* * *
Bbam babam bbam babam barabarabam....
The owner of the live café , now sixty-three years old and unusually awake early today, picked up his phone before the alarm could even repeat. On the screen, the words “D-day” were displayed.
“Mm, good.”
As always, he headed to the kitchen and picked up the coffee grinder. Starting the day with the rich aroma of beans and neat, practiced movents was part of his routine.
Pour—
As he poured the coffee, its deep, nutty fragrance spread throughout the house. With a satisfied expression, he savored a sip, then lifted his phone and took a picture.
Click.
Input: Coffee and music have sothing in common. They both make even my heart fragrant.... A mont of leisure with a cup of coffee and the beauty of a single line of song—our live café will be taking a break for today (hands-pressed-together emoticon)
And he posted the notice on Yousta.
“Honey, you’re already up?”
“Yeah. Drink your coffee and hurry up and wash. We need to get ready to go out.”
“What’s today? I’m going to lunch with my friends.”
“...What? What do you an, what day is it?”
It was always like this. Even if they were a couple eight years apart, this kind of absentmindedness—especially today—was completely unbearable.
He planted both hands on his hips and shouted.
“I told you so many tis!”
“Hey. Why are you yelling?”
Just because she was seventy-one, did that make her right? The owner of the live café pressed his lips into a straight line.
“Alright, alright. So what day is it?”
“It’s the day they said they’d show a live band performance at the Han River!”
“Ahh. That.”
He had been diligently watching every single vlog.
He even left helpful comnts on every episode without fail, so he really wanted to see how far they had improved.
“Sigh.... Honestly, I’m going to see all sorts of things because of you.”
His wife gulped down her coffee and pushed her chair back as she stood up. He narrowed his eyes into triangles and barked.
“Where are you going!”
“Your noona is going to wash up.”
As she looked at him still standing there with both hands on his hips, she grumbled.
“If noona cancels her plans today, that’s enough, right? Geez.”
“You never go out in a good mood. Why are you sighing?!”
Watching her storm off to wash up, he grumbled under his breath before finishing the rest of his coffee. The bitter yet fragrant taste lingered pleasantly in his mouth.
“Noona has no romance. None at all.”
He recalled the ti when the two of them first t.
These days, you could just turn on your phone and music would play anywhere—but back then, it wasn’t like that. It was an era where you had to endure inconvenience to enjoy romance.
For his first confession, he had clumsily sung a serenade using lyrics he had painstakingly morized.
It was a song by so foreign singer his wife liked, and he couldn’t even count how many tis he had morized and remorized those difficult English lyrics.
Whenever the university song festival aired, the two of them would sit in front of the TV, eyes fixed on the screen. They would even make serious bets on who would win.
The song the team had practiced this ti was also the one released in the year their first child was born.
From LP to cassette, from cassette to CD, from CD to MP3 files—music had changed its form with the tis, yet remained in his life.
“So, well... the drums anchor it with a heavy base, the guitar may not have flashy technique but it grabs you with high vocal notes, and above all, if soone who’s played for a long ti throws in a few keyboard tricks, that alone will carry it past average thanks to nostalgia....”
As he recalled the team’s practice, sothing stirred warmly in his chest.
Even if they made mistakes today, he felt like he could applaud them simply for trying.
“Hey, you said we’re going out! Aren’t you getting ready?!”
His wife, already washed up, shouted again.
Just because noona was ready, was that it? He gripped the coffee cup tightly and shouted back.
“I need to put on wax!”
* * *
Aetami took a half-day off in the afternoon and headed to Yeouido.
A clear weekday. Just imagining how the three of them would shine while performing against the backdrop of the blue river made the corners of her lips rise.
“Ah, the weather is so nice—.”
Walking toward Yeouido Hangang Park, Aetami murmured in a good mood. White clouds floated above like fluffy cotton candy.
People in suits hurried sowhere for lunch, while those dressed casually rode bicycles, ringing their bells cheerfully.
Dog owners walking their pets held coffee in one hand, and children ran around laughing brightly.
It was the perfect stage to present for the first ti.
“Huh...?”
As Aetami approached the riverside stage, she paused in slight confusion.
“What?”
There were far more people gathered than she expected. In fact, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that most won in their twenties and thirties nearby had gathered here.
So people had brought mirrorless caras as if filming vlogs, while others held their phones horizontally, recording video.
