49 – Da Capo(1)
49 – Da Capo(1)
49.
Yoon Suyeon was singing.
On stage.
From his seat, Yoon Hajun watched her.
His little sister—the one who had given up so much because of him. And in the end, the one who said, “I had a dream too,” and left him.
He felt guilty about everything.
He wanted to return all the things he had only ever received in his previous life. That was why he gave up on becoming a singer and chose a different major—so he could repay his sister, even if only a little.
And right now, he was paying back a part of that debt.
For the first time, someone who had only ever taken… was finally able to do something for his sister.
It made him proud.
But this was only the beginning. He still had so much left to repay—to their mom, and to Suyeon.
—Come hang out at my place.
Let’s turn off our phones for a bit.
At that moment, people in the audience started singing along.
Hajun’s eyes widened.
Yes—this highlight, the part Suyeon was singing right now, was the section he’d put the most thought into. He made it easy to sing along, but still deeply addictive. Then he dropped the melody by a full octave to make it pop, and used a simple line anyone could hum.
But he never expected people to actually sing along.
Hajun bit his lip.
They were singing their song.
They were happily singing along to the song he made.
When he was an active singer, he’d never even imagined something like this.
“Ah…”
A sound—almost like a groan—escaped Hajun’s lips.
What was he supposed to call this feeling?
For the sister who always gave… he had finally done something in return.
People were singing the song he made.
“Seriously…”
His chest tightened with emotion.
He didn’t know how to describe it, but this stage felt different from every other one he’d prepared until now.
Hajun slowly looked around.
The audience was smiling, enjoying Suyeon’s performance with relaxed expressions.
Objectively speaking, Suyeon’s stage wasn’t overwhelming. It didn’t have shocking development like “Blame.” It didn’t have the suffocating production of “Rough.” It wasn’t as hype as Taeyoung’s or Seonghun’s “Flowing.”
But the performance that would linger the longest in people’s minds—would be “Come Home.”
The song neared its end.
Hajun turned back to the stage.
A stage decorated with cute little props. At the center, Suyeon sat on the bed, smiling softly as she sang. A warm orange light gently illuminated her.
People would remember that sight for a long time.
And they would wonder—
Who is she?
Who was that girl who sang that song?
The entertainment companies would look for Suyeon. Unlike him, their eyes wouldn’t be clouded.
But—not yet.
It wasn’t time for contracts. It wasn’t time to expose Suyeon’s talent to the public.
Yes, “Come Home” was a good song. But it couldn’t show Suyeon’s true potential.
Which was why—
Their fifth project.
“Addressee Unknown.”
The song he made for his first major exam. A song not meant for anyone else. A song filled with his own story. A digital release scheduled in collaboration with Seolwon Arts High.
And the one who would sing it… would be Yoon Suyeon.
In that song, she would show everything she was capable of.
Not anyone else—he would make sure of it.
Thinking of that moment, Hajun clenched his fist.
§ § §
The two-day festival finally ended.
Once it was over, the Practical Music Department grew noisy for all kinds of reasons.
First, of course, was talk about the festival itself. The students talked most about the performances from Kim Taeyoung, Kang Seonghun, Han Goyo, and Yoon Hajun.
Those four were now famous not just in the music department, but throughout the entire school.
Kang Seonghun was getting calls from agencies asking for his song.
Han Goyo was getting love calls from countless agencies every single day.
Kim Taeyoung was also receiving a fair number of offers—though he didn’t seem very interested. He said he wanted to fully enjoy his school life first, then join an agency later.
And lastly—Yoon Hajun.
Through Han Goyo and Jin Sohyang, Hajun had already shown overwhelming stage direction, so his performance had been the talk of the school even before the festival.
Who would he work with this time?
What kind of song would he make?
What kind of stage would he create?
The songs he wrote inspired the other students, and his stage direction made people gasp in admiration. Naturally, the music department students had been eagerly waiting for Hajun’s stage.
But the song he prepared this time… was far more low-key than expected.
Maybe their expectations had been too high?
The song felt ordinary.
The stage direction wasn’t flashy.
Yeah, that’s what they thought—until they actually saw it.
But after the festival ended, and even the next day… the stage that lingered in their memories the most was Hajun’s.
The song he wrote—and the clear, transparent voice that sang it—kept echoing in their heads.
Soon, he even heard classmates humming “Come Home.”
Hajun let out a small laugh when he heard it.
The festival had gone just as expected. Suyeon, who had successfully delivered her performance, was over the moon. Her vocal trainer, Lee Jiyoon, also looked very satisfied. And of course, Hajun himself was extremely pleased.
Now, all that was left—was to use “Addressee Unknown” to show the world Suyeon’s talent.
And the second reason the department was in an uproar—
The upcoming Winter Festival in the second semester.
There was only one month left until November. And once the Winter Festival ended, final exams and the major exam would immediately follow. Of course the students were restless.
They discussed what songs to sing for the performance practicum, and if they were composition majors, who to pair up with.
And of course, the most attention was on the same five people: Han Goyo, Kang Seonghun, Kim Taeyoung, Jin Sohyang, and Yoon Hajun.
What kind of stage would they prepare?
Who would they perform with?
What kind of song would it be?
Naturally, students began to keep an eye on those five.
It was obvious. These events weren’t graded on an absolute scale—but a relative one. Everyone was a rival.
“Hey, you’re doing it with me, right?”
Kim Taeyoung walked up to the absentminded Hajun and asked as if it were a given.
The festival was over. He was ready to focus on the song now.
