-17-
Because he had a premonition that perhaps he might never be able to do it again, Bunhong, who had been speaking pessimistically, hung his head deeply.
Words each have their own traces. The words of people pointing fingers at him, saying he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t become anything, reeked of malice.
However, the source of that smell that made them like that was ultimately himself as well.
Like when he had held the microphone, his fingertips began to tremble. That was the moment. Hangeul wrapped Bunhong’s hands, which had already started trembling just at the thought of singing, with his own hands and said:
“It’s okay.”
His hands were already large enough to encompass both of Bunhong’s hands with just one, and the warmth was gentle.
“…”
Since the repertoire that would follow the preface that it would be okay was predictable, Bunhong didn’t expect much. That kind of phobia isn’t a big deal. You can easily overcome it, that’s what he would say.
“Just thinking about singing makes me this miserable, and I even saw illusions of everyone pointing fingers and laughing at me, so how?”
To hold back from wanting to immediately retort like that, Bunhong bit his lips tightly. The reason he couldn’t do that was because of one completely unexpected word from Hangeul.
“At least right now, there are only the two of us here.”
“…”
“I’ll listen to you.”
Was that what you were afraid of? The man’s eyes were asking that.
And in fact, that was the correct answer. The reason Bunhong had feared the people cursing at him was because it was painful to face the fact that they turned away from him.
“Maybe I actually needed someone to listen.”
Because songs that no one listens to eventually become talking to yourself.
Like stroking an abandoned puppy, Hangeul slowly raised his other hand over Bunhong’s head and carefully swept his hair back. At that single gesture, tears welled up in Bunhong’s eyes, and he hastily changed the subject.
“Could I try playing the piano instead?”
Whether his interest in music was real, there were quite a few different instruments in the studio besides the guitar, and among them, the piano was the only one Kim Bunhong could play.
When he said he would play piano instead of singing, perhaps realizing he was avoiding it, Hangeul’s expression became sulky.
“Then when we meet next time, you’ll definitely sing for me, right?”
Wanting to appease his mood, Bunhong obediently nodded and said:
“…I understand.”
It was amazing how he was confident there would be a next time between them when they had only known each other for so long. Usually, Bunhong wouldn’t have so easily promised a next meeting with a strange outsider like flowing water, but somehow he didn’t want to disappoint the person in front of him.
To be precise, the hands still wrapping around him, hands full of calluses from handling instruments.
After threatening that he would definitely listen within a short time no matter when next would be, Hangeul smiled softly and whispered quietly:
“It’s pretty. Bunhong-ssi’s voice.”
“…”
“I think it would be even prettier if you sang.”
“…”
His face burned at the sudden compliment, but Bunhong couldn’t directly tell Hangeul “Please don’t say such things…” and just thought it inwardly. It was the first compliment about his voice.
“My voice is pretty.”
Even though it was an ordinary voice without any special characteristics. A weak and frail voice that was just perfect for filling in the empty parts here and there.
It was similar to Lee Hanbit’s voice, but the evaluations Kim Bunhong received were distinctly different from his.
Looking around at the instruments in the studio, Hangeul said to Bunhong:
“By the way, there’s only an electric piano, is that okay?”
“That’s fine.”
“Then I’ll play guitar, so want to try playing along?”
Watching the man scrunch his nose and make a happy expression like a boy, saying he wanted to try ensemble playing, Bunhong also smiled along while placing his fingers on the keyboard.
* * *
“It’s been a while, but no greeting. Rude bastard.”
“…”
“You’re doing well these days? Jeong Ido.”
“…”
Ignoring the person who tapped him mockingly as they passed, Ido silently continued walking.
Angered by that sight, the other person turned around, blocked his path, and rushed at him. Despite having his collar grabbed, Ido’s face remained expressionless without moving. Nothing changed except his skin, paler than most people’s, turning whiter.
Eventually, profanities poured into Jeong Ido’s ears.
“Hey. You bastard. What makes you so great that you, hey, treat people like passing street dogs and live ignoring them like that!!”
Ido, who had been rummaging in his pocket without caring at all whether someone grabbed his collar or not, let out a deep sigh.
