7
## Chapter 7 — Live Pub
“Alright, this is my place. Pretty nice, huh?”
“Wow…”
The place the old man led me to was a small Live Pub located in the basement of a shopping building.
The “night work” he had mentioned earlier—which had caused such a misunderstanding—apparently meant working one night at this pub.
After all, Live Pubs were nighttime businesses.
“The place may be small, but it’s got everything you need.”
“You’re right.”
At the old man’s confident words, I could only nod.
The colorful lighting decorating the interior wasn’t tacky at all, and the seating made up of bar stools and sofa tables looked perfect for relaxing with a drink.
Most importantly—
though modest, the stage and instruments were kept incredibly clean and well-maintained.
Piano, guitar, bass, drums—
even a saxophone, trumpet, contrabass, and harmonica.
“Looks like this place mainly hosted jazz performances.”
“Well, it’s a Live Pub. People can do whatever kind of performance they want here. We had a lot of jazz performances, but we also invited plenty of part-time singers.”
As he spoke, the pub owner pointed toward the microphones and sound equipment nearby.
“If there’s no guest singer, customers sometimes get on stage themselves and sing casually like karaoke.”
“Wow… that’s kind of romantic.”
The venue itself might’ve been small, but not a single instrument or piece of equipment had been neglected.
This little Live Pub felt like a hidden sanctuary filled with musicians’ dreams.
“Hehe, right? Back in my youth, I poured my whole青春 into music! …Though I never succeeded with it. But music is my life! You know? Hahaha!”
The way he spoke carried an unmistakable love for music.
Sure, he was a little eccentric, but he definitely wasn’t a bad person.
In fact, he was so generous he had already paid me double what I earned at the curry shop—and even gave it to me in advance.
“So then… all I need to do here is play the piano? What kind of songs should I prepare…?”
“Ahh! Didn’t I tell you already? Here, you just perform whatever kind of stage *you* want. What songs should you play? That’s up to you. Any song, any performance you want. I invited you because I want to spend tonight enjoying music together—with my regular customers and a piano genius like you!”
Even after paying a massive 800,000 won for a single night’s part-time work, the old man didn’t force anything on me.
Romance.
That wasn’t something exclusive to the young.
This man, enjoying what he loved without being tied down by anything—
was the very definition of a romantic soul.
“I understand… A performance I want to do…”
Like a bird soaring freely through the sky, the old man looked cool.
And I envied him.
Someone timid like me, with almost no self-esteem, could never live that kind of life.
A free-spirited artist’s life like his.
Maybe that was why I stared at him with a slightly bitter expression.
The old man burst into loud laughter and walked toward the bar.
“There’s still some time before opening hours, so let’s have a drink first!”
“Alcohol? Ah… um, actually, I’m not really…”
“What? You can’t drink well? That’s fine! I’ll mix you a cocktail—”
Watching him grab a whiskey bottle with practiced familiarity, I awkwardly interrupted him.
“No, it’s not that… It’s just… I’ve never actually drunk alcohol before.”
“……What?”
For the first time, the always-cheerful old man’s face turned deadly serious.
As if he had just encountered some incomprehensible lifeform.
“S-Student… are you perhaps underage?”
“…No. I’m twenty-six in Korean age.”
“B-But you’ve never drunk alcohol before? Not even once? Seriously…?”
“I mean… I’ve had one sip before…”
Back during a military dinner gathering, the unit distributed one bottle of soju for every two soldiers.
I took one sip back then, got shocked by how bitter it tasted, and immediately spat it out.
“You’ve never had drinks with friends either?”
“…I don’t really have friends to drink with.”
I’d spent nearly fifteen out of my twenty-six years shut inside my room.
Of course I didn’t have friends.
When I shook my head, the old man muttered with an indescribably devastated expression:
“…There are humans capable of living without alcohol?”
…Humans could obviously survive without alcohol.
Since when had alcohol become a biological necessity?
As we stared at each other, both utterly incapable of understanding the other, the old man finally nodded in acceptance.
“Well, I guess if life gets weird enough, someone *could* go twenty-six years without drinking. Hahaha! Then tonight’ll be your very first time getting drunk!”
“But honestly… I don’t really like alcohol. It’s just bitter and doesn’t taste good…”
“What? Alcohol just tastes bitter? Come on! That’s only because you’ve never had the good stuff! Hold on a second!”
The old man immediately pulled out several whiskey bottles lined along the wall and began shaking a cocktail shaker with excitement.
After mixing the drink carefully, he strained it over ice into a cocktail glass, placed an unfamiliar fruit on top, and handed it to me.
“There! Finished!”
“What is this…? Is that a plum on top?”
“A plum? No! That’s an olive. This cocktail’s a Martini.”
A Martini.
Even someone uninterested in alcohol like me had heard of it before.
“They say you can judge a bartender’s skill by his Martini. Heh, give it a try! Believe it or not, I even won a participation award at a bartender competition!”
…Wasn’t a participation award just something everyone got for showing up?
