Chapter 8
“I’m sorry!”
He hung up the phone in a hurry, as if escaping from an audition notice.
He’d already lost count of how many such calls he’d gotten today.
Across the small breakroom, Yoon Ah-young, who had just set the kettle on, raised an eyebrow.
“Parents again?”
“No, orchestra contacts. They keep telling me to come audition since yesterday…”
Ah-young blinked as though she hadn’t quite understood. Feeling awkward — like he was boasting — Do-yoon only shook his head and stared at the phone.
Of course he wanted to join an orchestra.
More than that — wasn’t that the dream he had held since the very first moment his fingers touched piano keys?
And yet, he had no choice but to decline.
Because what they sought was not Kim Do-yoon the pianist,
but his right hand.
It was true that his right hand had been both a blessing and a curse.
But if the world recognized only that hand, and not him, then he would forever remain half a person — half a pianist.
At least the first orchestra I join… should be one that seeks Kim Do-yoon, not just his right hand.
Ah-young’s gentle voice broke his thoughts.
“You look worried, teacher.”
He flinched and lifted his head. She was smiling faintly, stirring her coffee stick.
“Would you like a cup too?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
She poured water into a second cup and handed it over.
As he reached for it, his gaze drifted toward the window.
“The weather’s beautiful.”
“Mm. On days like this,” she said, half joking, “something always happens.”
“If something does, I’ll cheer you on.”
He smiled back at her teasing tone and took the coffee.
But that afternoon, something did happen at the piano academy.
Not to Yoon Ah-young—
but to him.
< 008 >
The director’s office door creaked open.
“Who said that nonsense?!”
“I–I only said what I heard…”
The first thing he saw was Director Kang Mi-ryeo raising her voice, and Teacher Park Min-jung flinching before her.
Do-yoon frowned slightly. Another problem?
He quietly stepped in and took a seat. Yoon Ah-young, sitting nearby, looked just as uneasy.
Even Gong Seok-hyun had already quit voluntarily — was someone else causing trouble again?
“What’s going on?”
“There’s… a strange rumor,” Ah-young murmured.
“What kind of rumor would make the director that angry—”
“Mr. Kim,” Kang Mi-ryeo cut in sharply, “could you step outside for a moment?”
Her eyes wavered when they met his.
“Please. Just for a bit.”
He blinked in confusion but obeyed. The moment he stepped out into the hallway, a strange unease wrapped around his throat.
He knew.
It was about him.
He didn’t even need to hear the words — the faces inside had said enough.
What kind of rumor would they hide from him?
He had lived a hard, quiet life — he’d never done anything shameful.
In truth, he hadn’t even had the time to do so.
He found out that evening.
Because the parents came storming into the academy.
“I want to see the director right now!”
“Ma’am, please—! The director will be out soon, if you just wait—”
Yoon Ah-young was struggling to calm them when one of the women suddenly pointed a finger straight at his face.
“Isn’t that him?! That’s Kim Do-yoon, isn’t it?!”
He froze, utterly stunned. The woman’s voice cracked with anger.
“You! How dare you teach children after beating one for not listening?!”
“Ma’am!” Ah-young gasped.
Do-yoon turned, completely speechless.
Did she just say I hit a student?
“Ms. Yoon, wait.”
He took a step forward, but before he could move any further, Kang Mi-ryeo rushed past and stepped between him and the parents.
“Let’s talk privately, ma’am.”
“Oh, I see how it is, Director Kang!”
Mi-ryeo shot a quick glance at Ah-young.
“Take him away. Now.”
“Wha— wait!”
“No questions. Move!”
Ah-young dragged him down the hall to the staff lounge. The other teachers quickly vacated, pretending not to notice.
He exhaled sharply.
“What the hell is all this?”
“Apparently there’s some weird rumor going around among the parents. The director’s trying to confirm it now.”
“A weird rumor… about me hitting students?”
Ah-young hesitated, then nodded quietly.
He couldn’t even speak.
Hit someone? Me?
Of course, there was one person he’d once wanted to beat to death —
the one who ruined his wrist.
But that man was half a world away now.
“I’ll go ask them directly.”
“Mr. Kim!” Ah-young grabbed his sleeve. His right hand tapped his thigh twice, as if telling him to stay calm.
“You know those parents — you won’t get a word in edgewise.”
He sighed, defeated, and sat back down.
* * *
That same hour, in a café near the academy.
Seven parents sat in a row, glaring at Kang Mi-ryeo like a tribunal. Even other customers were staring.
“Explain yourself.”
“How could you let a man like that near children? The poor student’s in therapy from the trauma! It’s horrifying!”
Mi-ryeo exhaled slowly.
“Where exactly did you hear that rumor?”
“Oh, so you’re denying it?”
“Kim Do-yoon is someone I’ve known for years,” she said firmly.
