Lessons in Life
Yuyeon had been deep in thought lately.
She used to be unaware of it, but once she became a middle schooler, she finally noticed that her family’s finances weren’t particularly generous.
The moment she truly understood the gap between rich and poor came right after she enrolled in middle school.
At Euihyeon Middle School, it was impossible not to notice the number of children whose families were clearly well off.
It started small. One friend after another began getting a smartphone.
“Hey, Yuyeon! I got a new smartphone, so give me your number. Let’s follow each other on Instagram.”
“Huh? I don’t even have a phone.”
“Come on, your instrument is already top-tier and your warm bodyguard brother picks you up every morning. If your house were that rich, why wouldn’t you get a phone?”
Only then did Yuyeon realize her friends had misunderstood her situation and hurried to explain.
“The instrument belonged to my mom.”
She had been told by her violin teacher, Yoo Sera, that it was a good one, but she had no idea how expensive it actually was.
“The person who picks me up isn’t a bodyguard. He’s my older brother.”
“…Oh, really?”
“Our family isn’t rich.”
“I see.”
Fortunately, the friends she socialized with were all average families from Euihyeon Middle, so she could gloss over the awkwardness.
But the same thing kept happening, and Yuyeon started feeling something was off.
“A hundred thousand won an hour? That’s how much the lessons cost?”
“Even though the teacher who comes to my house is reasonable, professors cost more. That’s why my parents nag me every day to practice harder.”
“If my grades aren’t good, I won’t even be able to enter high school, my mom says. She told me to invest in what I like or else I’ll never invest.”
Even middle-schoolers knew there were bright kids in every circle.
Yuyeon had always been on the darker side, yet listening to her friends’ stories made her realize something was wrong.
She took lessons twice as often as her friends.
‘A hundred thousand won an hour… or even a hundred and fifty thousand? I have lessons four or five times a week… that means at least four hundred thousand to five hundred thousand won a month?’
Just the lesson fees would top two million won a month.
On top of that, she was renting a practice room as well.
No matter how she thought about it, her older brother Namhun didn’t seem like he was making that much money.
He even had to sit down with her and seriously deliberate when they ordered spicy chicken once a month.
Twins love everything, but—
“Bbibichi or Yongssik Two-Member Chicken? That’s the question.”
When she asked her friends, they answered without a second thought.
“Why are you thinking about it? Just order both.”
“Or eat Bbibichi today and Yongssik tomorrow.”
Eating chicken for two straight days had been a huge culture shock for Yuyeon.
‘I guess our family really is poor?’
But thinking about lesson fees made her doubt it.
Later, when she visited another friend’s house, Yuyeon finally understood her family’s situation wasn’t affluent at all.
“This is my room’s living room.”
The friend’s room was bigger than the entire half-basement two-room apartment where her four siblings lived.
Realizing the gap, Yuyeon felt the weight of all the money her brother Namhun had been spending on her.
‘Should I keep playing the violin?’
Knowing how hard her brother worked, Yuyeon began to feel burdened.
She had grown up watching Yoo Sera, who made a living from music, but hearing her friends say that was also not the case had her questioning everything.
Lost in worry, Yuyeon found herself unable to focus on practice even in front of Yoo Sera.
‘Should I ask oppa?’
But Namhun was always busy with work and rarely had time to talk face to face.
The only relaxed moments were breakfast.
This wasn’t the right time for such serious talk.
“Yuyeon-ah, I tried making your favorite lunchbox today.”
Namhun’s proud expression made Yuyeon close her eyes.
‘Again with the character lunchbox?’
She had thought it was rare lately, but a middle-schooler’s character lunchbox was just fodder for teasing.
Thinking of the mischievous boys who would tease her, her mood sank.
“How is it? Do you like it? I put a little more effort into it today.”
Yet the happiness on Namhun’s face made it hard to say the character lunchbox had to be retired.
“…Thank you. I’ll eat it well.”
Instead of a cheerful reply, Yuyeon’s gloomy face made Namhun stare at her for a long moment, searching for the real reason.
“Sorry. I forgot to make your favorite egg rolls this morning.”
Because he had spent so much time making the character lunchbox, he hadn’t had time to prepare her favorite egg rolls.
“It’s fine. I’m not mad.”
At Namhun’s words, Yuyeon shook her head and picked up her spoon.
“It really is delicious today.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You should open your own restaurant.”
At that, Namhun smiled brightly.
One casual comment from his sister lifted his fatigue.
But a part of him felt sad.
When she was younger, Yuyeon had nagged him for side dishes every single day.
His little sister who grew up too fast was both precious and heartbreaking.
Kids should be kids.
* * *
After sending the kids off to school, Namhun headed to an unfamiliar place.
It was Jo Wonhyeong’s studio.
He had contacted Namhun a while ago to arrange the meeting.
“You said the debts are all paid off… but you rented a studio in a brand-new building that looks quite solid.”
The situation must be better than he thought.
As he arrived nearby, Wonhyeong was waving from the parking tower.
“You can park here in the parking tower.”
After parking the car, Wonhyeong asked.
“This Ekus… was this the car your father drove?”
“Yes. I bought it just before he passed.”
Thinking about it now, it was truly fortunate.
“Your situation—aren’t you a bit worried about turning this car off? Repair costs and gas would be expensive.”
“Even though you’re my hyung, you’re worrying about your little brother’s finances first.”
“I’m getting old. The moment I saw the car, I thought that.”
“I wanted to switch to a Carnival with three kids, but Yuyeon goes to Euihyeon Middle. Even though this car is old, it hasn’t been that bad. Honestly, I don’t have the money to buy a new one anyway.”
