18 - In Between (3)
18 - In Between (3)
18.
Kang Seonghun grew up with a father who worked as a pop music critic and a mother who was a violinist.
In a family that made its living through music, it was only natural that he developed an interest in it as well. From a young age, he learned various instruments, and starting in elementary school, he even took vocal lessons.
But none of that truly interested him.
Rather than singing himself, Kang Seonghun wanted to be the one who created the music.
So he began composing. With that came a clear goal: to create the best pop music possible.
Some self-proclaimed “artists” might sneer at that ambition, but Kang Seonghun didn’t care. He simply focused on making songs.
That didn’t mean he neglected his academics. He studied hard as well. As a result, he entered Seolwon Arts High School as an honor student.
If Han Goyo hadn’t existed, he would have been the top student and received the scholarship.
At first, he was resentful.
But after witnessing Han Goyo’s talent firsthand, that resentment vanished completely. Instead, a different thought took its place.
I must obtain her.
A true genius—unlike all the self-proclaimed ones. That dazzling talent would only shine brighter in the future, and if it were him, he could refine that brilliance even further.
With that in mind, Kang Seonghun approached Han Goyo and suggested that they perform together at the event.
“I don’t want to.”
She rejected him in less than a second.
But he wasn’t discouraged. In fact, he thought it was only natural.
Real geniuses were lofty. If she had accepted immediately, he would have been disappointed. There would be many more opportunities. One day, he would definitely work with that noble genius.
He decided this firmly—
—and one week later, he found himself staring at an incomprehensible scene.
“Is turning slightly to the side really that hard?”
That same noble genius was being scolded.
By a classmate.
He couldn’t understand it. Who the hell was that punk to talk down to Han Goyo like that?
Then he heard the rumor—that this punk was the one Han Goyo herself had asked for a song.
It was shocking.
She rejected him… but chose that delinquent?
Unbelievable.
There had to be a deeper reason.
So Kang Seonghun questioned students from the even-numbered classes in detail about this delinquent, and he learned a few things.
His name was Yoon Hajun.
Originally a vocal major, then switched to composition.
Sleeps in class.
Disappears during breaks and lunch.
A thug, he thought.
Even worse than expected.
A thug who dared treat Han Goyo that way.
Unforgivable.
He had to rescue Han Goyo from that thug’s hands.
“One day, I’ll take Han Goyo back.”
That was what Kang Seonghun told Yoon Hajun.
“What the hell is he even talking about?”
Of course, Hajun had no idea what he meant.
§ § §
From the stage concept to the outfits, everything was finally decided.
As for makeup, I got help from the closest and most reliable source I had—Suyeon.
“If she’s wearing this kind of outfit, there’s no need for heavy makeup. Do it like this…”
She explained it in impressive detail.
In my past life, Suyeon always looked plain. I hadn’t realized she was this interested in makeup.
“Why are you staring?” she asked.
“I just didn’t know you were this into makeup.”
“I wanted to be an idol.”
“An idol?”
That was news to me. I knew she wanted to be a singer, but I didn’t know she had aimed specifically for idols.
“Do you still want to be one?”
“I used to, but not anymore. I’m hopeless at dancing…”
“…Yeah. Dancing is hard.”
Just because someone has great vocal talent doesn’t mean they can dance. Han Goyo had proven that in glorious fashion.
Thinking about her stiff movements made me sigh.
Then Suyeon hugged a cushion and said, “And I like singing your songs more.”
“That’s a relief.”
As long as she was doing what she wanted, that was enough for now.
With the makeup issue solved, all that remained was stage practice.
While preparing the stage, I uploaded the second song I made with Suyeon—Actually—to Cloud. Then I checked the comments.
There were several on Runaway. More than half were from a user named SomSom.
This song is seriously so goodㅠㅠㅠ
Your tone is so beautiful…
I listen to this several times a day…
Are you a singer? An idol trainee? I really hope you make it big!
There were more. Judging by the dates, they left one every few days. At this point, it was practically spam.
But it still made me happy. Someone loved a song I composed and Suyeon sang that much.
I thought about replying, but instead I told Suyeon to respond for me.
While she did that, I continued working for the event. All the arranging was complete. Now we just had to prepare the stage.
During breaks, lunch, and after class, Han Goyo and I spent every possible moment in the practice room. During the weekly performance practice class, we focused on getting used to the stage.
Goyo still lacked stage experience. She needed to adjust quickly.
But every time we practiced, I felt a burning sensation on the back of my head. When I turned around, sure enough—
Kang Seonghun was glaring at me.
Seriously, what is his problem?
Last time he said something about “taking Goyo back,” and now every performance class he just stared daggers at me. He did it so intensely that I was starting to worry my scalp might actually develop a bald spot.
Well, I could guess the reason.
He probably liked Goyo.
Can’t blame him. She’s gorgeous. Even compared to Jin Sohyang, a current idol, she didn’t fall behind at all.
Still—he only glared. He didn’t interfere otherwise.