“He cried for a month when his dog died. The idea that he’d traumatize a child— it’s absurd.”
“Then explain So-eun’s performance! How do you justify that?!”
“What…?”
“You saw it! She messed up because of him — what else could make her stumble like that?”
The memory flashed through Mi-ryeo’s mind — Choi So-eun’s disastrous first measure of Black Keys Étude.
“That was just—”
“I knew something was off from the start,” another parent interrupted.
“A man from Eastman School working at some countryside piano academy? Obviously hiding something!”
Mi-ryeo went pale.
She remembered six months ago — when Do-yoon had first shown up.
‘Do you have a teaching position open?’
‘Actually, I was about to hire someone…’
‘Then please take me.’
‘Why? Do you need money?’
‘…I’ll work hard, Auntie.’
That was all he’d said.
And she hadn’t asked more — because the boy before her had looked as though he might break at any moment.
Do-yoon… couldn’t have…
She’d known him all his life. She trusted him — yet if there was even the slightest chance…
The parents stood abruptly.
“You clearly don’t know anything. We’ll talk at the academy tomorrow!”
* * *
10 p.m. — Cantabile Piano Academy.
The ticking clock echoed painfully in the dark.
Do-yoon sat alone, anxiety crawling up his throat.
Where did this go wrong?
Calling it a baseless rumor felt naive. The situation was spiraling.
Click.
The door opened. Kang Mi-ryeo entered, weary but composed.
“Still here?”
“Auntie.”
Her expression told him everything — it hadn’t gone well.
“Auntie… what’s this about me hitting a student?”
“Sit down.”
She removed her coat and took a seat. He followed, his pulse loud in his ears.
Long silence.
She opened her mouth several times, but no words came.
“Do-yoon.”
“Yes?”
“Did you… come back from America for a reason?”
He almost blurted, Because I couldn’t afford hospital bills.
Instead, he swallowed it.
“…I’ll tell you later.”
The silence between them was heavy.
How could he say it?
That his wrist bones had shattered — that the son his mother had sacrificed her whole life for could no longer play piano?
If Mi-ryeo knew, then his mother would too.
And his mother — who had devoted everything to his dream —
how could he tell her that dream lay in pieces?
“Alright,” Mi-ryeo said softly.
“Don’t worry about this. I’ll handle it.”
* * *
He didn’t sleep that night.
“This is insane…”
If this continued, the academy might go under — because of him. Even if he quit quietly, the stain would follow.
He could either hurt those he loved
or speak the truth and risk everything.
He groaned, ruffling his hair. His right hand tapped his thigh, then slipped him a note.
【Just tell them the truth.】
“If Mom hears, she might collapse.”
【If the academy collapses, you’ll both collapse.】
“You’re… not wrong.”
He sighed. Crude or not, the hand made a point. If the academy fell because of him, how would his mother face her sister?
After a long pause, he rose and opened the desk drawer.
Inside lay a dust-covered USB.
“Didn’t think I’d ever need this again…”
By the time he arrived at the academy, it was already past noon.
The parents were waiting at the entrance like sentinels, fury in their eyes.
“Oh, how leisurely you show up!”
“The nerve of this man!”
“Let’s go to the director’s office,” he said quietly.
They snorted but followed.
He knocked.
“Come in.”
The room fell silent as he stepped inside.
Director Kang and the teachers froze; Ah-young’s face turned white.
“M–Mr. Kim!”
“Didn’t you hear you weren’t supposed to come today?”
“It’s alright.”
He smiled faintly and took a seat. The parents sat too, arms crossed, waiting to pounce.
“My daughter, Da-bin, hasn’t been eating lately,” one said coldly.
“Da-bin? Why—”
“Don’t act innocent! You know exactly why!”
Their glares burned holes through him.
If I tell them she’s on a diet, they’ll probably slap me.
One accusation after another spilled forth.
“So-young’s seeing a psychiatrist now, in case you didn’t know!”
“Mine too! She used to laugh all the time, now she barely speaks!”
He watched quietly, memorizing each name.
When they finally ran out of words, the room fell into a brittle silence. Then one parent sneered.
“Well? Say something! Defend yourself!”
“We’re still missing someone,” he said calmly.
“Who else—”
Click.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Go Ye-rim entered, bowing politely. Relief swept over the parents — to them, she was the mother of the victim, Choi So-eun.
“So-eun’s mother! You’re here!”
“Good. Now let’s hear what he has to say.”
Do-yoon stood, unzipped his bag, and took out a large envelope.
“Before we talk,” he said quietly,
“please look at this first.”
“And what’s this supposed to be?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out a few printed pages — and the USB.
“You asked why a man from Eastman School would teach at a small piano academy,” he said evenly.
“This is your answer.”
He plugged the USB into the projector. The light flickered against the whiteboard.
“The answer,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “is right here.”
