Chapter 284: Stranger (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 284: Stranger (2)
Click. The door swung open.
"Hey, get out here."
Lying on his bed, Lee Cheong-hyeon checked the clock at his younger brother’s words. It was 6:30 PM.
He stumbled toward the dining room, where his father and older brother were already seated. The table was set, likely prepared by the housekeeper before she left.
Judging by his mother’s absence, he assumed she was either on a business trip or working late.
"…I’m home."
"Why are you only greeting us now?"
His father’s low voice carried a sharp reprimand. Cheong-hyeon muttered an apology and took his seat.
The meal was silent. The only sound was the clinking of cutlery.
Cheong-hyeon felt like he’d rather faint. He couldn't swallow a single bite. The agony of being unable to simply get up and leave the table weighed heavily on him.
Just as he was forcing himself to go through the motions with his chopsticks, someone slammed their utensils down.
His father was staring at him.
"Lee Cheong-hyeon."
"…Yes."
"How much longer are you going to keep doing this idol thing?"
His voice was flat, yet it cut like a blade.
His father hurled something onto the table. The sound of dishes clattering and breaking echoed through the room. The table became an instant mess.
The screen of the thrown phone was shattered. Through the cracked glass, a fancam of Spark’s IRREGULAR stage was playing.
Cheong-hyeon glared at his younger brother. His father wasn't the type of person to go looking for things like this on his own.
"Is this why you shouted about becoming an idol? To do this? Aren't you ashamed to go around selling your face like this?"
Of course he wasn't ashamed. For that single stage, Cheong-hyeon had worked himself to the bone on the arrangement and squeezed every second out of his schedule to practice.
And yet, his family called it embarrassing. Simply because he danced with fluid lines, wore pink clothes and a cute hat, and winked at the camera.
He didn't even think, Of all things, why did he have to see IRREGULAR? His father would have been angry no matter what he saw. To him, Cheong-hyeon would have looked like one of three things: an embarrassment, a half-wit, or a brainless fool.
Cheong-hyeon said nothing. He knew better than anyone that talking to his father was like talking to a wall.
"Is this the kind of stage you're doing while neglecting your finals? Didn't you feel any guilt sending a report card like that home? Don't you feel sorry for your parents?"
His brothers left the table first. Only Cheong-hyeon remained, unable to move from the table where sauce from the side dishes was dripping onto the floor.
"You’re a senior now. There are less than ten months left until the CSAT."
The warning pressed down on him with crushing weight.
"This is your last chance to undo a wrong choice. With your brain, it’s not too late if you snap out of it now."
With those final words, Cheong-hyeon was truly left alone.
No one cared about the broken dishes, likely assuming the housekeeper would clean them up tomorrow.
Cheong-hyeon cleaned the table himself. He wiped it down thoroughly, as if scrubbing away a stain on his heart.
The bed felt uncomfortable when he finally lay down. The air was desolate and cold. He missed his room at the dorm, a place cluttered with things and life.
He checked the group chat to see what the members were up to; messages had already piled up. Cheong-hyeon sent a late reply.
Immediately, Kim I-wol sent him a private message. A preview popped up on his lock screen.
Our Eldest Hyung
[Everything okay?]
[Call me if anything happens.]
He couldn't take his eyes off the pop-up. He didn't even think to reply; he just stared at the preview.
He woke up at the crack of dawn. Cheong-hyeon washed up early and sat on his bed, waiting for his family to leave.
He sighed before the sun had even risen.
I woke up too early.
He couldn't help it after tossing and turning all night, but he wanted to start his day only when he wouldn't have to run into his family.
That was when he heard the sound of the door lock opening.
Is Mom home already?
Cheong-hyeon quickly pulled the covers over his head and lay down. He was already distressed enough; he didn't know what he might hear if he ran into her.
He heard his parents talking through the door.
"You're just getting in?"
"Yeah. I'm going to catch some sleep and head back out."
"Didn't you say you were going somewhere this afternoon?"
"A seminar. I'll be back by evening, though."
It was a mundane conversation. Cheong-hyeon used to like this kind of peace.
