No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

When you enter the music room, you get a glimpse of Seo Sooji’s taste. The square frames hanging on the wall, the instant photos pinned above them, the books lined up on the shelves, and the potted plants neatly arranged by the window—it all reveals her personality. Outwardly, she seems easygoing and strong, but there’s a delicate side to her.

“Sigh… Do you really think this will work?” Seo Sooji asked, her tone and expression laced with disbelief.

It was a reaction I had expected.

“Yes, I think it’s a good idea,” I replied confidently.

The moment I arrived at school, I had sought out Seo Sooji to make a proposal: let’s keep the orchestra club going. I suggested recruiting idle students who weren’t interested in studying—namely, the so-called school delinquents.

“Do you think they’d agree to this?”
“We’ll make them agree.”
“Even if they do, do you really think they’d be reliable?”
“I’ll take responsibility for that.”

Seo Sooji glanced again at the list of names I had brought, scoffing audibly.

“This is insane.”
“I disagree.”

“Sigh… Seojoon, it’s crazy enough to think about gathering these troublemakers for club activities, but an orchestra club? Do you even hear yourself?”
“It’s possible. I’ll make it happen.”

“Wait… you’ve never been particularly interested in the orchestra club, have you?”
“I have. I’ve always attended practice regularly.”

“Don’t you have better things to do? Isn’t Professor Han keeping you busy?”
“No, I just need to attend lessons twice a month.”

“Are you even preparing for college? Oh wait, you don’t need to…”

Seo Sooji trailed off before reopening her mouth to speak.

“Let me ask you directly—are you planning to go abroad for studies next year? Isn’t it a waste of your talent not to?”
“I don’t see the need. It’s not like I can’t learn music here. I’m not considering it until after high school.”

Part of my agreement with Professor Han involved discussing overseas studies. But for now, there were too many things I needed to handle here.

“Sigh…”

After a moment of tapping her desk, Seo Sooji finally spoke.

“If an orchestra member causes trouble, the responsibility falls squarely on me. When you got into a mess, the principal handled it, but for the other students, it’ll be on me. Honestly, I’m not confident.”

“I’ll make sure nothing like that happens.”

“And… do you think bringing them in would reflect well on our orchestra club?”
“I don’t really care about that.”

“What the heck gives you such confidence…?”

I didn’t say it aloud, but the truth was, this kind of thing was second nature to me.

“Fine, let me ask you one last thing. What’s your purpose in doing this? Are you trying to rehabilitate those delinquents or something?”
“Of course not. People don’t get recycled.”

“…Then why?”
“Because I want to.”

“……”

Seo Sooji remained silent, so I continued.

“There’s no grand ambition behind this. It’s just that when a carefully built tower starts to crumble, sometimes you have to fill it with whatever you can find—even if that’s broken bottles or crushed beer cans.”

“If that’s all there is to it, then…”

“What are you so worried about? If they’re useless, we’ll just throw them out. Trash is easier to deal with when it’s all in one place.”

“……”

Seo Sooji stared at me intently with wide, marble-like eyes. She probably thought my words were harsh. It didn’t matter. This was who I was, and people like that were best handled this way.

Tap-tap.

Seo Sooji tapped her desk thoughtfully before nodding.

“Fine. I’ll talk to the head of student affairs. Bring those kids to the auditorium by next Thursday’s practice.”

****

Choo Minji had reached out, saying she needed a favor. Coincidentally, I also had something to discuss with her about the orchestra club, so I agreed.

The meeting place was near the Seoul Arts Center—a neighborhood I had visited several times before. The area was bustling with people carrying instruments. Music practice rooms, studios, and instrument repair shops filled the surrounding buildings.

Following the address on my phone, I entered an alley. A few people with instruments whispered as they glanced at me, but fortunately, none approached me, saving me from any unnecessary trouble.

“Hey! Jung Seojoon!”

As I was walking, someone called out my name. My head turned instinctively—it had become a name I was used to hearing.

In the narrow alley, a man was smoking a cigarette.

Who is he? I thought, just as my eyes caught the black T-shirt he was wearing.

On the chest, the word “Choo” was printed in large letters.

Ah, he’s one of Choo Minji’s YouTube filming crew.

“Do you remember me? We met at Poonggwang Art Hall.”

“Oh, right.”

I remembered now—he had been the guy arguing with staff in the audience seating area while holding a camcorder. I had exchanged a brief greeting with him during intermission.

“It’s been a while,” I said.

“Yeah, I felt bad for not properly introducing myself back then, but here we are. Haha. So, what brings you to this area, Seojoon? Here for a lesson?”

“No, I’m here to see Choo Minji.”

