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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Wooden Chopsticks
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"Wooden chopsticks... huh."
A laugh bubbled up before I knew it.
It was the same practice method from before my regression, on our first practice day together with Ji-woong.
Those memories came flooding back vividly, filling me with a strange sense of fondness.
"What, should I grab you some instant ramen too?"
Seeing me laugh, Ji-woong jumped to a wild misunderstanding all on his own and silently unwrapped the wooden chopsticks.
One, then two.
"Hold them vertically like this, lightly biting the ends with the corners of your lips."
I did as Ji-woong instructed, clamping the chopsticks between my molars on both sides.
It was a method Ji-woong had taught me before my regression, so it felt familiar, but I put on an innocent expression.
I knew exactly what to do, but times like this called for playing dumb and asking questions—to make the teacher happy.
"Eeth uh ah yer ah-eh? (What now?)"
"Cut the nonsense. You're drooling on the practice room floor."
The only problem was that my current mouth situation made it impossible to get the point across.
"Relax your tongue. Now say 'ahh' in that position. Stay conscious not to let the chopsticks touch your soft palate."
"Ah. Ah."
It had been over a decade since I'd done Ji-woong's training method, and it felt like long-forgotten memories were resurfacing.
"Got it?"
Following Ji-woong's order not to spout nonsense, I just nodded.
My body wasn't used to it yet, so it felt awkward at first, but I quickly nailed the oral setup he described.
"Okay. Now sing a song lightly. Relax your whole body. The song... School bell ding-dong-dang."
At Ji-woong's cue, I started singing.
My throat felt forcibly pried wide open, and garbled sounds spilled out.
"Ah-oh oh-ee ah-eh-eh eo-oh oh-ee-ah"
"Ignore the mushy pronunciation. Keep going."
Even though my lips couldn't meet and no real pronunciation was possible, I kept singing.
With my mouth unable to close, saliva dripped in streams.
Ji-woong, who had griped about the drool on the floor, paid it no mind now and focused solely on my chopstick-stuffed mouth and the sounds coming out.
"The sensation of sound and vibration hitting your hard palate. Find that feeling."
As Ji-woong said, I produced sound while carefully ensuring my tongue didn't touch the chopsticks.
I raised and lowered my tongue, tightened and released my stubborn throat, until the moment it truly opened.
Finally, I hit the point where the resonance kicked in.
"Now!"
Ji-woong caught it the instant he heard the sound—I'd gotten the feel.
He rose quietly from his seat and zeroed in on the garbled song filling the narrow practice room.
I'd only just grasped it myself, but somehow his ears picked it up right away.
Ghostly ears, for real.
"...That's it. Yeah."
Huh Ji-woong muttered softly, brow furrowed tight.
Normally, this would've been the perfect moment to chew out Do-hyun for sitting there with chopsticks jammed in his mouth.
Hold that feeling now, that sensation—don't lose it, keep concentrating.
I'd loaded up a ton of nagging for exactly this, but there was no need.
Do-hyun was gripping that resonance sensation on his own without letting go, so it wasn't my place to step in.
Finding his own resonance point that quickly, and holding onto it while maintaining it—flawless training, no complaints.
"That's enough. Good work."
We spent a while like that, gradually upping the song difficulty while drilling how to find the resonance point and hold onto that resonant sensation.
How much time passed?
By the time the once-rigid wooden chopsticks had gone all mushy, Ji-woong pulled the saliva-soaked ones from my mouth himself, ending the session.
Ji-woong, who'd fussed over drool on the floor, looked totally unbothered by the slobber running off the chopsticks.
"Not bad. Good instincts."
And that wasn't all.
I jumped at the words Ji-woong tossed out with a quick tilt of his head.
Still dripping with his signature prickliness, but that was huge praise—massive, really.
Before my regression, it took weeks to earn even one of those.
And yet, back then when I couldn't even get it right, Ji-woong had refused to let me go, holding on and dragging me along—that memory surfaced.
Seeing Ji-woong's hand clenched tight around the chopsticks drenched in my saliva hit me right in the chest again.
Aging was scary stuff.
"...Teacher. My lips hurt so bad."
If I tried saying thanks, I might actually cry.
Better to fake a whine about the pain than shed tears.
*Thonk*
"Wimp."
Even the light head-bonk with the stick felt good.
Maybe I wouldn't need to practice dodging after all.
"Keep that sensation you felt today in mind at all times. Without the chopsticks, you'll forget it fast. I can supply unlimited chopsticks, so do short drills like this every day."
"Yes. I'll do it daily."
Ji-woong narrowed his brow at his disciple, who grinned like an idiot despite the head-bonk.
"Finding resonance is basic of the basics. No need to get all happy over some praise. Kids show up here having mastered it properly beforehand left and right."
"Got it. Basic of the basics. I'll perfect it and bring it back soon."
At my persistently upbeat attitude and reply, Ji-woong finally flashed a faint smile.
"Practice ends here for today."
"Huh? Already?"
I glanced at the wall clock.
Resonance practice had wrapped up quick, so I'd figured we could jump straight into the next drill.
