Chapter 39 : Caught in the Net

Chapter 39: Caught in the Net

‘It should be fine to just show up, right?’

I sat tucked into the corner of the very back seat of the bus, fiddling with my smartphone.

Right now, I was already on a bus bound for Hongdae…

But I was worried. What should I say? What if I got turned away at the door?

After running through a dozen excuses in my head, I decided to keep it simple.

‘What’s wrong with going to a restaurant?’

It’s not like I was barging into someone’s house. It was a proper business establishment.

No matter when someone visits, there’s nothing strange about it, right?

And conveniently, I was hungry.

That tonkatsu was really good. And the ketchup spaghetti—ah, that was the real treat. My mouth was already watering.

After glancing out the window for a moment, I pulled my phone back out.

Putting on my AirPods, I opened a music community site.

I was curious what the public thought about Cheongseong’s vocalist, Moon Jungbae. If he even got mentioned at all, I’d consider it lucky.

Huh?

Even though it had been nearly 30 years since his retirement—

Mr. Moon Jungbae still got pulled into online discussions fairly often.

Especially now, with audition programs dominating the airwaves and those “guess the masked singer” shows running rampant, it happened even more.

↳ Who’s that?

↳↳ Cheongseong’s vocalist.

↳ From when exactly?

↳ Lol, so if someone sings rock, they’re all Moon Jungbae now?

↳ Could be possible. Bet his voice is still insane.

No, he was definitely an idol vocalist.

↳ Stop romanticizing the past.

↳↳ Go watch the old videos. If you’re badmouthing Cheongseong’s vocalist, you’re just proving you know nothing about music.

↳ It was a killer band though.

↳ “For Us.” That song’s still a staple opening at university festivals.

↳↳ Didn’t it win the Riverside Song Festival?

Ah, yes.

Even if you don’t know Cheongseong, not knowing “For Us” would be criminal.

↳ Yeah, I wonder how his voice has changed.

↳ He switched careers to become a tonkatsu warrior.

↳↳ ???? What tonkatsu? I’m talking about the vocalist from Cheongseong, not a chef.

↳ Better to live comfortably in later years with the money he earned.

↳↳ He probably didn’t make that much though.

↳ True. Back in the day, agencies sucked their artists dry.

↳ (Link) The bassist almost made an extreme choice because of depression.

Wow, that’s awful.

But wait—Mr. Moon Jungbae owns a building now, so…?

While I was deep into my “researching public perception of Cheongseong’s vocalist Moon Jungbae,” the bus arrived at my stop.

Seeing how often he still came up, he clearly wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

I dashed straight into the alley with the backstage entrance.

This was only my second visit, but for some reason it felt as familiar as a regular neighborhood diner.

Ahem. Play it cool. Act natural.

I adjusted my clothes and opened the door.

“Welcome—oh?”

Moon Jungbae, standing at the counter, looked at me like he’d just seen a ghost.

First things first—greet him.

“Hello, senior!”

I greeted him extra cheerfully on purpose.

A 90-degree bow, of course!

“We meet again. Come on in.”

Moon Jungbae replied, studying my face intently.

Then his lips twitched slightly before he spoke.

“Kim Minsoo’s crew… No, should’ve guessed you were one of Kim Minsoo’s juniors, coming around in turns…”

I didn’t need to hear the rest to get the gist.

Taking turns pestering him? Dropping by constantly? Clinging on and refusing to let go? He could think whatever he wanted.

That wasn’t why I came here.

If it had been some petty ploy like that, I wouldn’t have shown up at all.

“I kept thinking about it. You even showed up in my dreams.”

“…What did?”

He gave me that same subtly expectant look as last time.

But I wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted.

“The tonkatsu!”

“…Huh?”

That’s my strategy.

I had absolutely no intention of being the first to bring up music.

If you brought it up first? You lost.

Put another way, it was an unspoken rule that the one who couldn’t wait would speak first.

