Persuasion

Three minutes and twenty seconds later, Kim Se-jun's song came to an end, and the fingers that had been moving without rest finally stilled. Inside the bar, where nothing but his voice and the gayageum had been ringing out, a fleeting silence followed the close of his performance.

The patrons, who had been watching the stage as if spellbound, registered that the song was over, and their faces filled with reluctant disappointment. But only for a moment — then they erupted with the highest praise for the singer who had given them such a magnificent performance.

"That song was incredible!"

"Encore! Encore! Encore!"

"One more! One more song!"

They shouted with flushed, exhilarated faces, and the atmosphere had grown so heated it felt as though they had walked into a famous singer's concert hall.

"Thank you!"

Kim Se-jun answered those fervent cheers with a bright smile, then continued with an apologetic look.

"I'm truly sorry, but the gayageum takes a long time to retune. As much as I'd love to stay, I'll have to step down here. Thank you!"

He wanted to repay their support in kind. But given the nature of the instrument, performing a new song would mean tuning it all over again from scratch — and that was no small amount of time. Swallowing his regret, he came down from the stage.

The moment he did, his cousin Kim Se-hoon seized him in a crushing hug.

"Kim Se-jun! That was seriously amazing! The song was so good!"

"Ah — hyung! I can't breathe!"

This was the cousin people had always called a gugak prodigy. Kim Se-hoon had known all about Se-jun's skill on the gayageum, of course — but he had never known the kid could sing like that. Add to it the easy, unshakable composure Se-jun had worn on stage from start to finish, and a performance without a single mistake, and in Se-hoon's eyes the boy had a presence that could hold its own against any working singer.

"Heh heh heh. Sorry. I had no idea you were this good. I knew about the gayageum playing, but the singing? That was insane."

"Of course it was. You think I'd try to switch careers for nothing? If I didn't have the talent, I wouldn't even have considered it."

"Sure, sure. Look at you, you little shit. Heh heh heh."

Seeing the pride written across Kim Se-hoon's face only lifted Se-jun's spirits further. Still riding that high, he turned to scan the room — and his eyes went wide.

Lee Hae-jin was gone. In the seat he had occupied, a new patron was already sitting.

"Wait — where's Lee Hae-jin?"

"No idea. He headed outside the second your song ended."

"What?"

Even to his own ears, the question sounded stupid.

"He actually left?"

"Yeah. Looked like something urgent came up — he took off in a hurry."

I'm screwed.

At his cousin's words, Kim Se-jun raked a hand through his hair. He had been so sure Lee Hae-jin had been watching with a look of genuine interest. Apparently it hadn't been enough to scout him, though. Frustration kept welling up, and he took it out on the innocent floor, scuffing at it with his foot.

That was when Kim Se-hoon, wearing a sly, mischievous grin, held something out to him.

"Here. Take it."

Se-jun lifted his head. A business card sat in his cousin's hand.

"Huh? What's this?"

"Congratulations."

Heart leaping with a sudden, impossible hope, Kim Se-jun snatched the card and looked at it.

The moment he read the words printed on the card, his pupils blew wide.

"He left it for you. Said something urgent came up and he had to go — but he wants you to get in touch. Made a point of it."

Cradling the card carefully in both hands, Kim Se-jun turned a glare on his cousin.

"Why would you mess with me like that?!"

"Just giving you a hard time. Heh heh heh. You should've seen your face — looked like the world was ending. You've been fun to mess with since we were kids, you know that?"

"If you weren't my cousin, I swear—"

"What, wanna drop the family privilege and go a round?"

Kim Se-hoon rolled his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulders as if to show off that bear-like frame, and Se-jun's eyes flickered.

Could I win a fight against him? He'd probably beat me like a dog in midsummer. The man boxed as a hobby, after all.

"I'll let it go this time. I owe you for setting this up in the first place."

At Se-jun's thin show of bravado, Kim Se-hoon threw his head back and let out a booming laugh.

"Alright. Congratulations. If he went as far as leaving a business card, you really must've made an impression. And he specifically asked you to call."

"Yeah. I think so."

"Whoa — my little brother's gonna be a singer. Give me an autograph now, before you get famous."

"A singer? Come on. I don't know anything yet. Getting a CEO's business card isn't the same as signing a contract. I heard Ares Music isn't the kind of place that comes easy."

"Fair enough. Nothing in this world is easy. And besides — if you actually end up debuting... have you even told your parents?"

Kim Se-hoon's voice dropped low. At those words, Kim Se-jun swallowed a sound in his throat.

Having closed out the open mic in triumph, Kim Se-jun came home. The bar owner had even thrown in extra money, begging him to come back and perform again — though Se-jun suspected there was an element of slipping some pocket money to a friend's little brother in there as well.

Sprawled across his mattress, he held Lee Hae-jin's business card in his hand. If it had been up to his heart, he would have called that very instant. What stopped him was exactly what Kim Se-hoon had pointed out: his parents.

His father, Kim Chang-yong — an Intangible Cultural Heritage master, and Se-jun's own teacher. And his mother, Park Jin-sook, who hoped with everything she had that he would follow in that father's footsteps. No two people in the world had placed greater expectations on him.

How would they react?

Falling short of his parents' hopes. It had been one of the greatest pressures he had felt in his previous life as well. He had never been able to shake the feeling that he was committing some grave unfilial sin.

But this time, even if it meant being a disappointing son, he did not want to fold up his dream and put it away. Once in a lifetime, wasn't a person allowed to fall short of his parents' expectations? The thought came — and with it, in the same breath, the image of their disappointed faces, and a tightness in a corner of his chest that he could not deny.

