15
## Chapter 15 — A Story I Want to Tell You
As soon as morning came, I boarded a ferry from Yeosu to Haenam.
Originally, instead of taking a ferry, I had planned to walk from Yeosu to Haenam along the Namparang Trail that
stretched down the southern coast.
But my plans changed.
Because of the music festival in Haenam.
If I traveled on foot, I’d have less time to practice for the festival.
Even though it wasn’t part of my original itinerary, riding the ferry had its own charm.
The endless horizon.
The small islands scattered beautifully across the South Sea.
And the seagulls freely soaring above them.
Simply admiring the scenery made me feel refreshed.
Still, there was one downside…
“…Ugh, my stomach. Urgh.”
I felt terribly nauseous.
And it wasn’t just seasickness.
“The beer I drank yesterday’s climbing back up my throat… ugh…”
It was because I had gotten completely swept up in the mood last night and drank like crazy.
‘How many cans did I even drink yesterday?’
I remembered buying one of those convenience store packs with eight beers in it, but I couldn’t remember exactly how
many I actually drank.
To be honest, I’d been so drunk that most of last night was blurry.
The one fortunate thing was that I still clearly remembered the chords of the improvised guitar riff I came up with.
“…I remember playing guitar on the beach, but after that my memory cuts off. I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?”
Alcohol was nice and all, but this was the problem with it.
Thankfully nobody had been around last night. If I’d caused trouble while blacked out, it would’ve been a disaster.
As I enjoyed the ocean scenery, I firmly resolved to drink less from now on.
“Haa~ I hope only good things happen in Haenam too~”
The owner of the Live Pub in Gwangju had described it like some little local singing contest, but a music festival was
still a music festival.
Thump.
Just thinking about singing in front of people again made my heart start racing.
[This ferry will soon arrive at Haenam Passenger Terminal.]
“Oh? We’re already here? Taking the ferry really is fast.”
And so, with excitement swelling inside me, I arrived in Haenam.
---
“Nice to meet you. You’re the substitute vocalist Mr. Kim from Gwangju sent over, right? I’m Park Sajang, the owner of
an LP bar here in Haenam. Feel free to speak comfortably.”
“Ah, yes…! Nice to meet you, Park Sajangnim!”
After arriving in Haenam, I headed to the address the Gwangju Live Pub owner had written down for me and met the band
members I’d be performing with at the festival.
“Thanks for coming. We were in real trouble because we couldn’t find a substitute vocalist. This is our band practice
room for <The Stretched Band>. I’m the leader and drummer, and the others play bass and keyboard.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Haha, nice to meet you, young man.”
“Yes, hello! I joined suddenly, but please take care of me! …By the way, is your band really called Band>?”
I tilted my head at the unfamiliar name, and Park Sajang burst into loud laughter before slapping his stomach.
“When you get older, your belly sticks out and your waistband keeps stretching. That’s why we’re called Stretched Band>. Hahaha.”
“Our hyung came up with the name. Doesn’t it suit us perfectly?”
“Ah… haha. Yeah, it really does.”
The band had such a strong “middle-aged dad” vibe that I couldn’t help smiling.
The members were all middle-aged men old enough to be my father.
“So are you all professional musicians?”
“Haha, not professionals—just hobbyists. We’ve all got families and jobs to take care of. We only gather on
weekends to play music.”
Even so, just looking at the instruments they carried, their love for music was obvious.
The instruments were old, but they were clean and polished so carefully that you could tell how treasured they
were.
And on each member’s fingers were red calluses from years of harsh practice.
Seeing that somehow made me trust them.
Even though we’d just met today, I felt like I could confidently entrust my back to them later on stage.
“You seem pretty young. How old are you?”
“Ah, I’m twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six?! Kyaa! You’re still in your prime! Mind if we speak casually?”
“Of course. Feel free, hyungs.”
“Then shall we start talking about the festival?”
The atmosphere grew warm and lively as we chatted.
And then—
“Our band’s screwed, kid.”
“…Screwed? …Excuse me?”
The moment I said they could speak comfortably, Park Sajang—the leader of <The Stretched Band>—immediately told me
the band’s current situation *very* comfortably.
But the band was screwed…?
I had literally just arrived in Haenam. Why was I already hearing that everything was doomed?
“D-Did something happen?”
“Something happened? Yep. Haha, the festival’s next week.”
“…What? The festival’s already next week? But the owner of the Gwangju Live Pub told me there was still plenty
of time?”
“Guess Kim Sajang didn’t hear. The schedule got moved up. By two weeks.”
“……”
We hadn’t even practiced together once yet, and the festival was already next week.
Flustered, I asked:
“…Then shouldn’t we start practicing immediately? What song are we performing?”
“It’s an original song by our <The Stretched Band>. The festival concept this year is original compositions.
But… it’s not completely finished yet.”
If it were a song I already knew, we could’ve synced up quickly.
But an original composition?
And it wasn’t even complete yet.
