Wrong Encounter: A Saturday in April at the Music School
April Saturday. At a certain music school. The flowers that haven't yet wilted still hold their morning dew, the outside air carries a slight chill, and the sunlight blazes fiercely. Chun-chu refers to spring and autumn, but it also implies the passage of time. At least the fallen leaves aren't red yet, so we've only reached halfway through the year. Come to think of it, the latter part of cheong-chun—youth—holds the same meaning as spring.
With such thoughts in mind, I gather in front of my alma mater's gate.
"What? You're already here."
Lara was there. Her faded jeans flap at the hems. Her white skin glows with the flush unique to youth—or maybe just makeup. Her cheeks are rosy.
"...You came?"
She must've dolled herself up thinking she was just hanging out with a guy her age. Lara, looking a bit tense, speaks to me unnaturally.
I approach her with steady steps.
"Lara, you heading out on a date or something?"
"...Huh?"
"She's still hung up on it? Her mindset's totally fucked."
Lara stares blankly with a dumb expression.
"What, you think we're going out to play or something? Isn't this about me helping you become a vocalist?"
"Th-that's... but we're still going out. What's wrong with dressing up?"
"Haa... You still haven't grasped the situation."
I scan Lara's outfit. White tee with a light beige cardigan. The t-shirt's thin fabric, at least—that's good. Jeans instead of a skirt isn't ideal, but hey.
"Canvas shoes... Tsk. Kinda ambiguous."
"H-hold on... What the hell are you talking about?"
"Listen, Lara. We're here for vocal training. And the basics of vocals are breathing. Which ties to cardiopulmonary function."
Whether it's chest voice, head voice, or falsetto, the foundation of all singing starts with breath control. Steady breathing gives songs room to breathe and builds a solid base.
"In other words—stretching it a bit—vocals require good cardio. And nothing builds cardio like running."
"...No way."
Yeah, exactly that.
Too late to figure it out now.
"Lara, we're walking—no, running—to the spot we agreed on."
"...That's seven kilometers!"
"First day, so I cut three K from ten. Be grateful for the consideration."
Lara stands there dazed at my words, and I shake my head at her. Tsk tsk.
"Wait! I never heard about this! Why tell me now?!"
"If I told you, you'd whine, maybe bail, and even if you showed, I'd waste time convincing you with my bullshit."
But tell her on the day? She's already here—no-shows impossible. No convincing needed. Plus, no Saturday morning nagging. Zero risk, perfect plan.
The only downside? Lara might physically lash out.
"What the fuck?! You kidding me?!"
Now fully clued in, Lara snaps at me on reflex.
"I'm not going if it's like this! This is treating me like an idiot!"
Pretty ballsy attitude when she should be begging. Whatever. I'm not the desperate one.
"Don't wanna? Fine, don't. Not forcing you. You can ditch the group too."
"...N-no, not that far..."
"But Lara, who else you gonna learn from?"
"..."
"You haven't told the teachers, so parents don't know. Gonna pay for lessons yourself? Or beg friends and teachers outright?"
This school's full of shitty people but great vocalists. Endure some pride loss, shame, and stares—easy.
In that sense, Lara choosing this school was spot-on.
"But come on. You've been saying flute major this whole time. Can you just switch to 'I wanna do vocals' now?"
"..."
If she could, she wouldn't be here. No courage for that, so she clings to me—followed me eagerly 'cause I'd teach her.
"Bottom line, you need me whether you like it or not, Lara. I'm the boss."
"......Fuck."
"Got it? Run. Appointment's in two hours—pick up the pace."
"Fuuuck! For real?!"
Unable to contain her rage, Lara bolts ahead. Watching her, I think: nothing fuels goal-chasing like desperation.
"Haa... haa...!"
"Focus on breathing! Don't just gasp—pull from your diaphragm."
"Ugh... hnggh...!"
"Huh? Your breathing's all over. Short inhale, long exhale. You gonna sing like that? Wanna go back to no-contest Lara, you punk?"
I coach her running from the side. Feels good, like a boxer's trainer. Lara starts strong but crashes after 2K, panting hard. Spring's not hot, but it's the warmest season. Running under that sun? Sweat city. Cardigan's long gone; dark stains mark her white tee's back, neck, pits.
She slows, glances at me.
"Huff... haa. C-can we rest a bit...?"
Her legs tremble. I hand her water from my bag. She tilts her head back, gulps it down, then glares fiercely.
3K in, she's wrecked. Decent pace for a non-athletic high school girl. But for vocals? Nah.
"Hey, collapsing already? We're not even halfway."
"You... haa! Ride a bike! Shared bike all by yourself!"
"You doing vocals? I'm a composer—stamina's optional. I'm walking instead of busing to coach you... and personal reasons."
"Personal reasons...?"
"No bus fare."
"..."
Her eyes scream pity. She sighs deep, fiddles with the bottle cap.
"...I'll cover your fare. Bus now?"
"Nah, can't. How do I borrow from someone I'm not that close to?"
"..."
I'm Seonggwang, fence-sitter who values distance. Especially money—be strict. Even small amounts from near-strangers? Bad form. Rude.
"Fucking cheapskate."
She bonks my chest with the bottle, bends and stretches her legs.
"No-fare guy, how'd you ride the bike?"
"Huh?"
"Shared bikes cost money. Per hour, right?"
I glance down at the bike.
"Costs to ride this?"