Worse, given his mother's unyielding nature and fiery temper, it was entirely possible she would come up to Seoul that very day, grab him by the hair, and drag him home.

"I'll just have to face it."

His father would be easier than his unyielding mother. With a trembling heart, he placed the call — and the ringtone that filled his ear was a piece his father had composed.

"Yes. Have you been well?"

The voice that greeted him — offhand, and yet as if it had been waiting for his call — planted a little courage in him.

"We're fine. How about you? The wind's been cold lately. Is Seoul any warmer?"

"Yes, Seoul's alright. How is it there?"

"We're alright too. Shall I put your mother on?"

At Kim Chang-yong's words, Kim Se-jun nearly jumped out of his skin.

"No! Father — I called because there's something I need to discuss with you."

"Mm. Is that so? Hold on a moment."

Kim Chang-yong, hearing his proud son out, carefully changed rooms — naturally enough that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his wife, Park Jin-sook, would find nothing strange about it.

There were times, once you became a parent, when you came to know even the habits your child himself was unaware of. In Se-jun's case, that habit was the word he chose for his father. The son who ordinarily called him Dad without a second thought would, on certain occasions, switch to Father. And whenever he did, it was always because he wanted something, or because he was about to bring up a serious conversation. It had been the same when he had said he wanted to live independently in Seoul.

In Kim Chang-yong's experience, conversations like this were better heard by Park Jin-sook later rather than sooner. His beloved wife had an even more volatile temper than he did. Wondering, with a mixture of worry and a flutter of anticipation, what his son would say this time, he stepped out of the master bedroom and spoke again.

"Alright. What's going on? Tell me."

At the sound of his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠father's voice through the phone, Kim Se-jun began to speak — his own voice unsteady, but the words themselves careful and calm. He told him about the dream he had been holding onto. About how badly he wanted it. And, going further, that even Lee Hae-jin, the CEO of a management company, had recognized his talent.

For a full thirty minutes, Kim Chang-yong simply listened in silence.

"...So I want to try. Father."

"..."

Kim Chang-yong's silence planted a seed of dread in Kim Se-jun's chest. Is he about to get angry? Or is he just going to hang up? The worst of all would be if he's disappointed in me. Carrying every anxious possibility at once, Se-jun opened his mouth with care.

"Father?"

"I'm listening. Lee Hae-jin, you said. That's the fellow who turns up on television now and then, isn't it?"

"Yes. That's him."

"...!"

At his father's consent, Kim Se-jun clenched his fist without even realizing it.

"I... really?"

"Yes. You're twenty-six. It'd be a bit ridiculous for me to sit here dictating your future, wouldn't it? And I already knew you'd had something else in mind for a while. I just didn't know how badly you wanted it, or how much talent you actually had. If you want it that much, and you've got the gift for it — then you should do it."

"Th... thank you."

"Don't thank me. And don't worry about your mother. I'll talk to her."

"Yes. Please do, Dad. Honestly, I still don't have the courage to tell Mom myself."

"You did the right thing. Knowing her personality, she'd hound me into going up to Seoul this instant to drag you back home."

At his father's theatrical suffering, Kim Se-jun laughed out loud, and before long the call ended on a mutual exchange of well-wishes.

"Hah..."

The instant the line went dead, Kim Se-jun let out a long, deep breath of relief. The conversation he had been dreading had gone more smoothly than he had any right to expect.

Was I worrying over nothing?

He had never imagined his father, Kim Chang-yong, would have a mind this open. A quiet smile found its way onto his face, and his gaze drifted to the business card he had set down beside the bed.

It was time to take the next step.

Lee Hae-jin stared a hole through his phone. It was never a quiet device on ordinary days, and even now the company group chat was buzzing with a ceaseless stream of messages. But the contact he actually wanted remained stubbornly silent.

A full week had passed since he had left his business card. Recalling Kim Se-jun, who had still not called, Lee Hae-jin's brow furrowed.

"I should've just spoken to him myself."

He had gone straight back to the company, run an emergency meeting, and somehow, through one ordeal after another, gotten things settled. But because of it, he was now on the verge of losing a brilliant uncut gem named Kim Se-jun.

"Hah. What a waste."

That gem — Kim Se-jun — was a jewel so dazzling that any other company, catching even a glimpse of him, would start to drool. The mere thought of watching him debut somewhere else put a sour burn in Lee Hae-jin's gut.

"I should've gotten his number. Idiot. Tch."

The sudden company crisis had kept him from handling things properly, and it was the kind of mistake he would regret and resent for a long time to come. A week had gone by, and still the boy's playing and singing lived in his mind as vividly as if he had heard them an hour ago. He hadn't been able to stay through the end of the set — but right up until the moment he walked out, the audience had not so much as twitched a finger, every one of them watching Se-jun and nothing else. A stage that could sink an entire room into that kind of immersion. The thought of a singer like that performing not in some little bar, but in a vast concert hall, sent a thrill running through his whole body.

"I'll have to pay that bar another visit soon."

He had no intention of giving up. The bar had invited the singer in the first place — they would have a contact number. A week had stripped him of every last shred of patience. With that thought, Lee Hae-jin rose from his chair — and at the same instant, his phone rang.

"...!"

Lee Hae-jin swallowed hard without even realizing it. Heart hammering, terrified the call would cut off, he answered at once.

The voice on the other end of the line. At the sound of it, the corner of Lee Hae-jin's mouth lifted, just slightly.