Guitar

“Are your memories… coming back at all?”

“No.”

At Myeongjeon’s reply, Lee Hye-in parted her lips slightly, then closed them again.

The silence hanging between them made Myeongjeon deeply uncomfortable. It felt as though he had come to see someone he hadn’t wanted to meet, made a halfhearted attempt at conversation, and then suddenly run out of things to say.

“I-I see… If you happen to remember anything, I’d like you to tell me.”

“… Yes.”

Fortunately, Lee Hye-in broke the silence. After saying that, she lightly fidgeted with her fingers as though carefully choosing her words.

“And… do you want to make music?”

“… Huh?”

“That thing you were doing earlier. I thought it was pretty good…”

No, no. Myeongjeon thought to himself. Objectively speaking, all she had seen was her daughter singing a song she had probably never even heard before—Lee Hye-in likely hadn’t even been born when it came out.

For her to see that and think, ‘Could my daughter have a knack for this?’ and bring it up… Just how thick were the rose-colored glasses she wore for her daughter?

“If Suyeon wants to make music, Mom can help you. At my workplace…”

“No, it’s not like that.”

Perhaps she had taken his silence as agreement, because the conversation was steadily moving forward. Myeongjeon firmly cut off the conversation as it was being pushed ahead without regard for him.

“There’s no need. I can do it on my own.”

“Uh, but you should at least take lessons or something…”

“No, I’m telling you, I really don’t need them.”

At that, Lee Hye-in’s expression became slightly cowed. Seeing it, Myeongjeon let out a deep inward sigh.

‘Is she a child or something…?’

People in the old days seemed much more grown-up at that age. Had the world become a little strange these days? Then again, this was an era when people married and had children after turning forty, and people over thirty appeared on television acting like children for laughs.

“Still, I’m glad you seem to have found a new hobby…!”

“Yes?”

Well, it was a hobby, technically… But when he looked at her as if asking what she was talking about, Lee Hye-in’s expression grew cowed again. Concluding that communication was utterly impossible, he let out another deep inward sigh.

‘And the fact that I’m speaking politely to a kid this young…’

Myeongjeon could only think that he needed to properly define their relationship someday.

* * *

The doctor said they should wait one more week, since some adverse effects might appear. Thanks to that, Myeongjeon was able to postpone the day he would go to school by a week.

He also had time to find out what had happened to his home and his equipment.

“You’re going to buy a guitar?”

After being caught fooling around at home, Myeongjeon told ‘Mom’ that he wanted to buy a guitar. There was no reason to hide that he played music, and even if he did hide it, she would find out eventually.

If there was nothing in his house—which was probably likely—he would need to buy an instrument, so he got the money from Lee Hye-in after a conversation along those lines. He even said, “I looked into it, and a decent instrument costs over a million won…” because he was afraid she might not give him enough, but she gave him more than two million won.

‘At least this should be enough to put together some decent budget gear.’

He probably wouldn’t be able to obtain all of his equipment. It wasn’t only a matter of money; rarity was a problem too. Some of the equipment he had owned was among only a few pieces in Korea, or even in the world, so recreating his old setup exactly would require a truly blood-and-tears effort.

‘I need to adapt. Adapt…’

Even if he treated music as a hobby, equipment was still important. So first, he would buy gear that offered good value for money. Then he would work session gigs and gradually collect more equipment. If he did that, he should eventually be able to put together a fairly good setup.

While thinking that, he found himself arriving in the neighborhood where he had lived. It felt as though he had only been gone a few days, yet the atmosphere of the neighborhood somehow felt unfamiliar.

Nothing had changed.

Well, perhaps the thing that had changed was his eye level. He was nearly a ja—about thirty centimeters—shorter. Plenty of other things had changed too, but this wasn’t an era when people measured miniskirt lengths, and a woman walking around outside wasn’t going to cause a scandal, so there was nothing to worry about on that front.

He walked through the alleys toward the house where he had lived. It was a corridor-style villa, the sort commonly found in old districts, with the first floor sunk slightly below ground like a semi-basement. His old home was on the fourth floor.

After climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, which had become a little harder to ascend, he arrived at Unit 403, slightly out of breath—and found the old landlady there.

“… You here to see the place?”