"Did you talk to Cheong-hyeon?"
"He just kept his mouth shut. You can't have a conversation with him."
"Nineteen years old and still hasn't come to his senses. Honestly."
But the realization that he was always the one disturbing the peace made his heart ache.
Cheong-hyeon failed to leave while the house was empty.
He even had to sit through breakfast with everyone. The table, with all five chairs filled, was even more uncomfortable than the night before.
His mother’s voice broke the long silence.
"Lee Cheong-hyeon, I heard you had a talk with your father yesterday?"
Could you even call that a talk?
He knew that while this might have been a natural scene in the past, it wasn't anymore.
Specifically, he realized this after seeing Kim I-wol. I-wol always worked so hard to prevent his younger members from being placed in such environments.
"…Yes," Cheong-hyeon forced an answer.
"And? Have you thought about it?"
"Thought about what?"
"Your father must have told you. You really need to focus on your studies now."
His mind went blank. Cheong-hyeon stammered, "Are you telling me to quit being an idol?"
"How much longer did you plan on doing something meant for children?"
His ears rang as if vibrating. His mother’s gaze was sharp enough to pierce through him. Despair bled from his heart, which felt as though it had been sliced by a blade.
He had worked so hard since debuting. He was exhausted and full of worries, but he was happy because they saw results. There wasn't a single moment he wasn't happy while writing music.
Every moment spent with the others was precious. Even when his friend suffered from mental health issues or his hyung was struggling, he did his best to help them overcome everything.
Even though he was happy throughout their promotions, he had been so worried that people would say he wasn't a functioning member of society if he didn't make money. He had barely been able to breathe a sigh of relief on the day they got their settlement.
Back then, he had felt more relief than surprise.
He knew he would hear harsh words if he did poorly on his exams, but he wanted to show them that he was doing his job well.
And yet, they dismissed everything he had built with that heart as a "delinquent act they could turn a blind eye to."
Cheong-hyeon bolted upright. Ignoring the voices asking what he was doing, he went into his room and shoved the charger he brought from the dorm into his bag.
"Who taught you to be so rude as to leave in the middle of a meal—"
"I knew you wouldn't understand. That's why I didn't even hope for it."
"How dare you talk back when you've done nothing right?"
"Has there ever been anything you said I was good at, other than studying?"
His family rushed over. They all stood behind his mother.
There was no one by Cheong-hyeon’s side.
"We got first place on a music show. We even won a Rookie Award. You used to love it whenever I got an award. Are you ashamed of this kind of award?"
His sorrow burst out uncontrollably.
"I endured it because I thought it was out of concern. I thought you were worried about your child throwing his life away on an uncertain future, that you just wanted me to walk a solid path. That’s why I just let it slide."
"You know that, and yet you're acting like this? We're worrying because we don't want you to suffer!"
"I don't want to live like that!" Cheong-hyeon screamed.
"You were the ones who decided on the piano, too. I didn't even have a choice of instruments to begin with. Even when I won awards at competitions every single day, you treated me like an immature, stubborn brat. You told me to quit everything if I didn't place in an international competition before I turned twenty-five!"
"That's why we let you try being an idol. Is there anyone among Su-hun and Gang-myeong who lived doing everything they wanted as much as you?"
"So you're telling me to fold now because that grace period is over? I consider this my profession!"
"Does society even recognize being an idol as a proper profession?"
He was speechless. A passage from a book he had read recently—on a night when he couldn't sleep and in a car when his thoughts were heavy—came to mind.
"What had taken the rabbit from him? Why had they stopped him from fishing and walking?"
After reading the end of that book, Cheong-hyeon had felt an infinite emptiness. He didn't want to become like that.
"Mom, I…"
Tears fell. Cheong-hyeon squeezed out the strength even to wipe them away as he spoke.
"It's not that I want social recognition. I just want to do what I love."
"…."
"It's not like I'm doing something that hurts others…."
Tears dripped onto the floor.
Cold words fell over Cheong-hyeon’s bowed head.
"Then leave."
"Honey."