"......You didn't know?"
"Thought it was free. App kept nagging for bank info."
Would've known if I'd ridden one. Only transport: subway, manager's car. Bikes cost? Who knew.
"Uh... per hour, yeah?"
I park it quietly, end session in app. Bill: about 20,000 won.
"...Lara?"
"......"
Her glare ices over. I smile sheepishly.
"Between friends... can I borrow 2,000 won?"
She eyes me like trash, tsks. We find a nearby bus, arrive in under 10 minutes.
On the bus, Lara sits apart, citing sweat smell. Destination: Daehangno.
Youth's scent fills the air—home to bards singing of poverty's romance.
"Been a while. You ever been?"
"Once on a weekday with friends."
"Scope it now. Daehangno's fun on Saturdays."
Buskers everywhere, folks strumming chairs, humming. Spectators watch; others pass by. Rarely filmed—not out of respect for music...
"Busking's that common. Every Saturday—why bother recording? They suck anyway."
Buskers glare uncomfortably. Lara notices, sticks close to my back, eyes rolling at the youthful vibe. Under the clear sky, singing youths are charming enough. Truth: Lara's friends sing better. But the atmosphere spices it up.
"Youth's great... Enjoy it now, Lara."
"We're the same age."
"Tch! Experience differs, kid. Don't compare your green ass to mine."
"What the...?"
We cross parks and streets to a theater troupe. Unlike the bright streets above, it's deep underground. Steep stairs down to a stage right there.
Empty stage. A lone girl stands under a single light, singing to vacant seats. Her gaze meets the shadows. Song from shade to light echoes wide in the closed space.
"..."
I ask Lara, staring blankly.
"To you, does she sing exceptionally well?"
"Dunno... but something keeps you watching."
Yeah. She's good—not Junwoo or pro level. Lara's heard better, but this has pull beyond skill.
"Time to say hi. Tell her straight—she'll love it. Total attention whore."
"Huh? Interrupting practice? Stranger...?"
"Stranger? She's teaching you today."
"Huh?"
No shock needed. I climb onstage, ignoring wide-eyed Lara. My footsteps on wood draw her gaze. She stops, hands on hips.
"Long time no see, Jeongyeon noona."
She smirks, flicks my forehead.
"Yeah, you cocky punk. Only call when you need something?"
"We're not that close, right?"
"Oh? Then why beg me for help?"
She slaps my cheek lightly, eyes the dazed Lara.
"The kid you mentioned? Cute as hell."
Every time: weird word choice. Cute as hell? First impressions?
I beckon Lara. She trots over like a called dog, bows deeply.
"H-hi! I'm Shin Lara...!"
"Lara? Unique name."
"Right? See...?"
"Not teasing. I like it. Impactful for intros. Lara."
Jeongyeon noona smiles cutely at her; Lara smiles back shyly. Mood thawed—time for intros, my cue.
"Ahem."
I clear throat, turn to Lara.
"This is Lee Jeongyeon, my noona. And your teacher today."
"Hi~ I'm Lee Jeongyeon, your one-day teacher~"
Lara bows again, eyes me questioningly. Name alone's not enough—need creds. I hype her up.
"Korean National University of Arts student."
"K-Arts? For real? That department's brutal! My friends gun for it!"
Lara's eyes sparkle with respect. Jeongyeon lifts chin, shrugs proudly. Lara's reactions are gold—genuine flattery, unlike my fake it.
She's a natural flirt.
"You're pretty too, Lara. Long fingers—great proportions. Sis sees talent right away."
"Th-thanks."
"Details later... Sorry for the rush, but can you show what you've prepped?"
"P-prepped?"
"Yeah, something you can sing now? I can play music."
Lara mumbles pop song titles. Jeongyeon tilts head, smiles awkwardly.
"Not that—musical numbers? Or opera?"
Lara knows none she can sing on spot.
"N-none..."
She deflates. Jeongyeon looks disappointed, gapes at me.
"Sorry... I'd have prepped if I knew."
Lara grovels. Jeongyeon startles, apologizes frantically.
"No! First time—normal. This punk didn't tell you, right?"
Bingo. She knows me well. Jeongyeon trashes me to cheer Lara; I hear it live.
"Songs don't matter much~ Acting's key! Show us your free acting, Lara?"
"...Acting?"
"Yeah! No prep? Improv etude! Super important here~ Confidence!"
Lara glares at me. I shrug. She asks.
"Um... Jeongyeon... nim?"
"Just unnie. Or teacher."
"Jeongyeon teacher... Does acting matter for singing?"
Jeongyeon's face hardens. She puzzles it out, then asks back.
"...You here for acting?"
"No? Vocal aspirant..."
They lock eyes, then whip glares at me. I waited for this. Smiling at the moment, I re-introduce.
"This is Shin Lara, vocal hopeful. This is Lee Jeongyeon, musical actress. Say hi."
"......"
"......"
Lara pinches my arm.
"Hey, what the hell?"
She's shaking, demanding explanation. Unless convincing, she'll swing.
"K-Arts! What?!"
Ah, the mix-up. I clarify.
"Lara, she is K-Arts."
"Then...!"
"Theater and Film department. Not voice."
"......"
"Didn't lie?"
Jeongyeon—who knows me—grabs her aching forehead: This punk again. Newbie Lara twitches lips in rage. Seeing her betrayed fury, I think again: Lara's reactions are gold.