NOVEL NEXT Chapter 47
Episode 47: The Demon King (1)
It was common knowledge that Jung Seojoon was Han Gwangsook’s prized pupil.
Though unpleasant rumors were circulating between the two, for the moment, people’s attention was drawn elsewhere.
How would the maestro teach her star pupil?
Would she scold him as usual?
Or would she only focus on his merits?
Furthermore, the audience was curious about the performance of Jung Seojoon, once hailed as a genius.
When the prodigy who had vanished reappeared, he drew much attention, but that interest had waned over time.
This was partly because many talented young pianists had recently emerged in Korea, and partly because Jung Seojoon had not been as active in public performances compared to others.
The murmurs grew louder as Jung Seojoon stepped onto the stage and approached the piano under countless gazes.
“Take a seat,” Han Gwangsook said casually.
The two sat comfortably across from each other with the piano between them, a far cry from the tense atmosphere of previous lessons.
“Now then,” she said, unfolding a score she had brought with her.
“Today, I’ll introduce you to Schubert’s Erlkönig.”
“Oh, he’s one of my favorite composers.”
“Which of his works do you like best?”
“I often listen to Serenade from Swan Song.”
“Yes, that’s a wonderful piece. Which version do you prefer?”
“The violin version. I recently watched Han Yeoreum’s performance, and I couldn’t tear my eyes or ears away. It felt like falling in love, if only for a moment.”
“Oh my, really?” Han Gwangsook chuckled, covering her mouth in delight.
While the lesson seemed ordinary to the two of them, the audience saw it differently.
What on earth…
Is this even a lesson?
To them, it looked more like two people chatting in a café than a serious instructional session.
Han Gwangsook handed over the score she had opened.
“This is Schubert’s first published work, Erlkönig. Liszt later arranged it into a full piano piece.”
“I’ve heard the original version before.”
“Have you? Then let’s skip the details and go straight to your assignment.”
She handed him an old book with the title The King of Lieder, Schubert on its worn cover.
“Though Schubert is now hailed as the King of Lieder, he lived a life of poverty and hardship.”
“I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t pay much attention to composers. But I always tell my students that to perform well, they must understand the composer. That’s why I chose Schubert for your next piece.”
“Why is that?”
“Despair.”
“Despair?”
“Yes, it’s an emotion you might find difficult to understand, but I want you to study it.”
“Hmm… I understand.”
“Let’s see your results during the weekly session three days from now.”
With that, the lesson ended, and Jung Seojoon left the stage without playing a single note.
****
The next day, the fifth day of the camp, was the day of the Korea University A Orchestra’s performance for the participants.
After dinner, everyone gathered in the grand banquet hall, including the Poonggwang High Orchestra Club.
The performance ended with a flourish.
The art school students gave a standing ovation, their excitement waking the Poonggwang Orchestra Club from their slumber.
“Wow, I slept like a log… It’s been so long since I had a nap like that.”
“Seriously… If only every day could be like this.”
The entire Poonggwang Orchestra Club had fallen asleep. With no time to rest thanks to Jung Seojoon driving them from morning until night, they had no energy left.
In such a state, classical music was no different from a tranquilizer dart.
“Did I snore?”
“I have no idea.”
As they awkwardly wondered if they’d been too obvious, snippets of conversation from nearby art school students reached their ears.
Most of it was easy to ignore, but one comment stood out too much to let slide.
“They’re trash.”
“What did you just say?”
A third-year student from Poonggwang High lightly tapped the back of one of the art school students sitting in front of them.
The student turned around.
“What?”
“You just called us trash. Didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
The student held up an empty drink can.
“I was talking about this.”
“You little…”
The Poonggwang student bit back his words, knowing that causing a scene here would lead to nothing good.
“Forget it.”
“Nothing else to say, right?” The art school student replied with a smirk, as though provoking him further.
The Poonggwang student wondered if the boy was deliberately picking a fight but restrained himself. With that, the brief commotion ended.
Later, a group of Poonggwang High third-years gathered in the lobby of the first floor, heading to a convenience store for snacks.
“What the hell…”
They frowned as they approached the store, where art school students were loudly blocking the main entrance.
The Poonggwang students watched with irritation.
They weren’t any different from how they had been on the first day—perhaps even worse.
But they couldn’t voice their displeasure. They were already isolated here and didn’t want to create trouble that might provoke Jung Seojoon.
As they quietly made their way to the convenience store’s back entrance, one of the Poonggwang students clenched his teeth, glaring at someone.