“…Still, you said it was a small festival mostly attended by grandparents, right? We could just enjoy the
stage without pressure and come down afterward—”
“Hm? Small festival? Kid, sounds like nobody properly explained this concert to you.”
“…It’s not small?”
“[Time-Traveling Concert: Haenam National Music Festival.] This thing’s been running for over ten years. From
amateur singers to old nostalgic artists, all sorts of people participate. It’s actually pretty prestigious
down here in the Honam region. Every year there are close to a thousand audience members too.”
“……”
No, Gwangju Live Pub owner.
You told me it was some tiny local festival where neighborhood grandparents casually gathered to watch.
You said to think of it like *National Singing Contest*.
Apparently this *National Singing Contest* had an audience of one thousand people.
“…So let me summarize. I’m supposed to sing <The Stretched Band>’s unfinished original song next week in front
of a thousand people at a festival?”
“Exactly.”
“We’re doomed.”
Yeah.
This was definitely doomed.
As I muttered gloomily, the members of <The Stretched Band> sighed apologetically.
“Sorry, kid. The schedule suddenly got moved up, and problems happened inside the band too. Haa… we’re
disappointed too.”
Judging by their expressions, something serious must’ve happened within the band.
“You clearly came here not knowing any of this. We can’t force this burden onto you. You can quit right
now if you want.”
“……”
The moment they told me I could leave immediately, conflict stirred inside me.
I wasn’t even an official member of <The Stretched Band>.
I was just a substitute vocalist filling in once.
There was no reason for me to force myself into such a reckless performance.
But—
when else would I ever get another chance to sing in front of a thousand people?
After thinking for a long while, I finally spoke to Park Sajang.
“…Then could I maybe listen to the original song first before deciding?”
“Hmm, sure. Want to hear it?”
At my request, Park Sajang pulled out his phone with a bitter smile.
“We recorded a rough version before. Hang on.”
Truthfully, I didn’t expect much from their original song.
No matter how experienced they were, <The Stretched Band> was still just a hobby band made up of
middle-aged men.
But—
—♬♩ ♬♪
“…Oh?”
The moment the recording began playing, I froze.
The lyrical and delicate melody soothed the soul, while the addictive piano performance layered over
it stirred strangely sorrowful emotions.
And then the lyrics began.
—*I saw you crying on your bed in a dark room*
The vocals were inexperienced—
yet sincere and calm enough to tug directly at my emotions.
—*Even if I tell you it’s okay, you probably won’t believe me*
—*But it really is okay*
—*What you call failure is only part of the process*
And softly supporting it all from behind was the chorus.
—*You still shine*
—*You’re still my pride*
The song sounded like it was comforting someone drowning in despair.
When the recording finally ended—
I stared blankly at Park Sajang and asked:
“…What’s this song called? Who composed it?”
“Ah, I wrote it myself. The title’s [A Story I Want to Tell You].”
“[A Story I Want to Tell You]?”
When I tilted my head at the title, Park Sajang explained how the song was born.
Apparently, he had a son in high school who had completely failed the college entrance exam last year.
Even though Park Sajang told him it was okay, his son became devastated, insisting his life was over.
“It’s just one exam. He can take it again. And even if he fails again and ends up at a mediocre
university, that doesn’t decide his whole life.”
Park Sajang said he wrote this song for his son, who cried alone in his room every single day.
“Getting into a good university’s important, sure. But going to a good university doesn’t
automatically make you a better person or guarantee a better life. Yet my son’s only twenty and
already thinks he’s a failure…”
“……”
“That broke my heart, so I turned those feelings into a song.”
Life was an endless chain of choices and processes.
University was merely one of countless steps along that road.
And not just university.
Even the painful failures stabbing at your heart right now were, in the grand scheme of life, merely
part of the process too.
Park Sajang wanted to teach his son that truth through music.
[A Story I Want to Tell You] carried a father’s sincere emotions toward his child.
Through this song, Park Sajang wanted to comfort his son.
“…Haha, it’s still unfinished, so the song feels a little empty, right? We’ve got the structure mostly
complete, but it still feels like it’s missing about two percent.”
And he was right.
[A Story I Want to Tell You] felt rough and unfinished overall.
With only one week left before the festival and the song still incomplete, Park Sajang already sounded
half-resigned.
But—
“Honestly, before you came, we were considering withdrawing from the festival entirely. …Sorry for
dragging you into this. We’ll at least compensate your travel expenses…”
“I think this could work.”
“…Hm?”
After listening to the song, I was actually filled with excitement instead.
Nothing was more beautiful than pure and sincere human emotion.
If a chef discovered the finest, rarest ingredient imaginable lying right in front of him, would he
simply walk away?
Right now, I felt as though I had stumbled across a rough, uncut diamond.
“…If it’s alright with you, could I help finish this song?”
“…E-Excuse me?”
I wanted to complete this song.
I wanted to sing this song.
Perhaps sensing my genuine passion, the eyes of Park Sajang and the rest of <The Stretched Band>
widened in shock.