No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 32. Stand-In (1)

Choo Minji’s declaration stunned me, but the rest of the team simply sighed and turned away. Kim Bom and Junsoo, however, looked straight at me.

“Why so sudden…?” I asked cautiously.

“Which brings me to my point—would you like to buy my channel?” Minji said, as casually as if offering a cup of coffee.

“…What?”

“Ha,” Kim Bom scoffed, breaking her silence. “I had a feeling this was coming, but seriously?”

She shot a sharp glare at Minji.

“Quitting out of nowhere is already ridiculous, but selling the channel to Seojoon?”

“Yeah.”

“When you were the one who begged him to collaborate in the first place? And now this? What’s going on? Don’t tell me you’re planning to dive into music for real or something.”

“Is that so bad?” Minji replied, her tone unusually cold.

“Unnie, get a grip.”

“Bom, that’s enough…” Junsoo tried to interject, but Kim Bom was relentless.

“Didn’t watching Seojoon’s performance today make you realize anything? Music is for people like him. For you or me? What’s the point? Even if we practice until our fingers bleed, we’ll still be nothing more than stand-ins.”

“What’s wrong with being a stand-in?” Minji shot back, her voice low and firm.

Her expression was unfamiliar—serious, even icy—but it didn’t feel out of place.

“Is that so unacceptable?”

“You know what frustrates me?” Bom said, her voice rising. “I don’t know what I’m good at or what I even like, and it’s driving me crazy. But you? You found your thing! So why are you giving it up? You love doing this—anyone can see it!”

“…You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” Bom said, her tone heavy with bitterness. “Who do you think was at the center of all the drama at school because of you?”

“Enough.”

I reached over and gently placed my hand on Bom’s, which was trembling as it rested on the table.

I didn’t plan to meddle, but if this continued, their argument would spiral out of control.

“Let’s stop here.”

That was the end of the afterparty. Minji never explained why she was quitting, and I didn’t respond to her proposal.

****

The car hummed as Ducheol drove us down the four-lane road. Inside the vehicle were the same three passengers from earlier—Bom, Junsoo, and me—but the atmosphere was completely different now.

No one spoke.

After a while, the car pulled up in front of the gates to Bom’s apartment building.

Ducheol leaned out the window, gazing up in awe.

“Man… As expected of the daughter of the director of Shinhwa Hospital…”

His gaze traveled upward, following the towering structure of The Shinhwa Tower Palace.

The gleaming high-rise pierced the sky, its grandeur commanding attention. From its upper floors, residents could enjoy a sweeping view of the Han River. It was a place reserved for the elite, where ordinary people could only dream of living.

“Thanks for the ride. Take care, you two.”

Bom gave a small nod of thanks before disappearing into the apartment complex.

“Next stop, Minji’s place!” Ducheol said in a bright voice, stepping lightly on the accelerator.

The car soon veered into a narrower alleyway lined with shabby eateries and bars. The sounds of drinking, smoking, and loud voices filled the air.

It was hard to believe that only three blocks separated this area from where we had just dropped off Bom.

“Uncle! Here’s good!” Minji suddenly called out.

Ducheol stopped the car, glancing back at her with a puzzled expression.

“We still have to go up the hill, don’t we? It’ll be tough carrying stuff,” he said.

“I just need to pick up a few things.”

“Oh… Alright.”

Normally, Ducheol would have scolded her for going alone in such a sketchy area, but tonight he let it go.

“Be careful, and call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, sir!”

Minji flashed her usual bright smile and waved at Junsoo and me.

“I’ll head to the studio tomorrow. We can talk more then.”

Her tone was light, but something about it felt stiff, unnatural.

“Alright,” I replied.

Minji walked into a convenience store, and the car began moving again.

“Whew…” Ducheol exhaled deeply, glancing at me briefly before addressing Junsoo through the rearview mirror.

“Junsoo, what’s with the mood today? Did the girls fight or something?”

“Yes, that’s part of it. But mostly, it’s because Minji noona said she’s quitting YouTube. She’s even trying to sell her channel to Seojoon.”

“What? Why would she quit something she loves? And you can just sell a channel like that?”

“Yes, it’s actually quite common.”

“How much does something like that go for?”

“For Minji noona’s channel… probably around…”

Junsoo gave a figure, and Ducheol’s eyes widened in shock.

