Chapter 41 : A Natural Picture

Chapter 41: A Natural Picture

What on earth was this?

It was strange yet cool, calm yet thrilling, heavy yet trendy.

That was the impression I had after listening to Moon Jungbae’s song.

Hard to believe, but it was real.

“Live as the real me……”

Goodness.

I couldn’t believe this expressiveness belonged to a man over sixty.

I had thought only Han Yujin could pull off this song.

‘What did I just witness?’

An extraordinary figure had appeared, shattering my expectations.

Being good at singing? That was almost a given.

Singing a song of the opposite gender? Difficult, yes, but not impossible—masterpieces don’t discriminate between genders.

If it had ended there, I might have just thought, ‘As expected, my ears never fail me.’

But it didn’t end there.

‘Does he… know how to dance?’

I was certain I saw it.

A delicate, floating movement that flitted between fatal and sexy!

It looked like he was just moving to the rhythm, but if you looked closely, you could tell—

He was subtly trying to follow Han Yujin’s choreography.

It was like when you can’t help but mimic the point choreography of a mega-hit idol song.

He had seen and heard it so many times that his body reacted automatically.

“Phew……”

When the song ended, the teacher let out a relieved sigh.

I shot up from my seat.

“Wooooooo!”

It felt like watching my favorite idol’s concert from the front row.

Inside a coin karaoke room barely two pyeong in size, a performance worthy of Jamsil Olympic Stadium had unfolded.

Whatever it was, it made me clap so hard my palms hurt.

A shame I didn’t have a light stick.

Was this the legendary presence of Cheongseong’s vocal?

In that moment, the teacher looked exactly like the protagonist of a youth anime.

I pictured him behind a mask, grinning as he said, “I’m not dead yet.”

But contrary to my expectations—

“Let’s see……”

This was only the beginning.

The teacher sang three more songs in a row, showcasing his full ability.

Ah, what would I have done if I hadn’t given him the mic!

It was a bizarre sight.

When the rabbit sang, the bear clapped.

When the bear sang, the rabbit clapped.

Inside a small coin karaoke room—

Taeyoon and Moon Jungbae sang their hearts out, each showing off to the other.

Old pop, rock ballad, hip-hop, K-pop, rock ’n’ roll… It was a battle that crossed genres.

Back and forth.

Two hours had already passed.

Taeyoon slumped back into his seat, panting heavily.

“Whew……”

He had always been confident in his stamina, but after singing back-to-back with such passion, he leaned against the sofa, utterly drained.

He realized—singing wasn’t something just anyone could do.

“You can sing a bit, huh?”

“If you say so, senior… thank you. Cheongseong!”

Taeyoon saluted sharply and laughed.

Inside the bear mask, Moon Jungbae was also smiling in satisfaction.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“It feels good singing again after so long.”

“How do singers manage three or four hours of concerts?”

“They rest in between. This is actually harder.”

“But I was really surprised. I didn’t think you’d know even the new songs.”

Adjusting the bear mask, Moon Jungbae replied,

“That’s because I’m not Moon Jungbae, right?”

“Sorry? Then…”

“Here, we’re Bear Moon and… what was it…”

“Seo Rabbit?”

“Oh, right. That’s it. We agreed to go as Bear Moon and Seo Rabbit.”

As Taeyoon nodded happily, sweat rolled down behind his ear.

He had sung with such passion that the edges of his mask were damp.

Just as he was about to take it off, Moon Jungbae stopped him.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s stay as Bear Moon just a little longer.”

“It was just something I came up with on the fly. Do you like it?”

“Bear Moon, Bear Moon. It really rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Feels almost… like I’ve been given a gift.”

In the momentary silence that followed,

Taeyoon and Moon Jungbae each enjoyed the atmosphere in their own way.

‘So… this works?’

It was fascinating.

It was nothing more than a crude mask you could probably buy at a stationery store.

Yet, the moment he put on the bear mask, it really felt like he had been reborn as Bear Moon, just as Taeyoon had said.

With his face covered, his real voice burst out.

How long had it been since he’d sung in front of someone?

It had been so long he couldn’t even begin to count.

Seo Taeyoon, this guy—

What kind of magic did you cast on this clumsy paper mask?

The sweat-soaked mask carried the smell of colored paper he’d known as a child.

Strange how something like that could move a person.

As Moon Jungbae looked at Taeyoon with pride, Taeyoon threw out an unexpected question.

“But, Bear Moon sir.”

“Mm?”

“Why is it so quiet in this karaoke place?”

“They must not be doing good business here either. Feels like backstage.”

“…Huh?”

“It was a joke. Not funny?”

“Uh, um, heh, hah, ha-ha.”

Whether he knew how awkward Taeyoon’s laugh was or not,

Moon Jungbae spoke again.

“Bear Moon… I think it could work.”

“You mean…”

“Writer Seo—no, Seo Rabbit. Rabbit, today…”

“Yes, sir.”

He straightened his back in tension.

He could somewhat guess what was coming next, but in Korean, you never really know until you hear the end.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

At those words, all the tension drained from Taeyoon’s body.

What answer could be more energizing than that?

Moon Jungbae extended his right hand.

Taeyoon stood and grasped it firmly with both hands. It was warm and soft.

The two of them removed their masks.

It was time to return to being Tonkatsu Place owner Moon Jungbae and outsider student Seo Taeyoon.

Moon Jungbae spoke.

“Feels like I’ve been stripped bare.”

“You look good without the mask too. You look really young. You’ve got a full head of hair, and also…”

“That’s it?”

“I’m still thinking.”

“You should’ve prepared in advance.”

The two of them were like a friendly uncle and nephew.

Now was the chance.

