Chapter 143. Invincible Youth (2)
“In fact, while preparing for this song, I had a lot of thoughts.”
Dan Haru began to share his story quietly.
“I was so sad about parting with my hyungs, and even though it was sad, preparing for the stage was overwhelming too… But then I came across this song. The song ‘Where am I’ was recommended by Seok hyung, and I think I really resonated with the lyrics.”
As Dan Haru naturally passed the credit to Gong Seok with a gesture, the broadcast screen caught the sight of Gong Seok arranging the violin strings and bow. Gong Seok, startled at the mention of his name, looked around with an embarrassed expression.
“There were so many emotions that could be conveyed just through that song alone. And with the addition of this other song left by Siwoo hyung’s father, I think the message we wanted to convey became even more complete.”
Dan Haru spoke so smoothly that it was hard to believe he was so young.
Everyone present, including the hyungs sitting behind him, listened attentively to Haru’s words.
As if fully aware of this, Dan Haru, without trembling, grasped the microphone firmly and, with sunset-like eyes gleaming, spoke to the countless audience members.
“My hyungs said they wanted to send this song to many Destinies, but I want to sing this song for myself and my hyungs.”
“For your hyungs?”
“Yes. For my team members here, the friends watching us from the waiting room, and other hyungs as well. I learned the stories in these song lyrics through my trainee friends and hyungs.”
Dan Haru’s voice was firm.
At that moment, Kang Hajin couldn’t help but reconsider his suspicion that the boy was the Chosen Regressor.
How could such a strong child be so afraid that he had to run away for so long?
As he watched Dan Haru’s back, silhouetted against the red-tinged sunset, Kang Hajin once again etched a question mark into his heart.
And at the same time, he remembered.
The obvious truth that support and comfort don’t always have to be conveyed through words alone.
‘…Thirteen.’
[System Alarm: Yes?]
‘Kim Wonho, what is he doing now?’
[System Alarm: Ah… Just a moment!]
After a brief pause, Thirteen, who had momentarily disappeared, returned not long after.
[System Alarm: Wonho-nim is in the waiting room! Thanks to the team’s comforting, it seems his emotions have calmed down a bit.]
[System Alarm: He said earlier… that for a moment, he was scared to sing.]
[System Alarm: But he seems to be much better now.]
[System Alarm: Thank goodness… (╯︵╰,)]
As he listened to Thirteen’s report on Wonho’s situation, Hajin quietly fell into thought.
Without saying a word, he carefully placed his long, beautiful fingers on the keyboard, which he was playing for the first time in a long while.
He recalled his first piano lesson in childhood, prompted by a single comment from the piano academy director who said he had hands perfect for playing the piano.
While waiting for his parents, who were both working, Hajin would sometimes hold his younger brother Hawon’s hand and listen intently to the piano performances the director played for them.
Some pieces he wanted to play so much that he asked for the sheet music, and some he wanted to learn the names of so he could play them for his parents.
But as the family’s financial situation worsened, Hajin had to quit the piano academy before he could learn the piece he wanted.
Now, though, Hajin could play that piece.
Even as an adult, whenever he had the chance to play the piano, he would practice that piece.
There are things like that.
Things you can understand without having to say them.
Things that comfort you just by hearing them.
In certain moments of life, things that play like the background music to that moment.
Things that make a gloomy day a bit better, just because of one small piece.
“Well then, please listen to our song.”
Hajin hoped that this song would be that kind of song for Wonho.
And also for himself, for Seok, for Haru, for Siwoo.
For someone who might have come to this place, leaving behind the complicated reality just to see them.
Fortunately, the current Kang Hajin was someone who could convey such comfort.
“Yes. Now, let’s meet the Invincible Youth team’s stage.”
Kang Hajin thought that it was truly…
Fortunate.
* * *
The sound of the wind could be heard.
At the edge of that moderately cool wind, Siwoo’s bangs, the color of a latte, fluttered slightly.
A small lettering on a white short-sleeved t-shirt peeked through the unbuttoned white shirt he wore.
Dressed in light jeans that weren’t too tight, Jung Siwoo sat on a tall stool, crossing his legs, and carried the light brown acoustic guitar his father had passed down to him.
Wearing silver-rimmed glasses with thin chains slightly larger than his face, Jung Siwoo looked like he could have stepped right out of a 70s or 80s youth drama.
However, due to his sophisticated looks that didn’t fit an old-fashioned image, every time Siwoo’s face was displayed on the screen, gasps of admiration could be heard from the crowd.
But only for a moment, because soon, the 70s statue-like figure started strumming the guitar with the hand holding the pick.
♩♩♬― ♪♪♩♬―
The sound of the acoustic guitar, filled with emotion, filled the evening square.