“Oh, really? Then come with me.”

I followed the man into a music studio specializing in filming. It was a spacious, clean place equipped with perfect soundproofing and audio equipment. Choo Minji apparently rented spaces like this for content unrelated to me.

Inside, about ten people were bustling around, most wearing T-shirts with “Choo” printed on them. While it might have looked fine on Choo Minji, seeing others in them felt a bit embarrassing. Personally, I wouldn’t wear one, even if I were paid.

At the center of the studio stood two grand pianos. Lights positioned all around them shone intensely, setting the stage for something grand.

“Where is she?”

I scanned the area for Choo Minji and found her in a break room with a glass door, talking to a man who looked like a slick playboy. Their conversation, though inaudible to others, faintly reached my ears.

“Oppa, I told you this was supposed to be real. Why are we rehearsing?”
“Minji, it’s already been discussed with Yoo Ahra.”
“She’s only doing it because you’re forcing her.”
“…Just dock her pay, then.”
“Do you think this is about money for me?”

It was clear from their tones that the conversation wasn’t pleasant. Judging by the atmosphere, it seemed like I’d be waiting a while.

As I debated whether to stay or leave, people began approaching me one by one to greet me. Most looked about the age of recent college freshmen. I didn’t recognize any of them, but since they knew who I was, I politely returned their greetings.

For a brief moment, I felt like my old self again.

Lastly, a woman not wearing the group T-shirt approached me. She wore a form-fitting black dress, her short hair shining. Judging by her heavy makeup, she was probably a performer.

“Kevin, nice to see you again.”

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

My curt reply must have tipped her off. Her face fell slightly, so I quickly added something to lighten the mood.

“Sorry about that. Forgetting someone as beautiful as you—it must’ve been a hectic day for me.”

“Oh…”

Her cheeks turned red, and she laughed, clearly pleased.

“You’re a bit different than I expected. Your tone doesn’t seem very high school-like.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I’m not joking… Anyway.”

She extended her hand, continuing.

“I’m one of Professor Han’s students too. We met when you came to our school for a lesson.”

That day, I’d greeted dozens of people. It felt like Professor Han had summoned the entire music department just to introduce them.

“If it was then, I guess I can take back my apology.”

“Pfft, fair enough. The professor brags about you to everyone, you know.”

After exchanging a few more words, she asked for my phone number.

“Hey! Yoo Ahra!”

A man’s voice rang out suddenly.

Turning, I saw the man who had been arguing with Choo Minji earlier. His face was full of irritation as he gestured toward Yoo Ahra to come over.

“That jerk… I’ll catch you later,” Yoo Ahra said before heading off.

“Sure.”

“Move faster!”

The man shot me a glare before turning back.

Once Yoo Ahra reached him, he began scolding her loudly, making sure everyone around could hear.

“What were you doing over there?”
“I was just saying hello.”
“Who even is he?”
“Baek Jung… I mean, Kevin.”
“Him?”

The man glanced at me, scoffing.

Then, lowering his voice just enough to be heard, he said, “The crazy genius, right?”

The atmosphere grew tense. Everyone froze, their eyes on me.

I simply laughed it off, “Haha.”

Engaging with someone like him would’ve been a waste of time. Besides, remarks about the old Jung Seojoon didn’t bother me much. It wasn’t really about me anymore, was it?

The man went on, adding, “Honestly, I think all those videos were just editing magic.”

If Yoo Ahra hadn’t ignored him and gone to sit at the piano, who knows what else he would’ve said? That guy clearly needed some education on manners.

Once the man also sat at the piano, the staff began their respective tasks to prepare for filming.

“…That jerk.”
“Such a pain…”
“He wouldn’t dare say that if he heard him in person.”

Eavesdropping on the murmurs of the staff, I picked up some colorful language and bits of useful information.

The man’s name was Choi Woochul, a third-year at the National Academy of Arts. He was apparently quite famous for his good looks and exceptional skills. He’d even recently signed with a domestic classical music management agency.

Sitting opposite him at the piano was Yoo Ahra, a sophomore at Korea University. She, too, was said to be well-known.

Of course, I didn’t know either of them.

Today’s content was a piano battle between the two. They’d face each other and play the same piece to compare their skills. They were talking about some movie inspiration, but I hadn’t seen it, so I didn’t follow.

[Da-dan, dan-dan.]

The shoot, which was supposed to be entirely live and unscripted, now included a brief rehearsal thanks to Choi Woochul’s insistence.

Shortly after, the two performers agreed on a winner for the rehearsal: Choi Woochul.

