notes attached to the flowers.

“I warned them…”

“We still need to ask Seojoon’s opinion.”

“I’m fine with it,” I replied.

The professor turned abruptly, startled, her hand covering her mouth in surprise.

“Oh, Seojoon, you’re here,” she said awkwardly, smiling as she handed me the most lavish and enormous bouquet on the table.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Alright, let’s all sit down,” Park Myunghoon said, gesturing awkwardly toward the seats.

Once seated, Professor Han turned to me. “How are you feeling?”

I knew she was referring to my hand, so I nodded.

“I think I’m okay now.”

I looked down at my hand.

Initially, it had trembled so violently that I’d considered canceling the performance. By the time the organ piece began on stage, it had stabilized. But near the end, it was trembling uncontrollably again.

Thankfully, by the time I finished conducting, it had returned to normal.

“I must’ve been a little worn out,” I said.

“Which is why I told you to practice in moderation,” she replied.

“That’s what I said too,” added Park Myunghoon. “This guy’s a workaholic. Even when he was learning to conduct, he gave it his all. Watching a genius work so hard—it’s something else. Honestly, why don’t you just keep learning conducting from me…?”

“Park Maestro,” Professor Han cut in with a glare.

“This time, I allowed it because Seojoon wanted it, but don’t forget—I’m his teacher,” she said firmly.

“Yes, yes, I know. But we should still hear what Seojoon thinks.”

The two exchanged stiff glances, their expressions somewhere between serious and forced.

It felt like déjà vu—this was just like a month ago.

Back then, I had shared my idea for the student music festival with Professor Han and told her about the performance I wanted.
After requesting to learn conducting from Park Myunghoon and meeting the two of them together, a similar situation had unfolded.

“You see, young man,” Park Myunghoon began, “think of the paths taken by genius musicians. Performing, composing, conducting—they do it all. To be honest, after watching you conduct today, you seemed… to be truly enjoying yourself. Am I wrong?”

At this, Professor Han faltered, unable to argue back.

She coughed lightly and turned to me.

“I still think it’s too early. But if that’s what Seojoon wants, I’ll respect it,” she said, though her eyes conveyed a silent plea: Don’t do it.

“Well, Seojoon, what do you think? Do you want to continue learning conducting from me in the future?”

The decision didn’t take long. No, there was no decision to make.

“I’m sorry.”

I bowed my head slightly.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m not ready. I haven’t even mastered the piano yet. Shifting my focus elsewhere now would feel arrogant.”

“Exactly!” Professor Han exclaimed with a bright smile, turning to Park Myunghoon. “You heard him, didn’t you?”

“Ahem… Well, geniuses should have a touch of arrogance…” he muttered, looking disappointed as he glanced back at me.

“I understand your stance,” he said. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it won’t take long for you to master the piano. I’ll be waiting. Conducting is the ultimate way to fully showcase your musicality.”

“Tsk, so persistent…” Professor Han grumbled beside him.

“Anyway,” I interjected, “thanks to both of you, everything went smoothly. I’m truly grateful.”

“No need to thank us. You’re my protégé now—this is the least I could do.”

“Um…”

Professor Han started to say something but stopped herself.

She turned her head, looking toward Choo Minji, who stood nearby with a camera.

“Are we still rolling?”

“Cut!” Choo Minji exclaimed, lowering the camera with a grin.

“It was a little stiff, but this will work.”

“Ugh…” Professor Han sighed, shaking her head. “The things I do for my students…”

“Haha, I actually found it quite fun,” said Park Myunghoon, winking at me.

“Remember, everything I said was genuine. Think it over carefully—I truly believe conducting is the pinnacle of music.”

“Yes, conductor.”

“Park Maestro, you do realize this is the third time we’re having this conversation, don’t you?”

“Alright, alright… geez.”

“Okay, everyone!”

Choo Minji clapped her hands once and stepped forward.

“We’re heading out now!”

“Seojoon, make sure to go to the hospital tomorrow. If anything comes up, call me,” Professor Han said.

“Yes, professor.”

“Seojoon, if you have time, maybe you could visit the church agai—”

“Just go already.”

I was practically shoved out of the dressing room by Professor Han, only to face yet another storm.

“Baekjung!”
“Mr. Baekjung, just a moment!”

People waiting in the hallway all called out to me at once.
From management representatives to music journalists, they scrambled to approach me.

“What’s your relationship with Kang Jisoo?”
“Is it true you’re planning to compete in the Chopin Competition in two years?”

The barrage of unverified questions was endless.
It seemed the sudden appearance of ABLEZ had these people worked into a frenzy.

Since the group had likely bolted from the venue, I had become their next best target.

“Step aside! Move!”

Choo Minji took the lead, clearing a path for me.

Following her repeated instructions, I kept my mouth shut and slipped past the crowd.

“What about Ducheol?”

“No idea! Where is that guy when you need him?”

We barely made it through the hallway packed with people and out to the lobby.

The moment we reached the lobby, an even larger crowd greeted us.

“Good grief…”

The aftermath of ABLEZ’s performance was far beyond what I had anticipated.
Rumor had it that news of their guerrilla concert here had spread like wildfire on social media.

While they sang two or three songs, crowds from the neighboring shopping mall and hotel had swarmed over.
My intent had simply been to make a bold statement while we were at it.
I hadn’t imagined ABLEZ’s popularity would be this overwhelming.

“Baekjung’s here!”

Apparently, the crowd had shifted its interest to me as a substitute for the group.

“Was this too reckless?”

“What? Reckless? This is genius, Baekjung!”

Choo Minji glanced at me with affectionate eyes before working to clear a path once more.
As she passed by people who recognized her, she even formed finger hearts with her hands.

“Choo~ Choo~” she chirped with an odd little chant.

The call cannot be connected… you will be redirected to voicemail… and call charges may apply.

Ducheol still wasn’t answering his phone.
This was the perfect moment for his endearing presence, but he was nowhere to be found.

“This guy, seriously…”

Though the crowd wasn’t physically grabbing at me, the noise they generated seemed to pierce through my earplugs, making my head hum.

I could barely process my surroundings as I pushed my way through.

Then, amidst the clamor, a voice filled with rage rang out.

“You bastard!”

I turned my head.

A man was forcing his way through the crowd toward me.
Disheveled hair, shabby attire, a flushed face reeking of alcohol…

…A teaching assistant from Korea University?

“Die!”

He thrust something toward me. Screams erupted from the crowd.

“Ahhh!”

*****

In the parking lot connected to the concert hall and the hotel, Kim Changsik and Park Deuksu were walking toward a parked car.

“Did he keep refusing?”

“Yes, Vice President. We’ve been offering since last year, but he won’t even agree to meet us.”

“Hmm, that kid would’ve been perfect… He’s still a minor, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Vice President.”

“Then find out about his parents and convince them.”

As they reached the car, Park Deuksu stepped forward and opened the backseat door.
Kim Changsik shrugged off his jacket and tossed it inside.

Just as he was about to get in, a heavy voice called out from nearby.

“Where are you off to, Changsik?”

Kim Changsik pulled his leg out of the car and frowned.
He turned to where the voice had come from.

A figure sat in the shadows, unmoving.

“…Who are you?”

Kim Changsik’s expression relaxed into a smirk, his cheekbones lifting as he chuckled.

“Did you come to see me? Is that you, Ducheol?”

The figure—Ma Ducheol—rose from his spot in the shadows and began walking toward them, one slow step at a time.

“Drop the smirk, you bastard. I’m here to take your head.”