“Yeah, now kids care about what car their parents have and which apartment they live in.”
“Compared to when we were younger, it’s completely different. I’m planning to keep this one until Yuyeon graduates from high school.”
“You’re also busy only during the day, and you talk exactly like a married friend.”
“I haven’t married, but I have three kids.”
“Heh heh… Time really does fly. I never thought I’d be talking about kids with my youngest.”
“Anyway, let’s go up.”
Wonhyeong’s studio turned out to be surprisingly clean and spacious.
He was using an entire floor, and it even had a recording booth.
“The equipment… is pretty decent. The studio is big too.”
“It’s enough for me to live on. That’s why I’ve already paid off the billions in debt.”
“I see.”
“But I’m not exactly rich. I have no house of my own. I live and sleep in the room here. It’s not worth paying rent for two places.”
“You’re still a workaholic, hyung.”
After sipping coffee across from each other, the two smiled.
“Seeing you like this makes me nostalgic. Back when I tried to convince you to form Evil Spirits, we sat facing each other like this in the office.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Actually, the boss opposed it because he thought you were too young. I pushed for it and hired you. There was quite a gap in our ages.”
“The boss opposed it? I didn’t know that.”
“You… don’t you resent me at all?”
Jo Wonhyeong’s serious question made Namhun shake his head.
“Not at all. For real.”
“Sera’s situation was different, though.”
“She’s not me. I don’t resent my hyung.”
“Is that so…”
“So don’t worry. Tell me what you wanted to say.”
“First, before that… let’s drop the formalities. You’re old enough now. I have a headache-inducing business topic, but I want to hear it comfortably.”
At Wonhyeong’s words, Namhun once again felt the passage of time.
Thinking about it, Wonhyeong had been much younger than current Namhun at the funeral.
As the siblings grew, both he and Wonhyeong had aged.
The eight-year gap between thirty-six-year-old Wonhyeong and Namhun was obviously different from the one in their late teens.
“Okay… I understand.”
“Yeah. Shall we get to the main topic? While listening to your song at the wedding, I realized something. Ah, you didn’t give up singing. That’s why I called you here.”
Namhun nodded slightly.
As always, Wonhyeong seemed to see straight through his heart.
“You’re right. I didn’t know either, but I’ve been singing since I was little. But…”
“But?”
Namhun had guessed why Wonhyeong had called him.
Probably to propose a comeback as a singer.
“The times have changed.”
At those words, Wonhyeong smiled bitterly.
Eight years had passed, and the music industry had completely reversed.
“I never imagined it would take me this long to recover. Both my body and heart.”
Because Wonhyeong had been the hyung and leader I trusted as a kid.
He was the only one who could hear the thoughts he couldn’t share with anyone else.
“It was the mind that was the bigger problem, not the body.”
“Yeah… that’s true.”
“I suffered. I didn’t even know you had two more younger brothers. If I had known, I would have been more careful… but how much it must have hurt for you to handle everything alone.”
“You went through a lot too.”
“But not to the extent of you. Sera told me you’re still being harassed even now?”
“I have to live, so what can I do.”
Jo Wonhyeong’s heart ached for Namhun’s miserable situation as the youngest of the group.
“I’m not sure I should ask this, but Yuyeon is still playing the violin?”
The question was how she managed school fees and lesson costs.
“Until elementary school, I taught her… but after middle-school entrance exams, Sera helped. I don’t know much about exams right now. She gives lessons and lets her use the practice room… somehow we’re managing. It’s actually an unreasonable favor.”
No matter how it was calculated, it was already more than a few hundred thousand won a month for three years.
Namhun had tried to talk to her about it several times, but Yoo Sera had stubbornly kept pushing the one-sided help.
“You must owe her a lot in gratitude.”
“I plan to repay it someday.”
‘Hmm… the situation seems harder than I thought. Maybe I can persuade him easily.’
Wonhyeong knew.
No one can change the flow of time with human power.
To survive, you have no choice but to adapt to the flow.
“Namhun. As you know, I was born on the streets.”
Jo Wonhyeong had also started as a b-boy and entered the entertainment industry as a backup dancer.
“I learned composing and singing by the seat of my pants.”
Myeong Ujin was known for his vocal talent, and Woo Minsu was famous for dancing.
Elixer and Jang Nam had survived only with looks.
In contrast, Wonhyeong wasn’t bad at anything, but none of his skills stood out.
To put it simply, a small hexagon.
That was why he had quickly turned toward writing songs and producing.
“Right now I’m mostly doing idol and OST arrangement work… but it’s not easy.”
“Why?”
“Big idols receive songs from foreign composers or hire their own. Small companies are stressed out by all sorts of things…”
“All sorts of things?”
“Unlike back then, competition is fierce here too, so selling even one song is difficult. I’m the junior, you’re the senior.”
“That’s true.”
“Back then, getting session musicians was hard without connections. But now you can produce songs through programs. The supply of composers has exploded. That’s why I shifted to OST, but the music director there is a real bully.”
“There’s bullying there too?”
“People are people. They either ask for lyrics instead of paying for the song, or slip their name in without doing anything. Even among famous people, there are quite a few. Or rather, the ones who know the situation well are the ones who try to insert their name.”
At Wonhyeong’s words, Namhun sighed deeply.
“Haha… hyung’s life isn’t easy either.”
Wonhyeong chuckled.
“So I found a way to survive.”
“A way?”
“Yeah. You still want to sing, right?”
“I do.”
“That’s why I have a proposal for you.”
“What?”
“How about you try being a trot singer?”
“…A trot singer?”
The unexpected words made Namhun’s eyes widen.