You want to hold on to someone, you want to ask them to sing your song.

But this feeling—this wasn’t impatience.

How should I put it… I just wanted to let things flow as they would.

Songs were bound to find their rightful owner eventually.

And if possible, I wanted to be the one holding the reins.

Leaving Moon Jungbae’s eager expression behind, I sat at the table closest to the counter and said,

“One tonkatsu set, please! Oh, and I’ll add a Napolitan spaghetti too. If I order two meals, that means I get two desserts, right?!”

As cheerfully as possible.

Fwoosh—

The flames roared up, imparting a smoky aroma to the spaghetti.

‘…Is this right?’

Even as he fried the tonkatsu and stir-fried the Napolitan spaghetti, he couldn’t shake off the strange aura surrounding him.

It was like he had become the spaghetti caught in the flames.

And of course, those flames… were Taeyoon.

‘Did he really come just to eat? He’s ordering for two all by himself.’

Moon Jungbae finished cooking and plating the dishes.

He even added two large fried shrimp as a complimentary service.

Carrying the plates with practiced ease, he approached Taeyoon’s table.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“I didn’t order fried shrimp.”

“Return-visit service?”

“Want me to leave a review?”

“Then I’ll throw in a Coke.”

“Oh, jackpot.”

…Maybe he did really come just to eat.

The moment the plates hit the table—

Taeyoon cleared them at lightning speed.

Sure, he was young enough to chew through iron, but still… at this rate, was he starving for days?

Moon Jungbae walked back to the kitchen, the thought nagging at him.

The more he thought about it, the stranger it felt.

‘What the… why do I feel disappointed?’

When he’d first seen Taeyoon’s face,

He’d honestly been glad. Surely he’d start pestering him to sing a song.

Surely he’d be impatient, begging to be given another chance.

It had even made him smile—‘Guess I’m not forgotten yet…’

Plenty of industry folks had come back to see him again.

The answer was always the same—no. He’d expressed his apology with the fried shrimp.

But today felt different.

Without even realizing it, he’d fried two shrimp.

His rule was to only give one for free.

‘Why did I do that?’

Probably just because he knew the kid ate well.

He scooped ice from the ice maker and grabbed a Coke.

Regular? Zero? These days young folks all drank Zero. He still didn’t get why people drank that thing wearing Coke’s mask.

Moon Jungbae set down the Coke Zero and a cup of ice.

“Take your time eating.”

With his mouth stuffed full of spaghetti, Taeyoon mumbled,

“Mmm? I haven’t written my review yet.”

“You will. You’re eating this well.”

The plate was already almost empty.

They say you shouldn’t watch other people eat.

So why did he keep wanting to watch this one?

The Coke was just an excuse.

He wanted to examine this unpredictable kid closely.

After all, staring at a customer eating out of the blue would be weird.

“Thanks for the Coke. I got a nice picture too. Oh?”

Taeyoon’s hand froze as he was about to pour the Coke.

After a moment’s hesitation, he looked up at Moon Jungbae carefully.

“Um… Senior.”

“Yes? Why? Is there a problem?”

“Uh… sorry. I know it’s really rude to say this when I’m getting free service. But… do you maybe have any real Coke?”

“There’s fake Coke?”

“It’s Zero.”

“Huh?”

Even in this situation, this kid was seriously talking about real Coke and fake Coke?

“Coke Zero is just black water wearing Coke’s shell. How should I put it… a heresy?”

“Pffft, hahahaha. I like that.”

“…Sorry?”

“You really know your food. I’ll swap it for you right away.”

“Since you’re giving me a Coke, you don’t have to give me dessert.”

Taeyoon drank his Coke, and Moon Jungbae watched him in the awkward silence.

Moon Jungbae rubbed his thumb against his lips.

He was getting anxious. It was about time to bring it up.

Come on, just get to the point already!

If he did, Jungbae could pretend not to care while showering him with praise.