On one side were reporters, on the other were viewers of the vlog.
“What is this? Sothing’s happening?”
“Should we stay here for a bit? We’ve got so ti anyway.”
Even passersby were gradually gathering. The busy staff setting up the stage seed to draw attention naturally.
“Excuse . What’s happening here today?”
Soone near Aetami asked. She smiled and opened her mouth to answer. Just then—
“You know Yeon Huijae, right? That big W-run Huijae. Huijae and her friends are performing here today.”
Right next to Aetami, an elderly woman in a fluttery floral dress smiled as she answered.
“Han Yeoreum! Choo Gaeul! So Dami!”
An elderly man with slicked-back hair, wearing aviator sunglasses and a rider jacket, shouted in a dignified voice. Surprisingly, he knew their nas exactly.
“Yes, yes. Those girls. Mm.”
“Ahh. Thank you.”
The person who asked nodded, then found a spot nearby and sat down.
The dignified grandfather and lovely grandmother even laid out the cushions they had «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» brought in advance, securing a good view.
More and more people filled the steps.
Ziiing—
That was when the sound of an electric guitar rang out.
* * *
“Ah, I’m so nervous I could die.”
Choo Gaeul clasped both hands together like she was praying. Her face had been pale for a while now.
Beside her, So Dami gently rubbed her back with her small hand.
“It’s okay. Even if you ss up, most people won’t notice anyway. That’s how live performances are!”
Dami, who had the most performance experience, looked relatively calm. The three of us were inside a tent set up as a temporary waiting room near the stage.
Because there was no soundproofing at all, the noise outside ca through clearly.
Among the murmuring voices, the louder ones reached us as if they were right beside us.
“Didn’t Han Yeoreum appear on recently?”
“Huijae? Han Yeoreum?”
“But Han Yeoreum really can sing well.”
The na that ca up the most was, of course, mine.
Out of the three of us, I was the most familiar to the public, so it couldn’t be helped.
I picked up a bottle of water. As I let the cold liquid flow into my dry mouth, it felt like my senses were gradually returning.
The ti we had spent practicing for this day ca to mind. We can do well, right? I almost asked, but swallowed the words down.
Because with the amount we had practiced, we had no choice but to do well.
The tent flap opened briefly, and cold air from outside flowed in.
“Why are you all so nervous?”
It was the team that had taken second place in the university song festival, returning after finishing tuning on stage. Excitent and tension coexisted on their faces.
“Hey, why are you pretending you’re not nervous?”
“I’m nervous as hell too. Feels like there are more people here than when we did the festival.”
The keyboard and drum coach teased the guitar coach. The drumstick lightly tapped Choo Gaeul’s pale forehead.
“In the na of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.... I believe you’ll do well today....”
The coach tapped her forehead and shoulders with the drumstick. From his wrist ca the sharp scent of pain relief patches.
It was the sa scent that had started coming from Choo Gaeul recently as well, though she used to always sll nice.
That sharp, minty sll.
“Got it?”
The drum coach smiled brightly. Choo Gaeul slowly raised her head and t his eyes.
“Hello, everyone? Yes, I’ll be your MC for today....”
From outside, the MC’s voice through the microphone could be heard. The showcase was beginning.
“When we think of youth, we can’t leave out music. So, to help everyone here receive a certificate of youth, we’ve prepared a special mont. We’ll be giving you a ti machine ticket.”
The piano coach raised a fist and extended it to the center.
“Shall we do that thing we used to do?”
“Wow. It finally feels real.”
“Okay. Co on.”
The remaining two grabbed each other’s wrists. The three of them looked at us as if asking what we were doing.
“What are you doing? Grab on!”
Without a word, we held each other’s wrists. Our palms were slightly slippery with sweat. Six hands connected, each gripping the person next to them.
“When I say ‘Youth Disqualified,’ we shout it together.”
Beyond the tent, the crowd waiting for us responded to the MC. Laughter could be heard.
I had a feeling it would go well. Because all of us had worked so hard.
“Youth Disqualified!”
We lowered our hands.
“Fighting!”
We raised them high, each of us making our own silent vow.
Don’t make mistakes, don’t regret it, just do what we practiced, do well, treat it like it’s the last ti, and—
“Alright, I’m going first.”
Let’s show them.
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