I didn’t fully trust him, but I decided to humor him and took a cautious sip.
And then—
“……Huh?”
A whole new world opened before me.
“…It’s good?”
“Right?! It’s good, isn’t it?!”
Unlike soju—which had felt flavorless and purely bitter—the Martini started crisp and clean before revealing a strong taste afterward, though not overwhelmingly so.
And when I bit into the olive sitting on top—
Crunch.
The olive’s salty flavor added another layer of richness.
It was a completely different world from plain bitter soju.
Gulp. Gulp.
As I quickly finished the entire glass after falling in love with the Martini, the old man watched me proudly.
“Martinis are usually a love-it-or-hate-it kind of cocktail, but you drink it well. The moment I first saw you, I knew you had the face of someone who’d love alcohol.”
“…I’m not sure that’s actually a compliment.”
“Hey now! Artists and alcohol go hand in hand! Of course it’s a compliment! Alright, onto the next one! This time I’ll make something sweeter!”
And with that, he immediately prepared another cocktail and set it in front of me.
“This one’s a Gin and Tonic. Much easier to drink than a Martini.”
“…!”
This cocktail was a Gin and Tonic.
The moment I took a sip, lemon and herbal aromas burst through my mouth with refreshing clarity.
If someone drank it without knowing, they might not even realize it contained alcohol.
Cool, crisp, refreshing—
followed by just a slight hint of bitterness lingering afterward.
“I-It’s delicious…!”
When I reacted with wide eyes, the old man laughed loudly.
“Hahaha! So you prefer sweeter drinks! Then next up—Long Island Iced Tea!”
“Waaah…!”
The old man loved alcohol just as much as he loved music.
Every time I finished one drink, he immediately made another.
And then another.
And little by little—
I awakened to the world of alcohol.
“Alright, kid, cheers! To tonight, to our long lives, and to our souls that’ll never disappear!”
“To us! Haha!”
And so, before opening hours began—
I drank a little… no, actually *quite a lot* of cocktails with the old man.
---
A Live Pub in Gwangju called *When the Moon Rises.*
“Hahaha! Let’s make this our third stop! There!”
“That place? Sounds good! Let’s go drink cocktails for the first time in a while!”
Located in the basement of a small shopping complex, it was a hidden gem known only to regulars.
The owner was incredibly cheerful, mixed excellent drinks, and maintained a great atmosphere, so loyal regulars were plentiful.
The two middle-aged office workers heading there now had once dreamed of becoming artists in their youth, but had instead spent over a decade working office jobs.
Whenever they got drunk and nostalgic, they often visited *When the Moon Rises.*
“Boss! We’re back again!”
“Two Daiquiris, please!”
It was currently 11:30 PM.
The Live Pub, which only opened late at night around 10 PM, was already packed with drunken customers just like them.
…Actually—
“Ah! You two came after a long time! Two Daiquiris! Got it! I’ll make them right away!”
Even the pub owner himself was already thoroughly drunk.
Shouldn’t the owner of a business avoid getting drunk?
But who cared?
As long as everyone was having fun, that was enough.
And so, around twenty regular customers gathered inside the tiny pub, drinking and chatting together.
Then—
Thunk.
The drunk owner suddenly climbed onto the stage, cutting off the romantic background music playing through the speakers.
“Alright, everyone! It’d be a shame to let tonight pass normally, right? So I brought in an incredible piano man for you all!”
“WOOOOOOAH—!”
The customers erupted into cheers at the announcement of a guest performance.
And through those cheers—
“Huh? That kid? Hahaha, why’s he wearing a mask over his face?”
“Looks like he’s already completely drunk too! Wahahaha!”
A young man wearing a half-mask reminiscent of the Phantom of the Opera stepped onto the stage.
Like everyone else there, he appeared drunk, and perhaps because he was naturally shy, his shoulders were slightly hunched in front of the crowd.
But then—
“H-Hellooo!! I’m tonight’s performer…! Uh… um… you can just call me whatever you want! I’m a little shy, so please understand why I’m covering my face! Anyway, thank you for having meee…!”
Perhaps empowered by alcohol, his voice was surprisingly spirited.
The customers burst into laughter and encouragement the moment they saw him.
“WOOOOOOAH—!”
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got! Hahaha!”
“Wahaha! Everyone better get excited! This kid’s piano skills are absolutely insane!”
With the owner confidently hyping him up, the young man sat down at the piano on stage.
The customers laughed and watched casually, though none of them actually expected much.
Why would a truly incredible pianist perform at a tiny Live Pub like this?
Up until now, the performers at *When the Moon Rises* had mostly been amateur pianists or aspiring singers.
“Hahaha! He’s so drunk I wonder if he can even hit the right piano keys!”
“Even if he messes up, let’s just have fun tonight!”
“Fighting! Ahahahaha!”
The customers assumed the young man on stage was simply another one of those dreamers.
And so, amidst the noisy atmosphere filled with cheering, laughter, and chatter—
the performance began.