No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Chapter 36: Stand-in (5)

“Minji, are you alright?”

Ducheol glanced toward the backseat as he asked, concern in his voice.

Choo Minji swallowed her calming pill and nodded. Beside her, her contrabass lay secured across the reclined seat.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous….”

Before long, the front gate of Kyungui University, where Minji was to take her exam, came into view.

The gate, resembling a castle wall, led to a winding road that eventually revealed the music school—a tall, old, and pointed structure. Despite its weathered appearance, it was renowned as one of the top music schools in Korea, boasting a rich history.

Minji had once passionately explained how prestigious the school was, but Seojoon had only half-listened, so he couldn’t recall much of the details.

“Oh, there it is,” he said, pointing to a sign that indicated the exam location.

“Let me off here.”

“Alright. I’ll stick around nearby.”

“Okay.”

As Minji stepped out of the car, her face was still pale, and her trembling hands made it clear she was struggling with nerves. Since she was too shaky to carry her contrabass, I took it for her.

In front of the music school building, a female student who appeared to be an exam assistant stood absentmindedly. She was repeatedly directing examinees with a lifeless “This way, please,” until her gaze fell on Seojoon.

“Oh?”

“Excuse me,” 

“Ah, y-yes…”

Behind him, he overheard her muttering, “He looks familiar….”

Minji had told him this was his level of recognition these days—recognizable only to those deeply involved in music, and even then, only if they were sharp. That was why he’d chosen the stage name “Baekjung.” It was meant to leave a stronger impression.

“You… need to work harder,” Minji muttered, her face still ghostly pale.

“Work harder at what? I’m not trying to be a celebrity.”

The room they arrived at was labeled “Waiting Room.” Behind the closed doors, the muffled sounds of various instruments being tuned and practiced could be heard.

As Seojoon reached for the doorknob, Minji grabbed his sleeve tightly.

“Wait…”

“What’s wrong?”

“If I go in now, I might actually throw up… I feel like something’s stuck in my stomach….”

“Are you sure you can take the exam?”

“Of course…”

“Why are you so different from how you are in front of a camera?”

“Because there’s no camera here….”

“Hmm, fair point.”

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom.”

“Alright.”

“Can you tune the bass for me? I’ll warm up when I get back.”

“Got it.”

As Minji walked off, I opened the door.

[!!!!]

The muffled noise exploded into a cacophony as soon as the door opened, almost overwhelming his ears despite being somewhat prepared for it. He frowned instinctively.

The room was filled with nearly thirty students, most practicing cello or contrabass near the walls. At the center of the spacious room, rows of chairs were arranged, occupied mostly by older accompanists. Their relaxed expressions betrayed no sign of stress, likely because this was not their exam to take.

The students, preoccupied with their instruments, paid little attention to Seojoon except for a few near the door who whispered among themselves before quickly avoiding his gaze.

He picked up a chair and moved to a quiet corner, away from the crowd. The only other person there was a male student lying on an open contrabass case, his face hidden under a hoodie as he napped.

Perhaps because of the sleeping student, the area was mostly deserted.

“Hm…”

With nothing to do, he sat silently, glancing around.

There were six contrabasses in the room. Including Minji’s, that made seven.

Since the school was accepting two new contrabass students, the competition ratio was roughly 3.5:1—not bad compared to the cello, which had far more applicants.

As he scanned the room, he noticed distinct groups among the accompanists. Some greeted each other warmly, chatting with familiarity, while others kept to themselves in solitary corners.

Focusing on a trio of accompanists seated in one such corner, Seojoon overheard snippets of their conversation.

“That one’s a student of Professor Yoon, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, and so is the other one.”

“Shh… Don’t talk about that here. Private lessons with professors are illegal, you know. Professor Yoon is on today’s judging panel, too.”

“Oh, please. Is there anyone who gets into college without taking lessons from their major professors? Everyone knows, and everyone hushes it up.”

“Still, it’s technically illegal….”

“And yet here we are. Besides, no one here can hear us.”

The trio’s conversation shifted to gossip about who studied under whom, who graduated from which arts high school, and who was from out of town.

It was a firsthand glimpse into the small, insular world of classical music.

“Seojoon?”

A voice interrupted his thoughts. Turning around, he saw a woman holding a coffee cup, her eyes wide with surprise.

It was Yoo Ahra, one of Professor Han’s students.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, her tone cheerful.

“Yeah, what a surprise!” Seojoon replied with a grin as she lightly patted his shoulder and sat beside him.