“That bastard…”
Among the loud group of art school students was the boy he had clashed with earlier.
The boy in the center of the group pretended to sleep, then hunched his shoulders dramatically and muttered mockingly, “Ah, whatever, forget it~.”
This much, the Poonggwang High student managed to endure.
But what came next crossed the line.
The boy pointed at them, burst into laughter, and soon the whole group joined in, laughing uproariously.
“……”
At last, the Poonggwang High student who had become the butt of their jokes snapped. His tightly restrained temper broke loose.
“You son of a bitch!”
He let out a furious yell and charged toward the group.
Startled, a few other Poonggwang students rushed to hold him back, but he had already pushed his way into the group and grabbed the collar of the art school student who had mocked him.
“You little bastard! I’ll rip that filthy mouth of yours apart!”
Despite the threat, the art school student remained unfazed, snorting in derision before speaking.
“Wow, talk about acting like a thug. Listen, buddy, you should just thank Jung Seojoon for getting you into this fancy event and quietly stay out of trouble, alright?”
“What did you just say?”
“Am I wrong? If it weren’t for him, would you even be here? You should be grateful for that pretty face of his and stay out of sight.”
Not only did he insult the Poonggwang Orchestra, but he also indirectly criticized Jung Seojoon and Han Gwangsook.
Understanding the underlying insult, the surrounding art school students giggled.
With every laugh, the collective patience of the Poonggwang students began to unravel.
“Shut your damn mouth, you bastard!”
The fists of several Poonggwang members clenched tightly, and the tension was on the verge of boiling over.
Sensing this, the art school student taunted again.
“Go on, hit me already. Or are you just all bark and no bite? Pathetic.”
“You bastard!”
One Poonggwang student couldn’t hold back any longer and swung his fist.
Thud—
Before it could land, someone kicked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Who did that?!”
The furious student roared, turning to face his assailant.
Standing there with a convenience store bag in one hand was none other than Eom Deokgu.
He glanced at the fallen student, shook his head in disapproval, and walked away without a word.
“……”
The student, panting heavily, said nothing further. His moment of rage was quickly extinguished by the sudden intervention, as if doused with cold water.
“Tsk…”
One of the art school students clicked his tongue and frowned, watching Eom Deokgu’s retreating figure.
Then, as if recalling something, his expression changed.
“Oh.”
He’s the troublemaker from Poonggwang on the first day.
He was about to mock him further when Han Gwangsook’s assistant suddenly appeared, hurrying toward the scene.
“Hey, hey! What are you students doing here? No fighting allowed!”
The assistant waved her hands, urging the art school students to back off.
“Everyone, go back to your rooms! Now!”
Under her stern gaze, the students dispersed reluctantly.
****
Had there ever been a time when I was insulted this openly in my life?
The places I’d visited today—the cafeteria, the convenience store, the restroom—were few, yet the number of snide remarks I overheard was overwhelming.
From the standard so annoying to whispers calling me a lunatic, a braggart, or a player who had supposedly slept around and discarded all the girls in the Poonggwang Orchestra, leaving it devoid of women.
The most absurd was the claim that I deliberately avoided playing the piano well during my master class with Han Gwangsook because I lacked skill.
Listening to these baseless criticisms, seething with jealousy and spite, brought back memories of the past.
How many people must have mocked and belittled me behind my back?
How many words had been used to crush and defile me?
If I’d been as sensitive to such remarks back then as I am now, I might not have survived this long.
“……”
Lost in thought, I climbed the emergency stairs.
By the time I reached my destination—the floor where the Poonggwang practice room was located—I realized my mind had wandered too far.
The hall was quiet, as the day’s schedule had ended and no one from the orchestra was around.
Entering the practice room, I saw Kim Bom scrolling through her phone.
“What did you want to say?” I asked, sitting beside her.
“Feeling disappointed?”
She raised her eyebrows and looked at me.
“What?”
“Didn’t you say you were going to the café street with Han Yeoreum? Did you cancel because of me?”
“No. It’s raining outside.”
“Ah… You don’t usually go out when it’s raining.”
“Yeah, and I couldn’t keep my promise yesterday, so I should today.”
“Such an honor,” she said sarcastically.
I nodded and asked, “Where’s Choo Minji?”
“She went downstairs. Said she’s sneaking a camera into the karaoke room without Eom Deokgu noticing.”
“Hardworking as always.”
“By the way, did you know Eom Deokgu used to study vocal music?”
“Vaguely, but not the details.”