“Huh.”
“I’m out of cigarettes.”
Seeing emotion change on Jeong Ido’s face for the first time, the man who firmly mistook it for being because of the collar he grabbed continued speaking with a triumphant expression.
The man who had paused momentarily while watching Ido’s brow furrow subtly, spat out angry words again.
“Do you know how difficult it was for us when you disappeared like that? Huh? Don’t you!”
At the malice-filled words pouring from him, Ido smiled slightly and answered:
“Yes. I’m listening, so please continue.”
The man’s anger was somewhat soothed by Ido’s polite manner of speaking. But seeing the subsequent sneer, the man’s eyes flipped and he shouted:
“Is this funny to you?”
“…”
Taking that as provocation against himself, the excited man swung his fist at Jeong Ido’s face. His lip split and blood droplets quickly formed.
Perhaps flustered even though he had hit him, the man who had been backing away while looking at the wound hesitated and muttered:
“Shit…”
Finding that pathetic sight worth watching for a moment, Ido walked toward him with big steps. Naturally, their positions contrasted with just before, and this time Ido cornered the man like a cat chasing a mouse.
Despite being much shorter than himself, the man unconsciously swallowed his saliva at the inexplicable sense of intimidation he felt from Jeong Ido.
A dry voice flowed from Ido’s mouth as he looked up at him. Since a fishy scent rose every time he opened his mouth, he frowned slightly and asked:
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The man, who had once been Ido’s colleague, said in a trembling voice:
“You… you…”
“The music I made, I mean.”
“…”
When no answer came, Ido smiled quietly.
“Hyung. You fucking bastard.”
“…!”
“This is the last time I’ll treat you like a hyung, so listen properly.”
When Ido’s eyes flashed for a moment and looked at him with murderous intent, the man who made direct eye contact with him stiffened slightly but didn’t stop struggling to the end.
“You bastard. Even after doing this…!”
Bang! This time it was Jeong Ido who gained the upper hand. Ido, who kicked the wall behind the man with his foot while grabbing his collar, whispered into his ear:
“No matter what you babble, I’m going to rise up.”
“What can someone like you do?”
“You’re at the bottom, that’s what I mean. You’re out.”
“…”
“Is it that hard to cleanly settle our relationship? Honestly, I think I’m being very generous at this point. Should I ask you to return all the songs of mine you stole before too?”
You don’t even know to avoid dirty things. So clueless.
Hearing those words, cold sweat began flowing down the man’s back.
He hastily shouted as if making excuses:
“When, when did I ever…! Hey, do you have proof?”
“Forget it.”
Not wanting to waste any more time with useless arguments, Jeong Ido released the collar he had grabbed. Then, as if he had grabbed something dirty, he brushed off his hands and said:
“Unless you’re going to lend me a lighter, get lost.”
Watching his former colleague who had been so aggressive but now ran away as soon as he was freed, Ido snorted as if dumbfounded. At the same time, he casually spoke to the air:
“Director. How is what I mentioned coming along?”
The director, who had been secretly hiding behind a corner wall watching worriedly in case this guy might cause some trouble, screamed at Ido’s voice calling him as if he had known from the beginning.
Really spine-chillingly, because he called while looking exactly at where he was standing, the startled director walked out in front of Jeong Ido on his own.
“What, you. Did you know I was here?”
As if it wasn’t particularly difficult, Ido shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re someone who really likes eavesdropping.”
The tone suggesting he had expected it made him even more scared. The director obediently gave the answer he wanted.
“Uh, well. It’s progressing well. But suddenly a public audition, what kind of change of heart…”
“Every single one without exception. So I can see and choose with my own eyes.”
“…”
Though his tone was calm, the meaning contained in those words was merciless.
“Cutting off the buds so that people without talent can’t even have lingering attachments is minimal consideration. It’s wise to let them go down other paths at as young an age as possible.”
So why are you the one deciding that? Since he was someone you couldn’t communicate with from the start, instead of saying that, the director who was about to step back with a deep sigh opened his eyes wide.
“Wait. The back of your neck. Is that a tattoo?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
