41 – turning point (2) 41.
"No, I mean—this song…"
Taeyoung opened his mouth, then abruptly closed it.
He'd started talking, but how the hell was he supposed to explain this feeling? He hesitated, then tried again.
"So this is…"
Once more, his words got stuck.
After that, he repeated, "No, I mean, like, it's just—" two or three more times.
It definitely hit him hard. He felt something, but didn't know how to put it into words.
Hajun frowned at his fumbling.
"No, look, I mean, like—"
"Goddammit!"
Taeyoung finally exploded with a curse, then glared irritably at Hajun.
Hajun blinked. "Why the hell are you swearing, idiot?"
"How can I not swear?! Why—why do you only make songs like this?!"
"Why? Is it trash?"
At that, Taeyoung went speechless.
Trash? Trash?
Was that really what he just asked? Did this bastard not have ears? Was he cursed to be unable to evaluate his own songs?
"If it was trash, I wouldn't even bother cursing!"
"Huh?"
"Why is it another song for female vocals?!"
With that, Taeyoung flopped flat onto the floor.
The song Hajun had just made was clearly meant for a female singer. The progression, the subtle pitch handling—it was obvious.
And that pissed him off.
If you were going to make a song for female vocals, then at least make a bad one. Or make a second version for male vocals.
If the song was awful, he wouldn't even want it.
But it was insanely good, and that made it worse.
He wanted to beg Hajun to rearrange it into a male version, but the problem was that forcing it into a male key would kill the entire feel of the song.
A female-to-male rearrangement wasn't just transposing the pitch. You'd have to rebuild everything—tone, delivery, vocal placement—and then the magic of the original would be gone.
This song needed a pure, crystal-clear voice. If he sang it, it would clash.
He hated that.
He wanted this song to stay perfect. He wanted to hear it done right.
He already knew how amazing it was after hearing it once. He'd already become a fan of it.
And that made it even more infuriating.
"Damn it! Give me a song too! You said you would! Why is it another girl song?!"
Still lying on the floor, Taeyoung flailed his arms and legs like a child throwing a tantrum.
It was such an eyesore that just watching made Hajun's eyes sting. What the hell was this guy doing at his age?
If Han Goyo or Jin Sohyang acted like this, at least it would be kind of cute.
(And why exclude Suyeon? Because Suyeon would never do something this stupid.)
"Song! Give me a song!"
Taeyoung dug around on the practice room floor, not even caring if his uniform got dirty.
Hajun let out a sigh. "Fine. Let's work on one."
"…What?"
Taeyoung froze mid-flail, then shot upright.
"For real?"
"Yeah. Let's start your song now."
Actually, it was perfect timing. Hajun wanted to work anyway.
"I'm feeling good right now."
Ever since that inspiration hit, his head felt clear. Like he could have fun working on anything right now.
(Of course, once the real work began, it would turn painful, like always.)
"Don't you have to finish this song? And didn't you say you had something for the festival?" Taeyoung asked.
"I don't think I need to touch this one."
Did he really need to? If he kept the current structure and filled out the melody with richer instrumentation, it would be enough. That was his honest assessment.
Taeyoung agreed. "True."
The song was flawless—hard to believe it was just a sketch.
That was why he wanted it even more. If this was the draft, how insane would the finalized version be?
And most of all, this song felt completely different from any of Hajun's previous work. How would he finish it?
Just imagining it made Taeyoung's heart race.
"Anyway, I've got time to work on at least one more song," Hajun said.
"In that case—"
Taeyoung nodded. He could finally get the song he'd been waiting for.
And yet… he didn't feel entirely excited.
He knew exactly why.
"So, let's hear your story," Hajun said.
There it was.
His story.
To receive a song, he had to talk about it—the story he'd never told anyone.
Of course, he'd planned to tell Hajun one day, but he didn't think today would be that day.
Taeyoung let out a short sigh and stared at his left wrist.
It was summer—short-sleeve uniform season. But Taeyoung was wearing the long-sleeve winter shirt. He had special permission from the school to wear it.
He looked at his covered wrist, then began to speak.
"How much do you actually know about me?"
"About you?"
"I mean, about pianist Kim Taeyoung."
"…Well. I've heard you were some kind of prodigy. A genius. Stuff like that."
Taeyoung snorted softly, then nodded as if it was nothing special.
"That's not quite it. I wasn't just a prodigy or a genius. At my age, I was the final boss. If I entered a competition, the other kids would get depressed immediately."
He said it casually, but it wasn't bragging.
In the piano world, Taeyoung had been a monster. Countless people had pinned their hopes on him, and he always met those expectations.
Not just domestically—internationally too.
By eighth grade, at just fourteen, he was recognized by the world's top pianists. They said his playing could heal people.
If things had continued, he undoubtedly would have—
"It was last spring. There was this huge competition," Taeyoung said. "My dad said he'd take me to the airport. He was super busy, but he still offered."
His voice dipped slightly.
"I was happy. He'd never taken me himself before."
Then Taeyoung paused.
"But that's when the accident happened."
He rolled up his left sleeve and revealed a massive scar—one that made your stomach twist just looking at it.
He had never shown this to anyone before.
Taeyoung stared at it briefly, then slowly rolled the sleeve back down.
Then he looked at Hajun.
What kind of reaction would he show?
Pity?
Concern?
Would he say, Stay strong?
"So?" Hajun simply asked.
No change in expression. No pity. Just those usual lazy eyes, watching him.