For some, it might naturally bring to mind a scene from a drama, and on top of that melody, Hajin’s piano accompaniment joined in.
As if adjusting to each other’s rhythm, Jung Siwoo and Kang Hajin made eye contact and synchronized the pace and rhythm of their performance.
Even though the in-ear monitors were playing the metronome sound and pre-recorded rhythm instruments as the backing track, they weren’t simply keeping time.
They adjusted the expression of emotions, the timing of dynamics, and matched each other’s playing in a way that didn’t interfere with one another.
♬♬♩♪♪―
Above that, the sound of Haru’s xylophone joined in once more.
Like a song of innocence, the clear and pure sound, just like Haru’s voice, came together to form a melody.
Sometimes Haru and Hajin played the same note, and sometimes they played in response to each other’s melodies.
The soft and gentle performance, resembling a sunset, captivated everyone.
Gong Seok, with his black hair neatly down, wearing a beige knit vest over a white shirt buttoned up to the top, cautiously took hold of the microphone. The first verse was his part.
“I don’t know.”
This single phrase had once made Gong Seok cry deeply one night.
So, recalling his emotions from that time, Seok bit out each word carefully.
“How are you doing these days?
When someone asks me,
my answer these days is the same.
I don’t know.”
Seok found the competition to be extremely difficult.
In fact, it wasn’t as if he had such grand dreams.
Singing was just something he was somewhat good at, and it was by chance that he received a casting offer and entered the company.
As he gradually lost confidence among the more talented and hardworking trainees, the reason he couldn’t quit was because he was scared.
If he didn’t at least do this, he felt he’d become a failure who had accomplished nothing by this age.
Just by being a trainee, he felt a little relieved, thinking that he was doing something.
“Gathering small hands,
piling up a small sandcastle,
in the face of the crashing white waves,
have we all crumbled?”
As he played the guitar, Siwoo closed his eyes gently and took over the next verse.
Seok looked at Siwoo.
Even though they were the same age, Siwoo was incredible.
Even before his debut, the fame and achievements Siwoo had already accumulated were things someone like Seok could never even dream of.
It wasn’t just about talent; Siwoo was also far more mature internally than Seok.
Seeing Siwoo made Seok feel smaller and smaller.
Even though he knew Siwoo was considerate of him, Seok didn’t know how to hide or suppress the growing sense of inferiority.
“Seok-ah.”
“Y-Yeah? Why?”
“Can you take a look at how I sing this part?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I noticed last time that your high notes sound really comfortable and clean. I want to learn that.”
“But… N-No, you sing much better than I do.”
“Everyone has their own style. If you don’t mind, could you teach me how you sing?”
However, Siwoo didn’t hesitate to ask Seok to teach him.
So Seok finally admitted it.
That this path was not his.
Once he accepted that, a new question awaited him.
“I don’t know,
where I should go,
where I’m heading to,
after the sandcastle has crumbled,
have we achieved nothing?
What do I have left now?
Where am I?”
“I was just running along the flow,
but not knowing where I would end up,
I’m wandering around.”
Hajin’s voice burst out as he stood there, wearing a sky-blue striped shirt over a white t-shirt with English letters on it. Pouring out his characteristic explosive emotions, Hajin captured in the song the helplessness and fear he had once experienced.
That emotional line from Hajin seamlessly connected to Haru.
“Where are we, now?”
Unable to find the way back,
Haru tightly grasped the microphone stand with both hands, gaz
ing into the distance as if asking the world, putting the lyrics into his mouth. The desperate question of the young boy touched the hearts of the people.
“On a night without dreams and no stars,
will we end up stopping like this?”
What happens if I get eliminated from the survival show?
Will I become a failure?
Will everything end like this?
What should I do now?
Seok’s worries, which kept him up countless nights, were not just his own.
Everyone had thought that way at least once.
All of us.
“Woo― woowoo―”
Siwoo hummed a melody that the public had never heard before.
‘Where am I’ was not only Siwoo’s concern but also a lifelong worry of his father.
And the song Siwoo was about to sing was his father’s answer to that lifelong concern.
Siwoo sang with more care than usual as he chose the notes.
It was his father’s song, one he wanted to sing more preciously than any other.
“On days when I couldn’t love myself, it was painful,
yet the beautiful flower that finally bloomed,
was always beautiful.”
Siwoo, who usually sang calmly and with poise, raised his voice for the first time, as if pouring out all his emotions.
Without caring about his voice cracking,
or the veins popping out in his neck to the point where his head throbbed,
or the strain in his hand as he played the guitar,
he sang freely, not minding anything.
“In the times when I couldn’t love myself, it hurt,
yet that small breath that embroidered happiness,
was the song of his father that he had admired so much.”