CHAPTER 38
I quietly slipped back into the classroom and took my seat.
Thankfully, no one seemed to care that one student had briefly stepped out and returned.
The professor was busy explaining something while reading from the textbook.
Just then, Moon Ah-rin passed me a small note.
“…?”
I unfolded it, confused. In her round handwriting, it said:
[Nothing’s wrong, right? You suddenly ran out after looking at your phone.]
Moon Ah-rin wore her usual expression—gentle eyes, a soft smile, looking as if she was sincerely worried about me.
I forced a smile and picked up my pen.
Scratch, scratch.
[It’s nothing. I just really had to use the bathroom.]
She smiled slightly and nodded.
Then she turned her gaze back to the front.
While half-listening to the professor’s lecture, I replayed the phone call I’d just had with Min Chan-hyuk.
—
“Seol! Is now really okay to talk?!”
“For a moment. But what’s going on? You’ve never called me this urgently during class.”
“Hey, I’m not exaggerating. I almost had a heart attack just now!”
“What happened?”
“Do you know who I just met? …Jung Do-hyun. Jung Do-hyun is looking for you!”
“…What?”
“More precisely, not you—Composer YULE! I don’t know why, but he’s completely fixated. He called me in and demanded to know your identity. Said if I didn’t tell him, he’d cut off my livelihood!”
“….”
“I pretended I didn’t know anything. But who knows? If it’s him, he could dig through everyone at VTunes. Then he might find out you’ve been coming to my studio.”
“…I see.”
“I’ll try to keep the staff quiet on my end. But you needed to know.”
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“Forget the formalities. Anyway, I’ll tell you if I hear anything else. And stay away from this area for a while.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Good. I’m hanging up!”
—
After that, I had rushed back to class.
My head was still full of his words.
I opened my water bottle and took a sip. The cold water slid down my throat, cooling the heat rising inside me.
My thoughts began lining up one by one.
‘I’d rather Jung Do-hyun not find out who I am.’
There were many reasons.
He was the one who had backed Moon Ah-rin, letting her control the entertainment industry however she pleased in my previous life. Standing behind him would feel like repeating Moon Ah-rin’s old path.
And from my memories before regression, Jung Do-hyun was… uncomfortable. His arrogance had always been hard to deal with.
On top of that, he had connections with the school.
If I wanted to keep “student Yoon Seol” separate from “Composer YULE,” meeting someone who could bridge that gap would not help.
‘I need to be careful for a while.’
If I focus on being just Yoon Seol the student, maybe the connection to YULE will gradually blur.
I was already drowning in assignments and preparing for the upcoming scholarship recital.
‘…What if Jung Do-hyun shows up at the recital?’
But someone as busy as him attending an undergraduate-level recital in person?
That made no sense.
I nodded to myself.
‘There’s no way.’
***
-♪♩♪♬….
When the final note faded, Jung Tae-sung opened his eyes.
Jo Yoon-jae slowly lowered his hands from the piano, his heart pounding.
After a moment of thought, Jung Tae-sung spoke.
“Yoon-jae.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“The sound is clean. That’s always been your strength.”
“Thank you.”
As always, he began with praise.
But Yoon-jae pressed his lips together.
The compliment was about his piano technique—not his composition.
In other words, that was the only part worth praising.
“But… hmm.”
The professor fell silent, as if deciding where to begin.
After a while, he continued.
“You’re handling ‘Birth’ in the Birth–Life–Death trilogy, right?”
“Yes.”
“That makes your role very important. You can either immediately capture the audience’s attention—or lose it.”
Even a masterpiece struggles if the opening is weak.
If the beginning and the ending are strong, people will often remember the piece as good regardless of the middle.
“But your piece… it’s good. It really is. But it’s boring.”
Thud.
It felt like Yoon-jae’s heart dropped.
“Of course it’s important to sound pleasant. Proper harmony, steady rhythm, comfortable chords. But that’s not enough.”
“….”
“You need to rethink it. Bring a new draft next week.”
“…Yes. I understand.”
He nodded stiffly.
A ringing filled his ears.
The professor leaned back.
“Actually… since it’s a trilogy, what if ‘Birth’ and ‘Death’ were connected? Like a circular structure.”
It was a sudden idea.
“Let the question raised in ‘Birth’ reach ‘Death.’ And the question raised in ‘Death’ get answered in ‘Birth.’ Like a Möbius strip—life continues endlessly. Something like that.”
“…Are you suggesting I collaborate with Yoon Seol?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
Collaboration.
That single word pierced his chest.
To Yoon-jae, it sounded like: Your skills aren’t enough. Maybe with Yoon Seol’s help, it’ll be listenable.
“I’m not saying your piece is bad. I just think it needs something more—a stronger kick.”
So I can’t fill that gap myself?
Something surged inside him.
His throat burned.
His pride scraped painfully against his insides.
“Seol reserved practice room B-302 today. Go talk with her.”
Jung Tae-sung scribbled the room number on a piece of sheet music and handed it over.
“I think the result would be interesting if you worked together.”
With a strained smile, Yoon-jae took the paper and stood.
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“Good. Come together next week.”
“Yes.”
He bowed and grabbed the door handle.
Then the professor’s voice stopped him.
“How is your mother?”
Yoon-jae’s body stiffened.
“Your piano sound reminded me of her.”
He slowly turned around.
A thick, mask-like smile covered his face.
“…She’s doing well.”
“I see.”
He bowed again and left.
Click.
The hallway air felt colder.
Yoon-jae quickened his pace.
He needed to do something before unwanted thoughts flooded in.
So he just kept walking.
B-302.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the practice room.
Knock knock.
No answer.
Knock knock.
Still nothing.
He carefully tried the handle.
It wasn’t locked.
He opened the door slightly.
-♬♪♬♩
Music flowed out through the crack.
“….”
He froze.
The music danced freely.
It seemed to be heading toward the climax.
The right hand climbed higher and higher.
A faint dissonance settled on top—slightly unsettling, yet strangely pleasant.
His heart pounded along with it.
From far away, death was approaching.
But the narrator welcomed it with open arms.
As if that approaching death were a blessing.
At that moment, a lightning-like realization struck him.
‘She really is a genius.’
And right after that—
‘I could never compose like this. Even if I tried my whole life.’
Thud.
Without realizing it, his grip loosened.
The paper slipped from his hand.
At the same time, the music stopped.
“Who’s there?”
At the voice, Yoon-jae instinctively stepped back.
“Hello?”
Footsteps grew closer.
Unable to endure it, he turned and ran down the hallway.
“Huh?”
When Yoon Seol peeked her head out, the hallway was empty.
Only a sheet of paper with clear shoe prints on it—and a faint lingering scent of cologne—proved that someone had been there.
