No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 009. On the Way to School (3)

At a café near the school, I sat with my family and Professor Han.
The four of us remained mostly silent, and our untouched coffee had gone cold.

“It’s fortunate that everything worked out, Kevin,” Professor Han said, breaking the silence.

I replied flatly, “Thanks to you.”

The punishment that started with a threat of expulsion had been reduced to community service.
It was another reminder of the power of influence over fists.

Jung Sangho and Kang Jungsook—no, my parents—remained quiet, having thanked the professor once and then falling into silence.

“Kevin, I think it’s time for you to have a proper conversation with your parents. I’ll take my leave now,” the professor said as she rose.

“I understand.”

“We’ll arrange the lesson schedule by phone. Mr. and Mrs. Jung, it was nice seeing you again.”

“Yes…”
“Take care…”

After Professor Han bowed politely and left the café, I turned to face my parents, watching as they sighed deeply.

“As I mentioned earlier, I made an arrangement with Professor Han—or rather, I asked her for a favor. I needed her help,” I explained.

Professor Han’s husband was the head of Korea’s largest law firm.
When investigating Kevin Jung’s life, I’d learned about the firm, and during my time as Baek Jinsung, I’d even used their services. I knew how capable they were.

That’s why I trusted Professor Han and deliberately caused a commotion.
I knew she wanted me as her student, and I leveraged that to create a situation where my mother couldn’t refuse her help.

I felt guilty for forcing my mother into this, but I wanted to return to music that badly.

“As a condition for her assistance, I agreed to become her student again.”

“Se-Seojoon…” my mother stammered, her lips trembling.
My father, sitting beside her, sipped his cold coffee in silence.

I could see the worry etched on their faces. What were they so afraid of?
What could have happened that made them oppose me—a child with natural talent—pursuing music?

Whatever the case, I needed to take my shot.

“As you know, I’ve lost many of my memories.”

At this, my mother nodded anxiously.

“I know… which is why this is even more…”

“But there’s one thing I clearly remember,” I interrupted, locking eyes with her.

She looked startled, but I continued.

“The feel of piano keys beneath my fingers. The emotions I felt when listening to music. The countless scores stored in my mind… It’s clear how much I loved music.”

It wasn’t so much a memory as it was a sensation, but I believed it was something etched into this body’s very being.

“And I’m not who I used to be.”

This was a sensitive issue, and I softened my tone, smiling faintly as I reached across the table to take my mother’s hand.

“…”

She stared at her hand under mine for a moment before speaking slowly.

“Then… can you tell me? No, can you explain to me what happened? The changes in you? How did you…”

Before I could answer, my father spoke for the first time.

“That’s enough. He did well.”

“…What?”

“I’m relieved. No, I’m actually grateful.”

He placed his hand firmly over mine, which still rested on my mother’s.

“I’ve thought about it a hundred, a thousand times. I wished you’d become the aggressor rather than the victim. I know it’s a terrible thought, but… I was desperate.”

Victim?
Was Jung Seojoon a victim of school violence, too?

“I won’t ask what happened to you. Instead, my son, I only ask that you stay alive. Stay with us. If you want to pursue music, do it. Whatever comes of it, we’ll bear the consequences.”

Hearing this, my mother began to cry again.

My father silently patted her back.

And their hands never let go of mine.

They were warm.
Their hands, their hearts.

Is this what it feels like to have parents?

Though I hadn’t spent much time with them, it was clear how deeply they loved and cared for me—for their son.

Maybe that’s why I felt a wave of warmth surge through my chest, only to subside, leaving me calm and steady.

It was the same feeling I’d had when I first recognized this body’s musical instincts.

“I promise you. There’s nothing you need to worry about,” I said softly.

……

“Damn it…”

I sat alone in the café, clutching my head.

I’d played it cool, but I was facing a huge problem.

The settlement money.

I’m an adult.
I solve my own problems.

Professor Han had offered to help, but I refused.

I would accept social support, but not financial assistance. I knew all too well how money could complicate things.

“Ugh… What do I do about this?”

My parents already worried about money every day; I didn’t want to add to their burden.

“Maybe I should just tell Junsoo the truth…”

There was enough of an inheritance for this, wasn’t there?

“…Sigh.”

The more I thought about it, the less dignified I felt.

