Chapter 6

 
Ding.

The moment his fingers pressed the keys, a sound surfaced in his mind.

To be precise, he didn’t physically hear anything.

The sound simply emerged in his thoughts.

‘U-unbelievable.’

Yet, to Yuhyeon, this felt nothing short of a miracle.

His memories of melodies had been fading, but now, one had come back to him.

For someone with a hearing impairment who relied solely on memory, this was nothing less than miraculous.

Ding.

He pressed the keys again, and once more, the sound surfaced.

As vividly as if he were truly hearing it.

With sound came inspiration.

At this moment, he felt like he could compose the commissioned piece in an instant.

‘I need to start right now before I forget.’

Steeling himself, Yuhyeon placed his hands on the master keyboard and began creating the melody.

His overflowing inspiration transformed into a cascade of notes, a torrential waterfall of music pouring onto the page.

Ding. Ding!

To Yuhyeon, music was an outlet for emotions, a process of expressing the images in his mind.

Then what was performance? It was a medium for that expression, a tool to bring those images to life.

That was why he never hesitated to change instruments if he found one that better suited his expression.

It was also why he had learned to play multiple instruments, studied ballet and dance, and even pursued composition.

His imagination was too vast, too grand to be confined to just one instrument.

But when he lost his hearing, everything began to fall apart.

With no way to absorb new inspiration, his existing ideas gradually ran dry.

At some point, every piece he composed received the same criticism—”It feels melancholic,” or “There are dissonances.”

The reason was clear.

As the sound faded and inspiration withered, his music inevitably took on a somber tone.

‘The ideas keep coming…!’

And now, at the very edge of despair, a miracle had occurred.

As soon as the sounds resurfaced, so did his creativity—an endless fountain overflowing with inspiration.

Every press of a key instantly translated his emotions into music, and as the melody built upon itself, his vision of the piece became even more pronounced.

This was nothing like the times he had forced himself to churn out songs just to make money.

If anything, this was the first time in years he felt like he was truly composing.

At least in this piece, there was real emotion—real meaning.

Clack.

“It’s done…”

After refining the melody, he pressed save. It had taken only an hour.

Mastering, which normally required hours of meticulous fine-tuning, had somehow been completed in just sixty minutes—an impossible feat under normal circumstances.

Without hesitation, Yuhyeon sent the email.

[ Attached: Final version of the runway music. ]

There was no need for further review. He knew without a doubt that at this very moment, he couldn’t create anything more perfect than this.

“Whew… Should I get some sleep?”

He glanced at the clock. It was already 2 a.m. Normally, he’d be in bed by now, but for some reason, his eyes remained wide open.

Even more unusual, the inspiration hadn’t stopped. It was as if his body was telling him—No, don’t sleep yet. There’s more to create.

“Maybe just a little more.”

Yuhyeon opened a new project file.

‘Has it really been this long?’

He couldn’t even remember the last time he composed a piece that wasn’t for work.

Ever since he started composing for a living, he hadn’t made music just for himself.

Five years, at least? That’s why, even just opening this project, he felt an exhilarating rush.

‘It’s not like I’m selling this—it’s just for me.’

His fingers lightly danced over the master keyboard, tapping out a bright and cheerful rhythm to match the joy swelling in his chest.

Strangely, even though he had started this project to pour out his inspiration, the more he expressed, the more ideas continued to flow.

At this rate, he might never get to sleep. It would take at least a day or two to get everything down.

Time slipped away, and finally, his fingers pressed the last note.

“…Done!”

Through the window, the first light of dawn filtered in, painting the sky in soft shades of red and gold.

‘Five hours already?’

He had lost himself completely, composing through the night without even realizing it.

How long had it been since he last felt this kind of immersion? The last time was probably when he had composed Moonlight.

“Should I call it SUN?”

The sun had just risen, after all. And since it was the opposite of Moonlight, the title felt strangely fitting.

Renaming the untitled file to SUN, Yuhyeon saved his work and shut down the program.

‘I should let Sangcheol-hyung hear it later.’

What if he likes it? Should I pitch it to the Sumare CEO myself?

‘Pfft, as if.’

The thought made him chuckle.

There was no need to overthink it. After all, he had started this project to pour out his emotions.

‘Ah, should I upload it to the cloud?’

If nothing else, he could just upload it there.

Back when he had first started composing, he used to post his practice tracks all the time, but it had been over ten years since he last did that.

Are the files I uploaded back then still there? It was through that connection that I got to know Sumare CEO.

‘I’ve forgotten my ID anyway. I’ll check later.’

Yuhyeon slowly walked to his bed and slipped under the covers.

‘I hope the CEO sends feedback soon.’

For once, he had written a song he was proud of, and he was eager to hear the CEO’s response.

But considering how he always rushed for submissions yet was the slowest to pay, Yuhyeon wasn’t expecting too much…

‘Whatever. I need to sleep.’

Pushing aside his scattered thoughts, he closed his eyes.

He must have been more exhausted than he realized because the moment his eyes shut, he fell into a deep sleep.

It had been a long time since he ended a day feeling this good.

*  *  *

Bzzzz.

Bzzzzzz.