“Interesting…”
“Oh, I wanted to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“What does yeomisae* mean?”
“Why?”
“Someone called me that earlier when I was eating with Han Yeoreum. They said, That guy’s such a yeomisae. And I think I heard it yesterday too…”
Kim Bom abruptly stood up from her seat.
“Who said it? Which jerk was it?”
“Is that an insult?”
“It means ‘a guy crazy about women.’”
“…Hah.”
Crazy? That was over the top.
I wasn’t that bad.
As I stood there, incredulous, Kim Bom grabbed my shoulders, her eyes blazing.
“Where else are you going to find someone like you? A guy who couldn’t care less about girls and only loves music.”
“Wait.”
Kim Bom locked the practice room door, then marched back to me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me to a corner.
After sitting me down, she looked as if she was about to make an earth-shattering declaration.
Her expression grew serious, and her lips parted with weighty deliberation.
“The reason I asked to meet today…”
She started cautiously, her eyes trembling, her tongue nervously moistening her plump lips.
For a moment, she reminded me of someone—one of the girls who had confessed to me before. Like the classmate who had given me a drawing or the others who had awkwardly confessed their feelings.
I saw their faces reflected in hers.
“Wait.”
I raised a hand to stop her.
“Do you really have to say it?”
Kim Bom was one of the few friends I had, and I cherished that.
Though my first impression of her wasn’t great, I had come to see her as a kind, genuine person with a good background.
But she was still too young for me to think of her in a romantic way.
Rejecting her outright might drive her away, like those before her.
“What are you talking about?”
She batted my hand away.
“You think you know what I’m going to say?”
“More or less.”
It was obvious.
She was probably anxious, seeing me associated with so many other girls.
Knowing her personality, she wouldn’t just sit back and watch.
“Seriously…? You already knew?”
“It’s just that everyone thinks the same way.”
“Ah…”
“Being too good-looking is a curse, too.”
****
Kim Bom was flustered.
Could Seojoon really know what she was about to say?
Did he know that Han Gwangsook and her daughter were trying to use him?
Did he realize that these overblown rumors stemmed from their exploitation of him?
“Seriously…? You already knew?”
“It’s just that everyone thinks the same way.”
“Ah…”
“Being too good-looking is a curse, too.”
Her heart ached.
Judging by his words, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to him.
He seemed to think it was his fault that people tried to use him.
This idiot.
Was this why he had quit music before?
Come to think of it, he had been Han Gwangsook’s pupil as a child, so it made sense.
Perhaps he had escaped from her only to come to Poonggwang High because of his love for music.
Poonggwang was known for its liberal approach to arts education, a good step toward college.
Had he even learned to fight because he was sick of being taken advantage of?
Kim Bom’s thoughts spiraled, and she started drawing conclusions on her own.
“Bom?”
Seojoon’s voice broke the silence, and she nodded.
“So, you already knew everything…”
“Yeah.”
Seojoon reached out and patted her head.
“You must have been struggling on your own. I understand.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoyingly nice.”
Who’s comforting whom right now?
“Forget that. What are you going to do about it? What’s your answer?”
“Do I have to answer now…?”
When Seojoon hesitated, Kim Bom grew frustrated.
“This guy! Just say it already! Tell Han Gwangsook you’re done being used! Tell her to back off! Why do you think these stupid rumors are going around? Ugh, you’re so frustrating!”
“…Huh?”
“What!”
“……”
“What’s with that dumb look on your face?”
“……”
“Why are your ears turning red all of a sudden? Are you sick?”
“…No.”
.
.
.
After that, Seojoon and Kim Bom exchanged a few words.
Kim Bom was both amazed and relieved to learn that Seojoon was aware of everything.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot.”
The idea that Han Gwangsook was using him? It was laughable.
If anything, he had only benefited from her guidance.
But Kim Bom, lost in her own assumptions, couldn’t see that.
In her mind, Seojoon was a rising star bound by the clutches of a manipulative mentor.
Teenage girls and their imaginations…
“Ah…”
Seojoon suddenly remembered his earlier misunderstanding, a wave of embarrassment washing over him.
He quickly swallowed his thoughts along with his pride.
“Ahem.”
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you’re not sick?”
———————————————————-
Yeomisae (여미새) = It is an abbreviation for a girl-crazy bastard (Yeoja Michin Saekki/여자에 미친 새끼) and is an expression of disgust. It refers to a man who is extremely obsessed with women, either offline or online. cr. namu wiki.