“By the way, why isn’t she here yet?”

As if on cue, the café door opened, and Choo Minji walked in.

The moment she saw me, she clicked her tongue loudly, shaking her finger with exaggerated disapproval.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

She approached, still shaking her finger in my face.

“Cut it out.”

“Hmph.”

Ignoring my protest, she sat down across from me, continuing to wag her finger.

“You’ve done this to your hands, and you call yourself a musician?”

Choo Minji scrunched her face as she looked at my bandaged hands resting on the table.

“It’ll heal in a day if I apply some ointment,” I replied.

“Ugh, acting all tough is so annoying… Are all thugs like this?”

“Haha.”

Suddenly curious, I asked, “Aren’t you scared of me?”

“What? You’ve been watching too many dramas. It’s annoying. Actually, scratch that—you’re annoying but good-looking, so I’ll allow it.”

She laughed at her own comment.
The more I watched her, the more I realized how amusing she was as a person.
Not that I saw her as a woman.

Even though I was in a younger body, that hadn’t changed.
I always found it unsettling when dramas portrayed older men who accidentally became younger falling in love with high school girls.
It’s gross, to put it bluntly.

“Oh, right!”

Choo Minji suddenly pulled a thick envelope from the pocket of her uniform.

“Take this first.”

“What’s this?”

“What else? It’s payment for the video.”

YouTube?

I’d heard her channel was doing well, but I wasn’t expecting much as I opened the envelope out of curiosity.

How much could a video possibly earn?

“…”

“What’s with that face? Is it too little? You said we’d split it fifty-fifty.”

“…Minji noona.”

“Wh-what? Why are you calling me noona all of a sudden? Just so you know, we agreed on an even split for the profits—”

“I love you.”

I’d found a way to pay off the settlement.

And beyond that, perhaps a way to help my parents.

……

“Where are we going?”

“To visit someone.”

“At a hospital this big? Who is it?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“Come on, you should at least tell your girlfriend.”

“Quit joking.”

“What? You’re dumping me just an hour after confessing?”

“I didn’t confess. I was kidding.”

I really was kidding. It wasn’t just because I was happy about the money. Really.

“Ugh, fine. I’m canceling our YouTube partnership.”

“…What do you want?”

“Money? A bigger cut?”

Ignoring her teasing gesture of rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, I entered the hospital.

True to its reputation as one of the top five hospitals in the country, the building was grand.
The atrium stretched upward, and the hospital seemed endless.

The spacious lobby was filled with the sound of music.

Following the sound, I turned to see a crowd and a large banner hanging above them:

“The FunFun Chamber Orchestra and Shinhwa Card Present: A Traveling Concert”

“Oh, it’s FunFun,” Choo Minji remarked.

“Are they famous?”

“Yeah. You’ve heard of the National School of Arts, right?”

“Yes, the NSOA.”

The NSOA, along with Korea University, was known as one of the top music schools in the country.
I knew about it well, having once been approached for a business collaboration related to it.

“That orchestra was founded by the head of NSOA’s music department, and most of its members are NSOA students.”

“Chamber” means “room,” referring to an orchestra designed for indoor performances.
Unlike the larger orchestras people usually think of, which have 70 to 120 members, chamber orchestras typically consist of 10 to 30 musicians.

“Although, to call this a chamber orchestra is a stretch; it’s pretty big. Are you even listening?”

“Yes, yes.”

I responded absentmindedly, captivated by the perfect harmony filling my ears.

Despite the less-than-ideal setting for music, the exceptional skill and tone of the performers made up for everything.

Still, I noticed one flaw.
Each individual was brilliant, but they seemed slightly out of sync with one another.

Of course, that was just my opinion.

I followed Choo Minji through the crowd, squeezing closer until I could see the entire orchestra.

At the center was an older conductor with white hair, his eyes closed as he waved his baton, fully immersed in the music.

Next to me, Choo Minji began explaining how accomplished he was, but her words barely registered.

I couldn’t focus on anything except the conductor’s gestures.

“Oh… What an interpretation of that section…”

Soon, the orchestra reached its intermission.

With the performance paused, I finally noticed the other musicians.

“Wait…”

Seated at the back of the second violin section was a familiar face.

Kim Bom.

