Chapter 79

Compared to Yoo Seol-ah's place—which could be called ridiculously luxurious from a broke college student's perspective—my studio apartment was just your average one-room setup. But if she wanted to come over, there was no reason to say no.

Whether it was her place or mine, both were about a five-minute walk from the bus stop, so by the time we'd finished chatting about random stuff, we were already at my door.

"What floor?"

"Third. Room 302."

I always kept the place at least somewhat tidy, so there was no need to make her wait outside.

"It's #821900. In case bugs get in, come kill 'em for me."

"...I was wondering why you were telling me."

The last part was a joke, so Yoo Seol-ah played along with a fake pout. I knew her place's passcode too, so it was only fair. Though, even knowing it, I'd never just walked in without saying anything.

And if she really wanted to, a door wouldn't stop her anyway.

As soon as I opened the front door, Yoo Seol-ah stepped inside first, slipped off her shoes, and neatly lined them up.

"Pardon the intrusion..."

After glancing around a bit, she looked at me with curious eyes. With just a bathroom and one room, there wasn't much else to see.

"You live really clean."

"I just get the urge to clean whenever it starts getting messy."

"...I don't even bother folding my blankets."

Ever since I was a kid, I'd wake up fully, neatly make the bed, and start my day. It was a habit I still kept—a routine that felt off if I skipped it.

"The piano's over there, huh."

"Yeah. I don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠play it much, but it looks nice as decor."

Since music was my hobby, I'd brought it along on Dad's suggestion when I moved out. It was a master keyboard, one step smaller than a standard 88-key.

"I took piano lessons when I was little too."

"No way?"

"Yeah. Up to Czerny 100."

"Whoa, that's pretty impressive."

Anyone who's played piano knows: Czerny 100 is the level where you can say, "I know how to play piano." And I wasn't teasing—I genuinely thought it was cool.

Yoo Seol-ah caught my expression and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked a little puzzled. She'd thought I was mocking her, but my seriousness surprised her.

"...Doesn't that pale in comparison to you?"

"I might've done it longer, but Czerny 100 means you didn't quit right away, right?"

"True."

"So yeah, that's impressive."

To someone who never even started piano—which has a steep learning curve—Czerny 100 is a massive wall. Just not giving up deserves praise.

"Wanna play something?"

"Can I? But this connects to headphones, right?"

"Yeah. It's a bit different from a regular digital piano."

A master keyboard doesn't make sound on its own without software. No way it was soundproof enough for apartment piano playing, so headphones were a must.

I had three pairs at home, two already hooked to the audio interface, so I grabbed the main one and spread the ear cups apart.

She tilted her head at me for a second, then got it and shyly poked her head between them, cheeks flushing a bit. Like with the apron earlier, she seemed to love these little intimate gestures.

I slipped the headphones over her ears, put on a spare pair myself, and sat her down at the chair.

"Whoa... it's been forever since I sat at a piano."

"You went to lessons for about a year?"

"Yeah. Back then, I'd practice once, punch three stamps on the practice card, that kinda thing."

"Everyone did that. But Czerny 100 in a year? That's fast."

"...Really? I got compliments back then, but I wasn't sure if they meant it."

It wasn't always the case, but people with artistic talent in one area often shone in others. I didn't know exactly how far she'd gone, but she probably had real talent.

"Play something. And don't laugh."

"No laughing, promise."

It wasn't a test, but her nervous vibe was adorable. After a short deep breath, she lightly placed her hands on the keys.

Soon, a pleasant melody flowed into my ears—one of those standard tunes you hear near piano academies. Even after so long, her hands remembered.

"...How was it?"

"Korea just lost a world-class pianist."

"...Dude, say stuff like that and I'll believe you for real."

I'd asked for her thoughts after she finished, so I gave my honest take—half-joking, half-serious. How does a first-year handle dynamics like that? Beginners focus on accuracy, so hers was probably instinctive. I genuinely wondered what would've happened if she'd pursued it.

Was this how Dad felt, always nudging me toward music?

"...Sorry to the music world, but I prefer drawing."

"Yeah. You're already killing it there anyway."

True to her knack for vibes, she puffed up a bit to match my praise. Even her bragging was cute and endearing—not a hint of annoyance. Her overwhelming talent went beyond music or art; it was her face itself.

If she'd gone into music, Yuki-nyang fans like me would've been devastated. She had to pick one.

"I wanna hear you play too."

"Sure. Name a song."

"For real? Any song's fine?"

"Anything I know."

She skeptically named a famous classical piece. I dove right in. Another ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠song the hands remember. I didn't plan to play it all, so I wrapped up midway and glanced over—right into Yoo Seol-ah biting her lip.

"Why stare like that?"

"Why nursing major?"

"...I was into it back then?"

Her random question threw me off, and I answered awkwardly. I wasn't a nurse now, but health ed teaching still interested me.

"I don't know much about music, but this ain't hobby level."

"It is. Quit lessons after middle school."

"...Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She eyed me suspiciously, but I was just stating facts, so I had nothing more to say.

"Any other songs?"

"Hmm..."

This time, a super famous anime OST. Not a piano piece originally, but if I knew the melody, it was fair game. Easier than strict classical since I could add ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my own arrangement.

I played through the highlight section, and she let out a weird noise, firing questions.

"Uwah, wait—what, sheet music? I just said the first thing that popped in my head..."

"There might be sheets, but that was my style."

"How...? Anyway, you said composing's a hobby too, right?"

"Yeah. Wanna hear?"

She nodded frantically, entranced. I'd only composed for myself—only Baek Sia and Dad had heard—but I wanted to share with her. I wasn't one to take the lead, but I had zero shame about my creations.

"I figured some could go in our game anyway."

With her illustrations, it'd lean heavy subculture, and I had tracks fitting that vibe. I hit play on one finished piece.