Instead of answering, Ji-woong plopped down in a chair.
"What. You wanna keep going?"
"We've got time left..."
"Cool it. You need to baby that voice. Practice volume's gonna be low for a while. Sit, for now."
I sat obediently at his firm tone.
"Even once you get used to finding resonance, your vocal cords aren't just weak—your whole body's got no power."
Ji-woong nodded toward my scrawny arm.
No denying it: not only my naturally feeble vocal cords, but my overall physique was subpar.
"Take it slow. Train your vocal cords gradually. They're the most precious, sensitive things."
Ji-woong was spot on.
I'd learned that the hard way, regretting it bitterly at thirty-three because I hadn't taken it slow.
"I get how you feel. Wanna grow fast, nail it quick—who doesn't? You're antsy."
Seeing me lost in thought with no reply, replaying past screw-ups, Ji-woong must've read it wrong and spoke gently.
Even his rare soft tone was tough to hear, so my face must've looked deathly serious.
"No need to be antsy at all. That's the best perk of your age."
I'd heard this one before.
Endlessly childish back then, I hadn't fully grasped what it meant.
Which was why I'd chased fast growth the wrong way right after graduation.
Now I knew, bone-deep, how vital and heavy those words were—better than anyone.
"Yes. I'll remember."
Before regression, I had no talent or experience compared to the others, so I never caught any teacher's eye.
That made me even more desperate, pushing reckless practice.
Every time, Ji-woong had held me back with those words.
Everyone feels that way at your age—don't be impatient.
Back then, drowning in feelings of falling behind, his words went in one ear and out the other.
Things were different now.
Leveraging my musical actor experience, I'd snagged second in prelim evals and earned some recognition from various teachers.
Yet Ji-woong hadn't changed a bit, saying the exact same things.
Ji-woong really was a teacher who put his students first.
"Musicals are never easy."
Musicals.
Some might call them simply acting through song.
That straightforward definition might even be spot-on.
But the process? Anything but simple.
Musical actors have to act while singing, dance while acting, pour emotion into the dance.
One instant of slack in the vocal cords wrecks the acting and dance; one lax moment in the body tanks acting and song. That's musicals.
A split-second lapse strains the cords; a tiny mistake brings physical injury.
Balance is everything in a comprehensive art fusing so many elements.
"I never think they're easy. That's part of why I love them."
I shot back at Ji-woong's resolve-testing words with assurance I was ready.
Hoping he'd acknowledge my determination, even a little.
Yeah, I wanted quick success.
But after holding out over a decade, folding after three more years was ridiculous.
I'd build properly over these three high school years with Huh Ji-woong—for a long, thick musical career.
"Sheesh. Talking like it's your second life or whatever. You've barely lived seventeen years."
His sharp words hit home; I forced an awkward haha laugh.
Ji-woong was as perceptive as ever.
Couldn't very well say yeah, second round, so I just kept laughing.
"Hope that mindset sticks."
With that, Ji-woong grabbed a thick, dictionary-like book from the corner desk.
What the—? I stared, body going rigid.
Why'd I forget about this.
The nightmare I'd blanked on crept back as Ji-woong handed it over.
"Nothing matters more to a musical actor's body than core."
The book from Ji-woong weighed a ton.
What even is this? I flipped it to see the cover—an English medical textbook, the kind for med school, hardcover full-color no less.
"Put it on your stomach and do 500 short vocalizations."
"Five hundred..."
"Every day."
"Every... day..."
My vision swam.
One more reminder why Ji-woong passed as the hardass teacher at Cheongyeom Arts High.
"Skip even one day, and it's a weekend round-trip run to Bulgok Mountain summit. With me, start to finish."
Right. This was it. No escaping this.
His "every day" wasn't just talk.
He'd make you video it on your phone for daily checks—meticulous to the end.
High school days, I'd wanted to smash my phone more times than I could count.
"Got it. Then I'll head out."
I nodded hard at Ji-woong's words and bolted up from my seat.
If escape was impossible anyway, dodge the worst-case right now.
But
"Hey. Where do you think you're going? We start here today."
A heavy, no-bullshit voice boomed from behind—Ji-woong, unrelenting.
Cold sweat broke out.
Getting nabbed here spelled disaster, but starting today? No issue.
This drill could wait till back at the dorm.
But caught here by Huh Ji-woong now? Things would get messy.
I knew he'd nix any counts if form slipped even a hair.
"Five hundred" was just talk—ended up near a thousand more often than not.
Days we did this with Ji-woong, my abs would ache so bad next day I could barely breathe.
"Teacher. I'm serious. Better to start after centering body and mind at the dorm."
"Lee Do-hyun. Didn't peg you for a hiking fan."
Silently, I lay right at Ji-woong's feet and slapped the breathless-weight book on my abs.
My last-ditch flail, knowing full well that hike was worse.
He didn't stop at hiking—threw every damn thing at you—so end it here.
"Body and mind can center during the training, right?"
Fine, since I'd regressed, time to change.
Gotta appreciate even this training.
I started the drill to Ji-woong's calls.
Hadn't hit ten reps, and my abs cramped.
This... ain't right.