“He must be feeling pretty smug,” 

Among the staff seated around, I noticed Choo Minji. She didn’t acknowledge me or make eye contact, her face cold and unreadable—an expression I’d never seen on her before. She looked like she was about to stir up some trouble.

After a moment, Choo Minji let out a sigh and stepped in front of the pre-set cameras. Behind her, the two grand pianos and their respective performers were poised for action.

“We’ll get started now,” she announced.

As she spoke, the studio lights dimmed until only the grand pianos and Choo Minji herself were illuminated. The moment the spotlight hit her, her expression changed completely.

“Choo-ha~ Choo-ha~!” she chirped brightly, waving with a radiant smile as if nothing had happened.

“Have you all been waiting long? Today, we’re doing the piano battle I promised! These talented guests are tough to book, so I hope you’re excited!”

It was impressive how quickly she switched her tone and demeanor. Not only that—she now bounded enthusiastically between Choi Woochul and Yoo Ahra, acting as if she adored them both.

“Wow, really? You started at five years old? A child prodigy, for sure!” she exclaimed, looking at Choi Woochul with honeyed eyes, despite glaring daggers at him moments earlier. It was almost as if she had swapped faces entirely.

It was impressive, though at the same time, a little heartbreaking to see someone so young already possessing such an ability.

Once the short interview was over, Choo Minji stepped aside, positioning herself behind the two grand pianos.

The performers exchanged lighthearted banter before starting.

“Should I go first?” Yoo Ahra asked.
“Of course~ Ladies first,” Choi Woochul replied.

With that, Yoo Ahra began, performing a segment of Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu. Her technique was solid, her skills evident.

When she finished, Choo Minji, who had been sitting between the pianos with her eyes closed, gave an exaggerated reaction, clapping enthusiastically.

After a brief comment, it was Choi Woochul’s turn. He played the same piece but upped the tempo, making it feel more dazzling and flamboyant.

Then came Yoo Ahra’s turn again. The two continued alternating, playing familiar pieces like Chopin’s waltzes and Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, moving on to notoriously challenging compositions.

It was during Choi Woochul’s performance of Liszt’s Tarantella that things took a turn. When Yoo Ahra attempted the same piece in response, she made a critical error mid-performance.

“Oh dear,” Yoo Ahra muttered awkwardly, trying to recover.

Quick as lightning, Choo Minji leapt in front of her, arms raised dramatically. She let out a loud, exaggerated cry of dismay, completely stealing the audience’s attention.

“Minji, does that mean I win?” Choi Woochul asked, standing and waving at the camera with a seemingly innocent smile.

To anyone unaware of the behind-the-scenes dynamics, his expression might have looked friendly. But the faces of the staff watching him told a different story.

“How did you feel about today?” Choo Minji asked Yoo Ahra.

“It was fun. Very educational.”

“And you, Woochul oppa?”

“Oh, I had a great time. It felt like reenacting a scene from a movie. I have a solo recital coming up soon, so it was wonderful to connect with my fans beforehand.”

A murmur spread among the staff.

-“He’s just here for self-promotion, isn’t he?”

“Wow~ I’ll definitely come if I have time!” Choo Minji replied, her voice full of exaggerated enthusiasm.

“That would be such an honor.”

After a few more questions, Choo Minji returned to the camera. It felt like the shoot was wrapping up.

“Wasn’t today amazing? As expected, the top talents from Korea’s best music colleges are something else!”

According to the rehearsal plan, this was the part where she’d segue into her usual call-to-action about subscriptions and notifications to end the video.

But then, Choo Minji broke script.

“And guess what? Even our staff couldn’t hold back their excitement!”

She darted forward, grabbing a camera and swinging it toward the group of staff members in matching T-shirts. One by one, she filmed them, catching them off guard as they forced awkward smiles and muttered stiff compliments:

-“Wow, that was amazing.”
-“Bravo.”
-“Truly the best.”

Eventually, the camera stopped in front of me.

Choo Minji gave me a quick once-over with the lens before spinning it back to herself, keeping her face centered.

“Did everyone just see that? Do you know who’s here with us today?” she teased, though her hands were moving rapidly off-camera, forming some sort of gesture.

One of the staff members approached me, holding out a phone. On the screen was the live stream we were currently filming. The comments were pouring in, scrolling too fast to read them all.

But one recurring word stood out:

-“Baekjung! Baekjung!”
-“Baekjung! Baekjung!”
-“OMG, he’s so handsome!”
-“He’s here!”

It didn’t take long to realize they were talking about me.

What the heck am I supposed to do?

As I pondered my options, Choo Minji caught my eye briefly. For a split second, our gazes locked, and she silently mouthed something.

“Let’s destroy that bastard.”