That was something, at least.
Though he did call me a “delinquent” from time to time, which I didn’t appreciate—mostly because it wasn’t entirely wrong.
In my past life, I really had been a delinquent.
…Wait.
How the hell does he know that?
Anyway, event prep continued smoothly. We found a perfect rainstorm video, and I recorded the rain sound myself. April ended. May arrived.
I made a few close friends.
The event was approaching.
As it drew nearer, regular classes were reduced and replaced with time in the small theater, which was great—more stage practice.
“Okay.”
Around that time, I finally gave the OK sign to Goyo’s gestures.
Honestly, calling them “gestures” was generous. All she did was lift her head, lower it, look forward, and cover her face with her hand.
That was it.
And yet, it took a full month to master even that.
Who would’ve thought Han Goyo was this stiff?
I almost cried.
“Is this good enough?” she asked, pushing back her sweat-soaked hair.
I nodded.
Yeah. This was the best we could do. This was our limit.
“You damn delinquent! How dare you make Han Goyo do a stage like that! You should be ashamed!”
From afar, Kang Seonghun yelled.
I felt irritation surge.
That bastard. What do you even know about Han Goyo?
She can’t even turn her head properly on stage, let alone dance.
But I didn’t yell back.
He’d find out himself when he suffered during the festival.
“By the way, is it okay not to practice singing here?” Goyo asked.
“We’re not practicing here because it’s here,” I replied.
I didn’t want to expose our song. Everyone here was the enemy. My only ally was Goyo, who shared the stage with me.
I wanted to practice singing on stage, but I’d settle for secret rehearsals.
Thankfully, those were held privately.
Just because someone falls, the world won’t change.
I watched Goyo sing in the practice room.
I wouldn’t let this song be heard early.
Beside me, Taeyoung muttered, “This is completely busted balance.”
“If you’re jealous, get your own cheat code.”
“Yeah… that cheat only exists as one person.”
Taeyoung sighed.
Well. True.
There’s only one Han Goyo.
§ § §
June 4th, Friday.
The practical music students of Seolwon Arts High gathered in the small theater with tense expressions. Today was finally the first event—the Freshman Concert.
For this day, everyone had worked desperately.
The school treated events as seriously as festivals. For aspiring singers, stage experience was crucial.
There were four events each year:
June — First-Year Freshman Concert
July — Third-Year Practical Music Concert
August — Second-Year Summer Festival
November — First- and Second-Year Joint Winter Festival
Except for the third-year concert in July, all events were held in the school’s small theater, and only practical music students and teachers could attend.
The third-year concert was different. Because it took place during summer break, students from other schools could attend, and even entertainment agencies and university professors came to watch.
For practical music students, that stage was more important than any festival.
But today was the Freshman Concert, so only first- and second-years attended. Third-years could come, but they rarely did. They were focused on midterms and their own concert a month later.
“So how many people are in the audience today?” Taeyoung asked.
“If you combine first- and second-years, about 160. Add any third-years who come to watch, plus instructors and teachers… maybe around 180.”
“That’s not much.”
Taeyoung clicked his tongue and looked around. He’d performed piano in competitions before, so he was used to audiences. The others weren’t.
Most looked stiff with nerves.
The ones who didn’t were exactly five people: Jin Sohyang, the current idol; Han Goyo, expressionless as ever; Kang Seonghun, eyes burning as he stared this way; me, yawning while sipping coffee; and Taeyoung himself.
What a weirdo.
That was what Taeyoung thought when he looked at me—talented, knowledgeable, and always exhausted. Why?
Then the teacher called the names of Yoon Hajun and Han Goyo.
It was time for their secret rehearsal.
We both answered and stood.
There were many performances people were excited about, but if Taeyoung had to choose the one he looked forward to most, it was Hajun’s stage.
Just watching him rehearse in the practice room had been shocking. So what would the real stage be like?
Taeyoung’s body trembled with anticipation. He was more excited for Hajun’s performance than for his own.
Hajun and Goyo left the waiting room.
About five minutes later, they returned.
Goyo’s expression was the same as always. Hajun’s was slightly flushed.
“Must’ve gone well?” Taeyoung asked.
Hajun nodded. “Yeah.”
Soon after, all rehearsals ended. There was a short lunch break, but almost no one ate—not even Taeyoung.
Hajun, however, quietly finished his meal.
Why skip food you already paid for? Especially when the cafeteria food was good.
After eating, Hajun returned to the waiting room, now packed with students ready to perform. He checked the time on his phone.
1:00 PM.
One hour until the real show began.
He looked at Goyo. She was already in stage outfit—but not his stage outfit.
Vocal majors performing with composition majors had to go on twice, so they could choose the order. Goyo’s solo stage was fourth. Her stage with Hajun was near the end.
Plenty of time to change later.
Their eyes met.
Hajun said nothing. He simply nodded.
Goyo did the same.
At that moment, a soft alarm sounded.
The Freshman Concert had officially begun.