“You’re kidding! And how much is she asking for it?”

“She’s selling it dirt cheap. Not even half the market price.”

“Huh. Still, I don’t think Seojoon can handle that. Wouldn’t it be better to leave it to one of the smarter kids on the team?”

“Probably…”

As we left the restaurant earlier, the team members had swarmed me, pleading with me to take over the channel.

They said Minji was adamant about selling it only to me. She claimed that the channel’s growth had doubled because of my contributions and that no one else deserved it more.

The team members were adamant that I should take over Minji’s channel. They argued that the price was excellent, almost a steal, and I’d regret it if I didn’t buy it. They even promised to help with management if it became too much for me. Though they were just college students, they were highly motivated since their livelihoods depended on the channel.

Hearing their reasoning, I could tell Minji’s intentions were good. But I couldn’t shake a subtle sense of disappointment, reminiscent of watching younger siblings decide to abandon their dreams and leave behind a lifestyle we had built together.

“Let me think about it,” I finally said.

Ducheol, who was driving, opened the glove box, pulled out a CD, and slid it into the car’s audio system. The familiar tunes of “Classical Masterpieces” began to play, with a piece by Brahms filling the air.

“……”

“…Ah.”

Our eyes met, and Ducheol immediately looked sheepish. We had fallen into our usual pattern, forgetting that Junsoo was sitting in the back seat. When I glanced at him, I saw him staring out the window, worry written all over his face. He seemed oblivious to our exchange, lost in his own thoughts.

Before long, we arrived at the Baekjung Studio. Once Junsoo headed upstairs, Ducheol and I stepped out onto the terrace.

As if on cue, snowflakes began to drift gently from the sky.

Tsssss—

Ducheol popped open a can of beer and handed it to me.

“Here you go, boss. Care for a drink?”

“I’m still growing.”

“…At your height, boss, I think you’re done,” he replied with a smirk.

“You never know.”

He nodded, set the beer down, and handed me a mug instead. A fragrant aroma wafted up as I took it.

“I figured you’d say that, so I brewed some chamomile tea. It’s great before bed.”

“Thanks.”

I sipped the tea slowly, gazing at the night sky. The city lights from streetlamps illuminated the falling snow, creating a tranquil, dreamlike scene.

“How’s it been with Junsoo? Any issues?” I asked.

“No, boss. He’s a great kid.”

“Good. Still, he’s a bit too soft. Make sure he gets some exercise.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Tell me about what you found today.”

“Yes, boss. I met with someone from the pawnshop we discussed earlier, but they said they hadn’t received any safes as large as the one you described. I brought photos, just in case.”

Ducheol handed me several photographs, all showing safes of various sizes. Unfortunately, none of them matched mine.

“Hmm…”

“Do you think Changsik might’ve stashed it at his place?”

“No. He wouldn’t have kept it anywhere nearby, nor would he have tried to open it. He knows better.”

The safe in question was a custom piece, crafted by a Swiss artisan. Any tampering would destroy its contents, reducing everything inside to ash. It could only be opened with a password known exclusively to me or by bringing in the original artisan’s technicians—neither of which was an option.

“Changsik is too cunning to risk losing what’s inside,” I added.

“Got it. I’ll contact other pawnshops discreetly, just in case.”

“No rush. Take your time and make sure no one finds out you’re looking into it.”

“Yes, boss.”

“You can head in and rest now. I’ll finish my tea and follow shortly.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just next door. I have some things to think about.”

Ducheol hesitated for a moment before bowing lightly.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Rest well.”

As he began walking away, he stopped, turned, and looked at me.

“Boss?”

“What now?”

“Mind if I sit down again?”

I sighed, noting the serious expression on his face, and nodded.

He sat back down, took a long swig of his beer, and began to speak.

“When I first quit sports and started this life…”

“Yeah?”

“It was tough. Especially when we were all crammed into that tiny two-room place. Man…”

He chuckled softly and scratched his bald head, lost in the memory.

I raised an eyebrow. Why was he bringing this up now? Ducheol wasn’t one to get drunk off a single can, so it wasn’t the alcohol talking. Perhaps he just wanted to reminisce.

“True. Back then, you barely had space to stretch out that big body of yours,” I said, playing along.

“Exactly! Remember the time I stretched my legs in my sleep and Changsik beat me up for it?”