“Don’t tell me you’re here as an accompanist?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow… who roped you into that?”

“Choo Minji.”

“Wow, so loyal~ Where’s Minji?” Yoo Ahra asked, glancing around.

“She went to the bathroom. I think she’s having some trouble after taking a few too many calming pills,” Seojoon replied.

“Oh my… I didn’t think Minji would get nervous.”

“Me neither. Are you here as an accompanist too?”

“Yes, I’m with him.”

Yoo Ahra pointed to the sleeping male student sprawled across an open bass case on the floor.

“He said he drank too much last night.”

“Drinking before an exam…?”

“Oh, you don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Yoo Ahra leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“He’s been known as a prodigy bassist since he was a kid, but now people call him a lazy genius. Still, he’s incredibly talented, and his family is loaded. His playing is decent. We both took the Korean National University of Arts entrance exam a few days ago, and he’s probably going to get in. He said this exam is just a backup plan.”

“Ah….” Seojoon responded, uninterested but polite.

****

In a corner of the waiting room, a female student approached another bassist who was practicing. Both wore slippers with the same emblem from an arts high school.

“Hey, what’s he doing here?” she asked, pointing to the sleeping student.

“Who?”

She gestured at the slumbering bassist.

“Oh, he took the Korean National University exam and is just here as a formality. Apparently, his uncle is the dean of this school.”

“Whoa, connections?”

“Pfft. He’s going to the national university anyway, so who cares?”

The two laughed, exchanging smirks as if sharing an inside joke.

“I’d like to see that genius in action, but he’s just sleeping there. Anyway, aside from him, the bass applicants this year seem pretty weak.”

“Yeah, no one from Iwon or Shinhwa schools showed up.”

“So, it’s just the two of us, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“Alright then, big sis is going to crush it.”

As the two chuckled and surveyed the room, the front door opened.

A tall, pale man stepped inside, carrying a contrabass on his back. His strikingly good looks and perfect proportions made him seem out of place among the students. His casually tousled hair looked as though a stylist had meticulously arranged it, and the instrument on his back looked more like a fashion statement than an exam tool. His slightly furrowed brows added a brooding charm.

“Whoa… he’s so cool.”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Is he even a bassist?”

“I’ve never seen him before. Someone that striking would’ve been noticed by now.”

“Maybe he’s from the countryside? Still, he looks familiar somehow.”

“You think so? I feel the same… like, uh…”

One of the students paused, trying to recall.

“He looks like Song Eungang.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!”

But they failed to connect the dots to “Baekjung,” despite the rising popularity of ChooTube, which had nearly 100,000 subscribers. While the channel was making waves in the classical music community, Seojoon’s face wasn’t yet well-known enough to spark immediate recognition. Adding to the confusion was the fact that he was carrying Minji’s contrabass instead of a piano.

“Wait, does he know Yoo Ahra?”

“Who’s Yoo Ahra?”

“She was one of the five young pianists selected by the Shinhwa Foundation last year.”

“I don’t know about that, but she’s pretty.”

“You’re dead meat.”

“Heh.”

“Anyway, the two of them together really look like a power couple… Do you think he’s her accompanist?”

Their conversation shifted, tinged with a subtle sense of envy.

“Hey, are you going to rehearse with your accompanist before going in?”

“Not here, I’m not. How could I?”

The two glanced toward the back of the room, where a student and accompanist were awkwardly trying to rehearse amid the constant scrutiny of the other applicants.

“Can’t believe they didn’t give us a separate practice room.”

“They’re basically telling us to size each other up right here.”

“Not me. I already practiced before coming.”

“Same. Look at that—he’s totally off-pitch.”

****

“Wait, seriously?” Yoo Ahra’s eyes widened in astonishment as she flipped through the sheet music Seojoon handed her.

“You memorized the accompaniment? And you practiced contrabass to understand it better?”

“That’s right. To be a good accompanist, you need to understand the soloist’s instrument and their intentions. So, I practiced the contrabass, memorized the piece, and studied Minji’s interpretation of it. Accompaniment comes last—it’s about fully supporting the soloist’s vision.”

“Wow… I thought the rumors about you mastering instruments easily were exaggerated, but I guess not.” Yoo Ahra shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re a real genius.”

“I picked it up while working with Minji in the orchestra at school.”

“Orchestra practice doesn’t even compare to a concerto, though.”

“They seemed similar to me. Music is music, after all.”

Yoo Ahra narrowed her eyes, her expression turning sly.