Taeyoung smiled.
That consideration was deeply appreciated. Pity or sympathy would have hurt more.
"My left wrist and fingers were wrecked," Taeyoung said. "They did surgery, so I can live normally, but…"
"So you can't play piano anymore?"
"Well, I can manage a light electronic keyboard. But anything from an upright piano and above is too much. A grand piano is obviously impossible."
He said it casually, but his expression wasn't casual at all. As he spoke, his face twisted slightly, like someone remembering a painful first love.
He was suffering.
"So I had to quit piano. At first, I thought it'd be fine. Honestly, I was exhausted. I figured I'd rest a bit and think about things."
Taeyoung's voice went quieter.
"But when it really came time to quit… I got terrified."
Terrified.
Hajun knew exactly what that felt like.
Back then, Taeyoung had been in ninth grade—barely sixteen. But he'd lived his entire life through piano. Piano was his life.
If he quit, what would be left?
Of course he'd be scared.
It was the same reason Hajun couldn't quit music in his previous life. Since childhood, he'd given up everything—school, a normal life—for music.
If he quit, what would remain? And how could he face his mom and Suyeon, who believed in him?
The fear paralyzed him. He didn't have the courage to give up, and because of that, he ruined everything.
But Taeyoung was different.
"I didn't know what to do," Taeyoung said. "I wandered. Then my piano teacher suggested singing."
He let out a small breath, as if shaking off the memory.
"I always liked singing, and karaoke was my hobby, so I thought… why not? That's how I ended up at Seolwon Arts."
Hearing that, Hajun let out a deep breath.
Incredible.
He, with no talent, had clung to music out of stubbornness and pride.
But Taeyoung—even after his immense talent was destroyed—had quickly found another path.
"That's basically my story," Taeyoung finished, forcing an awkward smile.
Saying it out loud made him feel a little lighter.
Of course, he didn't say everything.
And Hajun knew that.
The guilt of a father who caused the accident that ruined his child's future. The despair of losing his brilliant talent.
Taeyoung didn't mention any of it.
But it was obvious. The faint tremor hidden in Taeyoung's ever-cheerful face made it clear how much he'd suffered.
"So? Did it give you inspiration or whatever?" Taeyoung asked.
Even now, he refused to show weakness. He grinned like always and tried to joke it off.
Hajun answered, "Not quite inspiration… but I do have a song that fits you."
"Oh? Can I look forward to it?"
"I can't promise."
"Eh? Why?! I even told you my life story!"
"This is a song I started before… but gave up on."
Taeyoung blinked.
Hajun had once experienced a fragment of inspiration—not a complete idea like now, just a few lines of melody.
He'd tried desperately to complete it back then, but he'd failed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't write it in a way he could sing himself, because back then, he wrote songs for himself, not others.
But if it was Taeyoung singing…
Maybe those fragments could finally come alive.
And somehow, it felt like now he could finish the song he couldn't complete back then.
"I'll give it a try," Hajun said.
"Alright. I believe in you."
"I believe in you."
Such simple words.
Hajun nodded.
After that day, my schedule was set.
I worked on Suyeon's song. I planned out instrumentation to enrich the inspired melody. And I wrote Taeyoung's song.
I'd only been enjoying a brief calm, and now I was ridiculously busy again.
But I didn't mind.
Ever since that inspiration hit, everything flowed so easily.
Before, I had to prepare everything from one to a hundred and then carve it down. Now, if I made it to fifty, the rest became clear.
My workload was practically cut in half.
And in between working, I occasionally went to the main building to look at the painting again—the one that inspired me.
By second-year art student Seoah.
Titled 'Unrestrained.'
"You seriously like this painting that much?" Taeyoung asked as he followed me there again today.
I nodded honestly. "It just… hits me. Hard."
"Not really. I don't get it."
"Really? I feel it like crazy."
"Weird bastard."
I didn't know how to explain it, but every time I saw it, my head felt clear. Like splashing ice-cold water on my face when I was sleepy.
"Why not just go meet the artist?" Taeyoung asked.
"I don't really feel the need."
I was a fan of this painting, not necessarily the person who painted it. Honestly, I didn't even want to see their other work.
What if it was disappointing?
"I'll stick with the mystery."
"So, how's the work going?" Taeyoung asked.
"Not bad."
I nodded.
The most important project—Suyeon's song—was nearly finished. And I didn't mean a rough sketch. I meant the arrangement.
The more I worked on it, the more convinced I became.
Suyeon would make this song perfect, and she would absolutely dominate the festival.
"Sorry, man," Taeyoung said.
"For what?" I glanced at him.
He wasn't talking about his Blue Aka work getting buried under Suyeon's. That couldn't be helped. He got it.
"Wait—you didn't ruin my song, did you?"
"That's not it."
I'd only just started his song. I had the core melody ready, but figuring out how to bring it to life was hard.
"So what genre is my song?" he asked.
"Rock ballad."
"Hm."
"You don't like it?"
"It's not that. I just wondered why rock ballad."
"Because that genre shows off your vocals best."
Taeyoung's biggest strength was his powerful, explosive voice. Rock ballads made that shine.
"Oh, hold on."
My phone buzzed.
Who would text me at this hour? It wouldn't be Han Goyo. Maybe Sohyang?
"…It's Suyeon."
Unexpected.
Why would Suyeon text me right now?
I quickly opened the message.
[Oppa, help me!]
"…?"
I blinked.
Help?
With what?
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