Yuhyeon’s smartwatch buzzed loudly against his wrist.

Ever since he lost his hearing, he had made it a habit to wear his smartwatch to bed, relying on vibrations for alarms instead of sound.

‘Ugh…’

But the confusing part was that he hadn’t set an alarm today—he had been up all night and deliberately left it off.

The second strange thing was that no one ever contacted him this early in the morning.

‘Who the hell is it at this hour…’

The vibration was relentless, as if something urgent had happened.

Annoyed but too groggy to ignore it, Yuhyeon cracked his eyes open.

‘Ugh, I barely slept.’

The pale morning light streamed into his room, suggesting it wasn’t even noon yet.

Sure enough, his watch displayed 9:30 AM. He had only slept for about three hours.

Bzzzz.

And yet, his smartwatch wouldn’t stop buzzing. Message after message was pouring in nonstop.

‘Who the hell is this?’

Even if someone texted him, it was usually just one or two messages, not this endless flood.

Frowning, Yuhyeon grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

[ Sumare CEO: The track you sent me is amazing! ]

[ Sumare CEO: The mastering is excellent, and the overall mood has improved so much. ]

[ Sumare CEO: It feels brighter somehow? Compared to the last version, it’s so much more vibrant. ]

A series of messages from the CEO, the very person who had commissioned the track, filled the screen.

[ Sumare CEO: This is the best one so far. Even the stakeholders love it. ]

[ Sumare CEO: With this level of quality, I could introduce you to other companies. If I find a good connection, I’ll help set it up. ]

‘T-the CEO…?’

Yuhyeon’s eyes widened.

It made sense that the CEO would respond quickly since the deadline was approaching, but the actual content of the messages was completely unexpected.

‘The best one so far?’

Not only was the CEO giving him high praise, but he was even offering to introduce him to other companies.

Apart from the brief period when he used to get contacted frequently on the cloud, this was the first time he had received such an overwhelmingly positive response.

‘This feels… strange.’

His track was being showered with praise, and the rush of dopamine hit him all at once.

During his time as a composer, Yuhyeon had always worked on commissions, bound by business relationships. But now, for the first time, he felt like an artist being recognized for his work.

And it wasn’t just anyone giving him praise—it was the notoriously meticulous Sumare CEO.

But that wasn’t even the most shocking part.

[ Web Notification ]

Deposit: 1,063,700 KRW
09:40 1772-****-52

‘Already…?’

Payments usually took at least a week, sometimes even two. To receive one this fast was unheard of.

[ Sumare CEO: I loved the track so much that I wanted to do something for you, so I made the payment as quickly as possible. ]

[ Sumare CEO: Please keep composing like this from now on. Thank you. ]

[ Sumare CEO has sent a gift and a message. ]

Yuhyeon was too stunned to react.

If he treated this like a dream, it would actually make more sense.

‘Why is he acting like this? Ah!’

A string of unexpected events—but in the end, they all boiled down to one thing.

He had written a good track. That was it.

“Not bad…”

A small smile crept up his lips at the rare moment of positive recognition.

At the same time, a long-buried hunger for validation reignited within him.

He wanted to hear more sounds. He wanted to capture more inspiration.

To do that, he had to return to where he had been yesterday. He also had some gold waiting for him there.

‘At least this month’s living expenses are covered.’

His gaze shifted toward the front door.

‘Do capsule rooms open in the morning?’

*  *  *

“Ten hours comes to 200,000 won, sir.”

“…Right. Here you go.”

“Payment received.”

Yuhyeon’s hands trembled slightly as he retrieved his card.

200,000 won for ten hours.

He knew this was necessary, but the price tag always caught him off guard.

At least the bulk payment had gotten him an extra hour.

‘Hopefully, by the time I’m paying rent steadily, I’ll be able to enjoy this without hesitation.’

Bzzzt. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

[ Sangcheol-hyung: Gotta head straight home after work today, so I can’t make it. ㅠ ]

Yuhyeon clicked his tongue in mild disappointment.

He had been planning to treat him to a meal now that he had some extra cash.

‘Oh well. We’re meeting tomorrow anyway, so I’ll just buy him something then.’

Without hesitation, he slipped into one of the empty capsules.

Now that he had done this once before, the process felt much smoother.

[ Booting up… ]

As soon as he put on the VR goggles and closed his eyes, a whole new world unfolded before him.

The world of Wonderland—where Yuhyeon could hear sound and rediscover inspiration.

Chirp, chirp—

The sound of sparrows filled the air. Something he hadn’t been able to hear before.

“Yeah… Being able to hear really is something else.”

He spread his arms wide, basking in the ambient noise.

Then—

Hurried footsteps approached, followed by frantic voices.

“Y-you’re finally here, Performer!”

“W-we finally meet! Ah, h-hello!”

Two men stood before him.

“Performer! We’ve been waiting for you. Could we have a moment to talk?”

“I-I’ve been waiting longer! Player, could you spare a moment to chat with me first?”

They spoke at the same time before glancing at each other, both desperate to get his attention first.

It was almost like they were competing for his time.

Yuhyeon blinked, confused.

“Talk to me?”

He stared at them, utterly bewildered.
 

To be continued

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