Drawing out another self through the mask was only the beginning.

This and standing on a stage were two different things.

If he wanted to completely win over Moon Jungbae, he’d need one strong move.

Taeyoon asked carefully,

“By the way, sir.”

“Mm?”

“Do you have any band songs you’ve been enjoying lately?”

“Band songs?”

Moon Jungbae thought for a moment.

He listened to a lot of songs, but being asked specifically about band songs put him in a bind.

A few came to mind, but if asked whether he listened to them often, he could say firmly, no.

He swallowed back the thought, Are modern bands even real bands…

If he said that too, he’d sound like one of those old guys always complaining about kids these days.

So he just asked back,

“Why band songs?”

Then Taeyoon gave an answer he never expected.

“Since I’ve given you one gift already, I thought I’d give you a bigger one too.”

“Gift? What else is there?”

At the word gift, Moon Jungbae swallowed.

This time, he was genuinely curious about what it might be and how he’d be surprised.

Taeyoon smiled slightly and said,

“It’s boring to put just one song on an album, right? Since we’re doing this, let’s do it properly.”

“Properly?”

“We’ve done a dry, modern-style song, so wouldn’t it be nice to add a more heartfelt band song too?”

Moon Jungbae slapped his thick hand against his knee.

“Yeah!”

Then he let out a shout-like cheer.

“A band song? You? Writer Seo can write band songs too? What style? Can I hear it now?”

“Well…”

Before he could even answer, a flurry of questions poured from Moon Jungbae’s mouth.

“Wait, I thought you only worked with MIDI? What instruments can you play? How did you even think of writing a band song?”

Then suddenly—

He muttered his true thoughts aloud.

“A band song… not just anyone can write one.”

And it was true.

Band songs and MIDI music were different from the ground up.

If MIDI music was precise programming, a band song required the organic interplay of each instrument’s characteristics and the performer’s individuality.

That’s why it was almost a challenge for a composer to complete a band song alone through a DAW.

They needed to understand each instrument’s unique tone, playing techniques, and interactions.

There were also limits to expressing the emotion and resonance of a live performance digitally.

Reading Moon Jungbae’s expression, Taeyoon answered firmly,

“I’m confident.”

“Really?”

“As long as you help me out, sir.”

“Heh-heh.”

“We’re a team now. Since we have Bear Moon and Seo Rabbit… couldn’t we call in some other friends too? Like, say, guitar by Guitarger… keyboard by Dorion? Or maybe not?”

Moon Jungbae’s eyes gleamed.

Perhaps he saw this as a chance to bring the scattered members of Cheongseong back together.

He had always blamed himself for Cheongseong disappearing without a trace.

A young, fresh-minded composer.

A seasoned vocalist and session musicians to back him up.

Topped with a humorous mask.

The picture came together naturally.

…Could this kid really have planned it all out?

“Would you like to hear it?”

“You sound confident.”

“I made it back in high school, though.”

“Already making excuses? Whether it’s from high school, elementary school, or when you’re sixty—no matter when you made it, you know a song has to be judged fairly, right? No excuses…”

“No, no. It’s not an excuse.”

At Taeyoon’s firm reply, Moon Jungbae twitched and flared his nostrils.

The boy who always looked so gentle and easygoing—

The moment they started talking about songs, he turned into a predator.

“Then what?”

“After hearing you sing, I think I need to make some changes to it.”

Oh-ho, would you look at this?

Moon Jungbae found the situation quite amusing.

“What, my style’s too old?”

“No. The opposite.”

“Hm?”

“The song I made is too conventional. The sound’s too warm, too. The intro’s too long, and the guitar solo feels a bit dated. But with you, I think a modern style would suit you better.”

Oh, really now?

“Blending electronic and acoustic sounds into a sort of hybrid works pretty well, actually. It feels… cooler, sharper. And if the drums are tight, it’ll sound even richer.”

That actually sounded convincing.

“Cheongseong is an iconic band from the ’80s. You have that traditional vibe, but I want to break out of that mold. That way, you won’t just be Moon Jungbae—you’ll become Bear Moon.”

If he said Taeyoon was a salesman instead of a composer, Moon Jungbae would believe it.

Listening to him, he found himself being drawn in.

No wonder Writer Oh Jisoo was so eager.

He wanted to hear it right away, but he’d have to wait.

Arranging a song wasn’t something done in a flash.

He wanted to call the members together right away, but that wasn’t possible.

At least a week?

Well, he could wait.

Just as Moon Jungbae thought that, Taeyoon muttered to himself,

“I’ll cut the intro boldly, use drum samples for now… It should be ready by the weekend.”

…The weekend?

And today was Thursday?

“You can do that?”

“Since it’s a band song, we’ll have to rehearse it anyway. I’ll make sure to pump you up, sir.”

At the time, Moon Jungbae only tilted his head, thinking, Is that all it takes?

Still, he faintly thought the kid had guts.

“Alright. Today was really good.”

“Call me any time you feel like karaoke.”

When the door opened, the noisy hallway outside suddenly went quiet.

Still, there was no sound of singing.

“Ahem.”

“Uh… Which room was ours again?”

“The bathroom?”

Why were those people clearing their throats and scattering awkwardly?

A moment later, the karaoke place returned to its usual noise as if nothing had happened.

“Take care on your way home, sir.”

“Aren’t you going to eat? I’ll give it to you for free today.”

“I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

“That’s a shame. Drop by anytime. Call me when the song’s done.”

“Yes! Cheongseong!”

Unaware that the karaoke place had gone quiet because people were listening to his and Moon Jungbae’s singing leaking from the booth—

Taeyoon hummed as he walked toward the bus stop bound for Ilsan.