“As if that only happened once.”

“I’m talking about the time you dragged me out in the middle of the night.”

“Ah, the night you were crying in the bathroom?”

“That’s the one. You even bought me drinks and got me a motel room. I still remember what you told me that night.”

Ducheol paused, taking another sip of his beer before continuing.

“‘Just wait a little longer. I didn’t bring you here to make you suffer.’”

“Ha.”

“And not long after, as soon as you got your first business up and running, you moved us into a better place. Even got us proper beds.”

“Right. I practically broke my back paying off my credit card for that.”

Youth—those moments we like to romanticize—were, in hindsight, full of regrets and embarrassments.

“Why the sudden stroll down memory lane?” I asked.

“Do you remember when you once asked me why I stayed under you instead of taking up a leadership position?” Ducheol said, his voice steady. “I dodged the question back then, but I’ll tell you now: I admired how much you cared for your people. I wanted to be one of them for life.”

“You know I hate sappy stuff, right? Just tell me what you’re getting at.”

Ducheol paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on me.

“It’s about Choo Minji.”

“Minji? What about her?”

“I think the way you look at her is similar to how you looked at me when I was a rookie.”

“That’s nonsense. She’s just a regular student.”

“Maybe so, but I think you already see her as one of your people. You mentioned before that she helped you adjust to this new phase of life…”

He wasn’t wrong.

Through her YouTube channel, I’d met a professor who guided me toward a better future, giving me a boost I hadn’t anticipated.

When I was drowning in settlement debts, she’d helped me find a way forward.

Even today, she showed me a new kind of joy through our outdoor performance—so much so that I felt a growing desire to share my music with a wider audience.

Ducheol continued, “From the moment I met her, I thought, ‘This kid could be like a little sibling to me.’ That’s why I’ve tried to help her out, even lending her my car.”

“That’s true.”

“Which brings me to this,” he said, his tone turning serious as he furrowed his brows. “I think I know why she’s quitting YouTube.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I saw something the other day. Would you mind coming with me to check it out?”

***

The place Ducheol brought me to was a small rehabilitation hospital.

The three-story building looked old, with lights on only the first floor.

Ducheol explained that a few days ago, while driving past this place, he had spotted Minji crying. He hadn’t told me earlier, knowing I disliked gossip, but felt this was the right time to bring it up.

Who could be hospitalized here?

Now that I thought about it, I’d spent plenty of time with Minji but knew almost nothing about her family.

“Well, let’s find out,” I said, heading toward the entrance.

The lobby, though old, was surprisingly spacious. The furniture and interior showed their age, but everything was spotless. Classical music played softly in the background, creating a calm and solemn atmosphere.

“Can I help you?” a nurse at the reception desk asked.

I paused, scanning my surroundings before meeting her eyes. She gasped.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Baekjung, right?”

“Uh… yes. How do you know me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Minji brags about you all the time!”

Looks like I was in the right place.

“Is Minji here right now?”

“She is. She went upstairs a little while ago.”

“What room is she in?”

“Hmm, I’m not really supposed to say… but since you’re Baekjung and close with Minji, I’ll make an exception.”

What a lax hospital, I thought as she gave me the room number.

Walking down the hallway, I passed several doors. The air was eerily still, with no sounds except faint shuffling from behind some doors. Despite the early hour, the place was steeped in silence.

The dim corridor carried an odd mix of unease and sanctity.

At the far end of the hallway, a single room was lit brightly, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the floor.

Voices drifted out—a lively chatter that broke the heavy silence.

“Really? That good?!”
“Yes, absolutely! You should check out my channel!”
“Oh, Minji, we’re too old for that kind of thing!”
“Never mind that. Just look at his face. He’s so handsome!”
“Gorgeous. Seeing him in person would make you faint.”

Minji’s voice confirmed this was the right room.

Peering through the slightly open door, I saw four beds. One was empty, two were occupied by women who looked to be in their sixties, and one by an elderly man with white hair.

In the middle of them stood Minji, her cheeks flushed red as she animatedly gestured while talking.

“I’ll bring him by sometime soon!”
“Really?”
“So we finally get to meet your boyfriend?”

Knock, knock.

The chatter showed no signs of stopping, so I rapped lightly on the door.

“Excuse me.”