"If you're going to live however you want, then leave. But leave behind everything bought with the money your mother and father earned."
It felt like his heart was being gouged out.
"I don't want to care anymore about a child who doesn't realize how blessed of an environment he grew up in."
At those words, Cheong-hyeon opened the bottom drawer of his dresser.
A cheap, tangerine-colored pouch—something that didn't belong in this luxurious house—revealed itself.
"I told you, didn't I? Leave it all."
"I'm leaving it all."
Cheong-hyeon opened his bag and stuffed the charger he had packed into his pants pocket. He threw the bag straight into the trash can. He even took off the cardigan he was wearing and tossed it onto the bed.
"But I bought this."
"…."
"I bought this with the prize money I got from a water rocket contest. The online lectures you paid for didn't teach me how to make a water rocket, and Dad didn't drive me to the competition site. I did it all myself."
Cheong-hyeon’s grip tightened on the pouch.
"I don't need anything but this."
Cheong-hyeon stormed out of the room. No one stopped him as he headed down the hallway toward the entrance.
As he was putting on his shoes, a familiar coat fell over his shoulders.
Lee Gang-myeong was looking down at him.
"You've become a beggar now; at least take a coat."
"Get lost."
Cheong-hyeon shoved the coat away. It fell limply to the floor.
Gang-myeong sneered.
"I wouldn't live like that even if someone told me to. Is it fun having to manage your image while getting trashed on the internet every other second?"
"Then are you happy living the way you do?" Cheong-hyeon asked, his eyes bloodshot.
Gang-myeong smiled brightly. "Of course."
Normally, Cheong-hyeon would have just left at this point.
Instead, he chose to look his brother straight in the eye.
"I guess that makes sense."
"What?"
"You failed to get into the Gifted High School."
Gang-myeong’s eyes flared at the provocation.
"If I had gone to the Gifted High School too, you would have been a sight to see. You would have been the only one among us treated like a dummy who couldn't get in."
"Are you done talking?"
"No. I also have to say how childish it is to see you acting all high and mighty just because you went to some substitute school."
"You couldn't even go there."
"Isn't it a bit too self-serving to decide that I 'couldn't' go?"
Silence fell between the two. As Cheong-hyeon finished putting on his shoes and prepared to stand up, Gang-myeong spat out a curse. Cheong-hyeon just stared at him.
Gang-myeong snapped at him.
"How successful do you think you're going to be in the future?"
Cheong-hyeon didn't answer.
Perhaps interpreting the silence as a lack of confidence, Gang-myeong said, "I'm not going to live without a plan like you, fuck."
Those words touched something deep inside Cheong-hyeon.
The source of what had been driving him as the end of the year approached.
"The future?"
Tears were still streaming down Cheong-hyeon’s face.
But his eyes shone with a chilling light.
"Who are you to arrogantly discuss the future when you don't even know when you'll die?"
On the day Kang Gi-yeon announced his hiatus, Cheong-hyeon had worried that Gi-yeon might never return to the stage.
When Kim I-wol was rushed to the hospital after two unexpected accidents, he thought he might never see his hyung again.
The reason Cheong-hyeon ground himself down so much...
The reason he sat in his small studio and churned out songs like a machine, thinking of the sea I-wol had taken him to, even though creativity isn't something that just happens because you're sitting down...
"I don't think about things like the future."
Because he didn't know if the six of them would still be together in the future.
Because there was no guarantee that this moment would last forever.
"My goal is to leave evidence right now that the six of us existed. As much as possible."
Cheong-hyeon’s voice trembled. It was a voice filled with deep-seated sorrow.
"To the point where even if I were to get into a fatal accident on my way back today, people would say I left every record I possibly could have in a year."
"…."
"You go ahead and spend your whole life drawing up your future."
With those final words, Cheong-hyeon walked out the front door.
And then, he called Kim I-wol, crying.
"Hyung."
His face was wet, but he didn't have the composure to wipe it. Cheong-hyeon clutched his pouch and asked, "Can I go back to the dorm a bit early?"
Cheong-hyeon needed a place to rest.
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Hermann Hesse, Beneath the Wheel.