And yet, Taeyoon wiped his mouth with a tissue, tidied his utensils, and stood up.

“…Huh?”

Was he… really leaving?

For real?

While Jungbae hesitated at this unexpected turn, Taeyoon naturally headed for the counter.

“Thanks for the meal. Can I get the check?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“You said next time we meet I could speak casually, remember?”

“…Did I?”

Even as he took the card and processed the payment,

Even as the receipt printed out,

Moon Jungbae was dizzy from the strangeness of the situation.

Now he’ll say it. Now’s the time. This is the last chance!

But despite having plenty of chances to bring up music,

Taeyoon had done nothing but praise the food.

“Everything was delicious again today. The Napolitan spaghetti was really good. I’ll leave a great review.”

Taeyoon bowed and turned his back, about to leave the counter.

Moon Jungbae’s heart raced.

“Wait.”

Without thinking, he called out urgently.

If he had realized at that moment that the corner of Taeyoon’s mouth had curled upward—

Would Moon Jungbae still be wearing the same expression he had now?

Taeyoon switched his expression.

Putting on the most innocent, refreshing, and radiant smile he could muster, he answered,

“Yeees?”

“I listened to your song. It’s gotten richer. The lyrics are good too. You write well.”

“Thank youu.”

“I’ve got some questions. Actually, never mind—I’ll just say it. Can you give me some time?”

“Oh? Why? Is something wrong?”

He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Thumping his chest once, Moon Jungbae spilled his words in a rush.

“I like Writer Seo’s songs. Whether I sing it or not is another matter. I just want to talk. What arranging program do you use? The bass was especially the highlight. Did you learn that? And the drums? That’s a sample, right? What do you use? Don’t tell me you recorded it live.”

“Wait, wait, hold on.”

Alright. Caught you.

Taeyoon suppressed the thrill rising from deep inside and asked,

“It’s your break time soon, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then come with me somewhere for a bit.”

“Huh? Where?”

“Hmm… you’ll see when we get there.”

It’d probably just be some quiet café.

“If it’s not far, sure,” Jungbae said.

He quickly changed clothes, flipped the shop sign from OPEN to CLOSE, and left the shop with Taeyoon.

If he’d seen Taeyoon’s grin again as he walked ahead—

Would Moon Jungbae still have followed so calmly?

No one would ever know.

“Ah-ah, mic test.”

When he came to his senses, it was one of those ‘next thing I knew, I was…’ moments.

The kind of thing you only read in internet memes.

“…Why am I here.”

When he realized it, he was already in the middle of it.

It had been so natural—just following Taeyoon inside—

that he’d ended up here.

“I wanted to talk with you through music only, senior.”

It was a karaoke room.

One of those coin karaoke places kids go to.

I mean, who would have guessed he’d take him to karaoke? In broad daylight? Without drinking?

“This is a coin karaoke, right?”

“You’ve never been?”

Instead of answering, Moon Jungbae looked up at the ceiling.

Then scanned the place thoroughly, corner to corner.

Equal parts ridiculous and fascinating.

Taeyoon asked again,

“You don’t go to karaoke much?”

“I used to go a lot. Let’s see…”

He tried to recall.

It had been so long he couldn’t remember.

He’d been dragged along to a few reunions, but he’d never actually sung.

Even now, the thought of singing in front of someone felt impossible.

Three, five, eight…

The familiar mechanical chime sounded.

The backing track began.

Taeyoon had gone ahead, chosen a song, and pressed the start button.

“I’ll sing one for you. I’m not that great, but… ahem.”

The title appeared on the karaoke screen.

Maybe it was just the sudden rush of a youthful atmosphere,

but even the cheap, sloppily made MIDI backing track didn’t sound too bad.

“I never really try to be positive…”

As Taeyoon started singing—

“Huhhh?”

Moon Jungbae let out a gasp and straightened up in his seat.