The moment I recognized her, Choo Minji nudged me.

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Her dad’s connections are insane. Her skills are so-so, but, well… she’s already part of the NSOA chamber orchestra, so that says it all.”

“Hm.”

While it was impressive, I wasn’t particularly interested.

What did it matter if her father had influence? In music, personal skill was what truly mattered.

As I waited for the intermission to end, my ears caught a quiet conversation between the conductor and the concertmaster.

“Not yet?”
“I’m sorry… Not yet.”

The conductor’s quiet but firm voice reached my ears, thanks to the heightened sensitivity of this body.

“I won’t tolerate mistakes on my stage. If this continues, I’ll have to speak with the dean.”

The concertmaster, returning to her seat, made a phone call.

“Mr. Woochul, where are you right now? We’ve already delayed the concerto… Ah, I see… Alright then.”

Hanging up, she gestured for Kim Bom to come over.

“Yes, unnie?”

“Didn’t I tell you to relay the details clearly to the soloist?”

“I did relay them properly.”

“Then why is Mr. Woochul at Shinhwa Hospital in Gangnam instead of here? He said you told him that.”

“That’s not true. He’s lying.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“If you’re just a parachute hire, act like one and keep your head down. Honestly, does it make sense for someone with your skills to be here? If not for your dad’s sponsorship, you wouldn’t even come close.”

“…I don’t even want to be here.”

“What did you just say? Say that again.”

The concertmaster jabbed Kim Bom in the upper chest with her finger.

Kim Bom grimaced and glared at her.

“What’s with that look? Not going to see me anymore?”

At this, Kim Bom bit her lower lip and averted her gaze.

As the growing tension between them drew the attention of the crowd, another orchestra member stepped in to separate the two.

“What’s going on here?” Choo Minji muttered to herself.

“Seems like someone didn’t show up,” I replied.

“Huh? How do you know?”

“Just a feeling.”

Even as time passed, the intermission didn’t end.

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and a few patients and their families began leaving to return to their rooms.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

I picked up a discarded pamphlet left behind by one of the departing patients.

The second half of the program was themed “Rachmaninoff.”

He was hailed as one of the greatest pianists and composers of the recording era, beloved by pianists worldwide.

As expected, the centerpiece of the second half was a piano concerto.

I scanned the stage, noticing the grand piano set up next to the conductor’s podium, but the soloist was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, looks like the soloist isn’t coming. This pianist was doing pretty well lately, too. What a shame,” Choo Minji said, lightly tapping her upper lip with her fingertip. She placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, gangster.”

“What now?”

“This is perfect for YouTube.”

“What is?”

“Don’t play dumb. You should do the performance.”

“What?”

That’s ridiculous.

Classical music isn’t like pop. Everyone has to synchronize their tempo and pitch.
And this isn’t a small group—it’s a chamber orchestra with over thirty members. Getting an unrehearsed soloist to perform on stage is impossible.

“That’s absurd.”

“Come on, did you forget who you are? You’re Kevin, aren’t you? All you’d have to do is mention that… Although, I guess it might be a bit rude to Professor Han.”

She seemed to be interpreting the situation differently, thinking of the connections and “lines” that defined the music world.

The massive hospital lobby, once packed, had begun to clear out.
The conductor finally lowered his baton and stepped off the podium, retreating to the waiting area backstage.

I decided to leave and handle my own business, but my phone buzzed in my pocket.

The caller was Kim Bom.

I answered immediately.

“What?”

“Help me.”

“With what?”

“You said you’d owe me one after helping me get into Baek Junsoo’s house. Today’s the day.”

“What are you talking about—”

I turned to look at the stage and caught her eyes.
Her gaze was slightly red and filled with urgency.

“Pass the phone to Minji unnie.”

I handed the phone to Choo Minji.

“Here.”

“Who is it?”

“Kim Bom.”

“Tch.”

Choo Minji frowned but took the call.

After a brief conversation, she hung up and turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, gangster, Bom says you need to go to the front desk and borrow a patient gown under the name Kim Sungsoo.”

“What? Who’s Kim Sungsoo?”

“The hospital director. Bom’s dad. Anyway, hurry up!”

Before I could process her words, Choo Minji dashed toward the backstage waiting area, leaving me to figure out what was going on.