At that, Myeongjeon stiffened. Had she already put the room up for rent? He had been hoping there might be a chance to go inside.

“Ah… no. Um…”

“Hmm?”

“Um… the man who lived here… that fellow”—calling someone his age ‘that fellow’ was a little odd, but as long as she understood, what did it matter?—“I know him, but I lost touch with him, so I came to check, just in case.”

“Oh… Is that so? But he’s dead.”

“What??”

The old woman tossed out the words as though it had nothing to do with her. Myeongjeon put on a natural look of shock and asked how he had died.

“Well, he had some chronic illness to begin with. I heard he suddenly collapsed and died in the street while he was out somewhere? They couldn’t even hold a proper funeral. The house was full of trash, too. I lost money just cleaning it all out. Sheesh.”

‘What a crazy old hag… She must’ve pocketed the deposit too, and she’s complaining about the cost of cleaning the place?’

After barely swallowing the words that had risen to his throat, Myeongjeon spoke.

“Um… Was there anything of his left behind? I was supposed to buy a guitar from him.”

“A guitar… Hmm, uh, you mean one that looks like this?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

When he nodded at her vague hand gesture, the old woman cocked her head from side to side, then beckoned him to follow.

“As I remember it, this is the only thing of his that was left. He was holding it when he died. The police officers gave it to me.”

And what she showed him was his guitar. A replica of a ’69 Stratocaster, black everywhere except the neck—the very guitar with the short tremolo arm and Seymour Duncan pickups he had installed.

“Yes, I was supposed to take this.”

At his words, the old woman’s expression brightened slightly. As he had expected, it seemed the option of simply giving it to him had never existed in the first place. It had originally been his, but he could not prove that. If he told her, ‘I’m actually Seo Myeongjeon. I died, came back in this body, and returned to get my guitar,’ she would just treat him like a lunatic.

Still, he could probably extort it from her by threatening her or bringing up some other matter—for example, the fact that the landlady was evading taxes. But then he would earn her grudge. As a result, it might be discovered that ‘Myeongjeon’ and ‘Suyeon’ had no connection at all.

He didn’t know what might happen in the future, so he couldn’t take that kind of risk.

It would be better to quietly pay for it and take it.

“Hmm… I don’t know much about guitars or anything, but it seems this fellow was awfully fond of it. He’d even play it for me sometimes.”

The old woman lied without even moistening her lips.

“I don’t have that much money…”

Myeongjeon countered.

“Goodness, then does this old woman look like she has money? You sell things to whoever has the money…”

“I’m a student…”

“Oh, a student has a whole life ahead of her. Why make such a fuss?”

“He told me he’d give it to me at a low price…”

Thus, Myeongjeon and the old woman refused to budge even an inch, exchanging small volleys in their battle of nerves as they probed one another.

These days, everything had a price tag on it, but when he was young, goods were cheaper for people who were good at haggling. Having lived through that era, Myeongjeon was confident in this sort of thing.

“So how much are you going to pay for it?”

The dull probing had continued for several minutes—circling around whether he looked healthy, whether he really needed the guitar, and so on—before the old woman launched the first attack.

“I’m a student, so I don’t have much money. Would four hundred thousand won do?”

At that, the old woman let out an incredulous snort and said to Myeongjeon,

“Forty would be hard, I think. I could probably get more than that just taking it to a shop…”

“Ma’am. Still, I was originally supposed to buy it, and besides, I don’t remember him ever saying that he was close with you, the landlady…”

“Not close? How many times do you think I’ve come face-to-face with that fellow?”

The old landlady lied without even moistening her lips. But Myeongjeon was just as capable of doing the same. In fact, he had the greater advantage, since this was his own story.

“I came here a lot to learn guitar from him… but I don’t remember him ever saying that. If anything, about the landlady…”

“Goodness~ What a suspicious student. How about five hundred thousand?”

But Myeongjeon did not waver, holding firm to his price.

“I only have four hundred thousand won in cash right now. If I bring more, I’ll have to discuss it with my parents, but my parents are lawyers…”

“… Fine! Take it and make soup with it, for all I care!”

It was a lie improvised on the spot, but one that worked well on the elderly. At that, the old woman all but flung the guitar case at him. The moment he held out the 400,000 won, she counted it with a rapid flutter of bills, then slammed the door shut.