“Seojoon, do people ever tell you you’re insufferable?”

“No.”

“That’s surprising. You were insufferable just now.”

“Ha ha.”

She laughed brightly, waving off her words as a joke.

“By the way, where’s Minji? I wanted to catch up since it’s been a while,” Yoo Ahra said, a hint of sadness in her expression. She seemed to know about Minji’s decision to quit broadcasting.

Buzz.

At that moment, Seojoon’s phone vibrated with a message from Minji.

“She says she’s going to nap in the car for a bit.”

“Goodness… When’s her turn?”

“Last.”

“Well, that makes sense. Bass, plus the name Choo? That’s at least a two-hour wait.”

“Two hours?”

Seojoon had heard bass players had to wait longer, but this was more than he expected.

“Let’s chat until Minji gets here. My player’s out of commission anyway,” Yoo Ahra said, gesturing to the sleeping student she was accompanying.

The conversation naturally shifted to topics like Professor Han and the Korean National University of Arts.

“Next year, you’ll be my junior, right? Can I speak casually then?”

“Of course.”

Time passed, but the cellists were still halfway through their turns. Many who had been diligently practicing earlier were now either studying their scores or resting.

“Seojoon,” Yoo Ahra suddenly said.

“Yes?”

“Since we’re bored, how about we play together? I noticed the piano’s been free for a while.”

“With me?”

“Yes. I’ll accompany while you play bass. I need to warm up my hands, but playing piano alone feels awkward.”

Seojoon glanced toward the back of the room. The piano stood unattended, and there was no one nearby.

“Hm…”

He hesitated. Would it bother others? Or, since he wasn’t officially a bass major, maybe it didn’t matter.

The decision didn’t take long.

It was Yoo Ahra’s skill that intrigued him. He was curious about the accompaniment of a pianist as talented as her. And the idea of playing a piece himself while someone else accompanied him? It was too valuable a learning experience to pass up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

****

“Hey, looks like they’re about to play together,” one of the bass students whispered, pointing to the back of the room.

“Wow, in this atmosphere? Bold move.”

“Good. This’ll be something to watch.”

It wasn’t just the two of them; several students turned their attention to Seojoon and Yoo Ahra as they approached the piano.

Yoo Ahra sat down, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously. Glancing at Seojoon, she bit her lower lip lightly.

“Playing piano in front of a genius feels awkward,” she said.

“Not at all.”

Seojoon could feel the weight of the many eyes on him. But having performed with chamber ensembles on grand stages before, this level of attention didn’t faze him.

“Shall we begin?” Yoo Ahra asked.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

****

“Wow, they’re good,” a female bassist remarked.

“Yeah, but something feels off,” another said.

“The musicality is there, but it’s awkward. You can tell they started their instrument late. Kids like that always have this kind of vibe.”

“Talented but late starters, huh? They’re good, but not quite at this level?”

“Exactly. Still… the look on your face says you’re relieved.”

“Well, if he were good at both looks and his instrument, that’d be unfair.”

“Come on, it’s a blind test. Looks don’t matter here.”

“True.”

The first bassist nodded before adding another observation.

“Is it just me, or do they sound ridiculously in sync?”

“You’re right. It’s like one person playing instead of two.”

“That’s Yoo Ahra’s skill, isn’t it?”

****

For Yoo Ahra, accompaniment had always been just a way to earn money—a side gig perfect for piano students.

But hearing Seojoon’s approach to accompaniment earlier had surprised her. The effort he put into studying the soloist’s instrument and style seemed excessive, especially for someone who wasn’t even a professional accompanist.

Still, playing with him had shown her the difference.

“Wow… So this is what it feels like when the soloist and accompanist completely understand each other. It didn’t feel like accompaniment—it felt like a duet.”

“I’m still a novice on the bass. I only practiced this piece for two days.”

“Seojoon, please don’t say things like that in public. If major students hear you, they’ll curse you out.”

“Ha ha.”

“Honestly, this has been humbling. I’ve learned so much today. Thank you.”

“Not at all.”

****

Finally, it was time for the bass players to go in. Yoo Ahra, being the first on the list, got ready to leave the waiting room.

“I’m heading in. Tell Minji I said good luck.”

“Will do.”

With a groan, Yoo Ahra dragged the hungover student along as she left.

One by one, the others followed suit, leaving for their turns and not returning.

****

Before long, Seojoon found himself alone in the waiting room.

“…Damn it.”

Minji still hadn’t shown up.