Taeyoung was overflowing with confidence. He might have lost to Hajun at the last event, but this time, he was certain—he would be the one to stand on the best stage with Hajun.
As Taeyoung barely held back his excitement, Hajun shook his head.
“No.”
“…What, bastard?”
Taeyoung snapped back before he even realized it.
What? No?
No, hold on—
You said you’d give me that song for the festival! Do you know how hard I prepared?!
Just as he was about to explode, Hajun spoke.
“That one’s your stage.”
“…What?”
“That song is your stage. I have my own song.”
In other words—Hajun had prepared two songs.
Taeyoung blinked.
That one is for my stage? Then… what about his?
Wait. No way—
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to use that song you made from that painting… for the event?”
At Taeyoung’s words, Hajun nodded.
Taeyoung let out a scream and clutched his head.
He wanted to be the main character this time!
No, wait.
It’s not like I have to win. The song I’m singing is also written by Hajun. And it’s not like the quality is any worse…
“…Fine. It’s war!”
“…What the hell, you lunatic.”
Hajun muttered as Taeyoung—who had been tearing at his hair—suddenly stood up and shouted. He looked completely insane.
“So who are you giving that song to? Han Goyo? Or Jin Sohyang again?”
At Taeyoung’s question, Hajun went quiet for a moment. He thought for a bit, then said—
“Mm… maybe both?”
“…What, you bastard?”
That’s cheating.
Taeyoung scowled.
§ § §
“Huu…”
Before opening the practice room door, Hajun let out a deep sigh.
Ever since the festival stage, he hadn’t had a proper conversation with Han Goyo. He’d texted her, but she never replied.
Carefully, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it. Then he stepped into the practice room.
She was there.
As always—naturally. Like she was just another part of the room.
“Hey.”
He walked over carefully and greeted her.
…Weird.
Why did that feel so awkward just now?
He’d never felt like this around her before.
But he couldn’t help it. Thinking about what she’d said about Suyeon—and that disastrous performance—he couldn’t act normal.
“Mm.”
But Han Goyo was the same as always. She looked at him with her usual indifferent eyes and nodded.
For some reason… he felt relieved.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Ah. You’re breathing.”
Once again, Han Goyo nodded.
Yeah. Still not the type to get jokes.
“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the Winter Festival—”
“Okay.”
“…I’m not done talking yet.”
“You want to work with me, right?”
Hajun nodded.
“Okay. If it’s you.”
“Ah… yeah.”
He answered, but it felt unbearably awkward.
“Thanks?”
“Mm.”
This wouldn’t do.
They had to prepare for the event, and they couldn’t keep being awkward like this. They needed to get back to normal, fast.
What should he do?
After thinking for a moment, he let out a sigh and said—
“Goyo.”
She looked at him.
Her eyes were slightly wide—almost surprised.
“Let’s talk.”
He figured it was time for a serious conversation.
He’d been thinking about what she’d said to him for a while.
“You’ll know,” she had said.
But he wasn’t someone who could read people’s hearts without words. He wasn’t a psychic. He wasn’t someone who could perfectly understand people.
If anything… he believed that understanding each other required talking.
And come to think of it—he’d never really sat down and had a deep conversation with Han Goyo. She didn’t talk much. And he wasn’t the type to pry.
But this couldn’t go on. He wanted to keep working with her in the future.
Yes, the center would always be Suyeon… but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to collaborate with his other friends.
So he was taking a step forward—to define his relationship with Han Goyo more clearly.
At his suggestion, Han Goyo went quiet.
Awkward silence. Again.
This one felt especially uncomfortable.
But soon, Han Goyo nodded.
“Today okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Then after all the classes, let’s go to a café.”
“Okay.”
“See you later.”
With that, Han Goyo left the practice room.
Alone in the now strangely spacious room, Hajun stared for a moment—then left as well.
§
[Event stage?]
-Yeah.
[I’m in! I really wanted to perform on your stage again! I’d love to!]
-Ok ok thanks.
[Then I’ll see you in the practice room later! Ah, and our album is scheduled for release in January!]
-Oh, congrats. Then you won’t be able to come to school after the festival, huh?
[No way~ I still have the major exam in December! I’ll stay until then lol]
-Ah, true. Got it. Let’s talk later.
[Yes! Please contact me again! Promise! Promise!!!]
After reading Jin Sohyang’s message—full of the word “promise” over and over—Hajun put his phone away.
Good. That meant Jin Sohyang was secured.
Now, only one person left to recruit: Han Goyo.
He sighed and sipped his coffee.
Right now, he was sitting in the café where he and Han Goyo had agreed to meet. Originally, he wanted to talk in the practice room, but then he remembered Kim Taeyoung—and realized that was impossible. So they decided to meet at a café near the school instead.
How long had he waited?
The café door opened, and Han Goyo walked in.
He raised his hand. She spotted him and came over.
“Did you wait long?”
“I just got here too.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Han Goyo nodded, relieved.
Hajun handed her the iced americano he’d ordered for her.
She hesitated for a moment, then took a sip.
Her eyebrows furrowed violently, and she muttered—
“Bitter.”
“…Then drink something else.”
She really didn’t seem to like bitter things.
He reached to take the cup back, but she grabbed it.
“No, it’s fine.”
Then she drank it again, wearing a completely confused expression, like she couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly drink this.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Mmm.”
At her question, he took a sip of his coffee. Then, after letting a moment pass, he opened his mouth.
“About Suyeon.”
Han Goyo froze for a moment.
Watching her, Hajun continued.
“And about you.”
About the person called Han Goyo…
That he still didn’t fully understand.
That was what he wanted to hear.