After staring at the door for a moment, Myeongjeon lifted the case… and was startled by how much heavier it was than he had expected.

‘If I were in my original body, I could have carried something like this around with ease…’

He wanted to go inside the home where he had lived as well, but the old woman had just seen him, and the fact that she had put the place up for rent suggested there was probably nothing left inside anyway… So, with a sense of disappointment, he turned away.

A few minutes later, Myeongjeon sat in a plaza near the subway station and took out the guitar. Having the guitar he had thought he would never see again back in his hands made Myeongjeon feel overwhelmed.

He had bought this guitar about fifteen years ago. Since then, unless a session client requested a different guitar, he had carried only this one around.

It wasn’t all that long a time compared with his age, but he couldn’t help feeling attached to it. It was the signature model of his favorite guitarist.

Myeongjeon lifted the guitar and slipped it over his shoulder. As he had thought yesterday, his body was too small to play it properly unless he wore it hanging around his stomach.

If it had been an acoustic guitar, he would have at least tried an impromptu jam. An electric guitar could be played like this too, but without an acoustic body or sound hole to make the sound resonate, it would not produce a proper sound.

‘What a shame… Now that I’m holding it, I want to play it at least once.’

As he rummaged through the case wistfully, two effects pedals suddenly rolled out. A Dallas-Arbiter Fuzz Face and a Vox wah pedal. They weren’t effects he had used often, but he had bought them because, as famous effects, he had wanted to own at least one of each.

‘Why are these coming out of here?’

He held the two pedals and fell into thought for a moment. He hadn’t used either of them during the CCM session, either…

Well, it didn’t matter. He had gotten two effects pedals for free, so wasn’t that good enough?

Thinking those two pedals should still be enough for most performances, Myeongjeon briefly checked his phone and opened Mule, the community where he had mainly been active.

[Is anyone available to play guitar busking right now?]

We got together to play in Hongdae today, but our guitarist says he can’t come because something urgent came up;

We can wait for about 30 minutes

As luck would have it, he saw a post that suited him perfectly.

- If I leave now, I think I’ll be there in about 30 minutes. Would it be all right if I came?

* * *

Hongdae’s busking zone. As people passed back and forth, two men were setting up a drum kit and a bass.

“Is this person really reliable?”

“He’s been active for over ten years. I’ve seen him making posts all the time, too. I haven’t actually seen him play, but he should be fine… And even if he’s trying to scam us, so what? We can wait a bit and go home.”

Jaeshin answered his younger acquaintance, who sounded as though he was getting impatient. In his opinion, someone who had been active for over ten years, said he was coming to busk, and then didn’t show up probably wasn’t playing some kind of prank.

“Phew… Why did he suddenly say he couldn’t come?”

“He said there was a death in the family. What could he do?”

Unlike Jaeshin, who thought it couldn’t be helped, his acquaintance continued to grumble. It was a weekly performance, and although only a few people looked forward to it, anyone would be annoyed when things suddenly turned out this way, so Jaeshin let him grumble.

“It’s time for him to be here…”

Time passed, and they had finally finished setting up the Fender amp they had dragged all the way there. As if the performance was about to begin, people began gathering.

But the guitarist did not come.

“Did we get stood up?”

“Let’s wait a little longer.”

Even Jaeshin, who said that, was beginning to feel awkward when… far off, just outside his field of vision, someone carrying a guitar came walking over.

“Hey, Hyeongtae. I think that’s the person over there.”

“Oh… Doesn’t look like it? She’s a woman.”

“… Yeah. Did this person really prank us?”

Just as he began lightly checking his instrument, thinking they could finally start, Jaeshin set his bass down again. The audience, who had started to gather, began to disperse once more with an air of “When are they going to start…?”

“I saw the post on Mule and came here. This is the busking gig, right?”

Surprisingly, the person who spoke was the one they had seen walking over with a guitar earlier. She looked at most like a college freshman, yet men passing by all turned to look at her at least once as they went—a pretty young woman.

“… Yes?”

“Um… uh… You’re the ‘teacher,’ right? The person who commented on Mule earlier?”

Jaeshin and Hyeongtae spoke while their minds had ground to a halt.

“Yes, that’s me. Is there a problem?”

And as she watched their blank faces, the girl raised one eyebrow.