Chapter 2

20-second composing genius, becoming a monster in 200,000 seconds - Chapter 2

The Mad Composer

I never thought I would end up in hell.

No, I thought that if I went to church, made a donation, prayed, and did some volunteer work a year before I died, it would be fine, right?

But before that, I was an atheist.

...But perhaps life is something you only understand when it hits you.

F*ck, I can't believe this is happening to me.

“Gaaaaah!”

It's been a week since I arrived in hell.

I was being cooked.

Not in a superheated furnace worthy of hell, but at a temperature of 55 degrees, just right to cook proteins and various bacteria to a perfect moistness.

This is my hell.

And this is the punishment that has been assigned to me.

* * *

My hell wasn't just that.

I needed to reconsider what the word "hell" truly means.

Why does hell exist?

It exists to inflict suffering on people.

However, the "suffering" that people feel can vary, can't it?

For someone who hates cucumbers, being forced to eat cucumber salad, cucumber rice, and cucumber sparkling water at every meal would be hell, but for me, it would just be a mouthwatering meal.

In that sense, what is my hell?

What do I hate the most?

I had forgotten, but now I clearly know.

It's been about two months since I entered hell.

After barely enduring the ambiguous heat, I started to hear sounds that I hadn't heard before.

-Whoooom

-Splat!

If someone were in front of me, I would want to ask what the sound was.

No, I don't want to ask.

No, I still want to ask.

My mind is a bit scattered, but the sound is definitely so disgusting that it makes me want to vomit.

“P-Please, stop itttt.”

I have sensitive ears. How many musicians have insensitive ears?

I was particularly sensitive to unpleasant sounds, and even sounds that others might just frown at would make me feel terrible.

So this is,

-Splat!

-Squish.

Perhaps this is the ultimate "disgust" I can feel.

‘No, if I ignore it, it sounds like the sound of pigeons flying away.’

F*ck, that's not going to happen.

No matter how many times I listen, it's definitely the sound of real-time defecation in Dolby Atmos stereo.

“F*ck, why are you doing this to meee!”

It was a loud voice that had adapted to hell, but it just extended into the endless darkness and didn't come back.

Humans may be adaptable, but that's only on Earth.

I was in hell, a place where no matter how much I struggled, I could never get used to it.

A year had passed.

I was still splashing in the water.

I don't even like swimming, and there's no pleasure in splashing in this temperature, but I keep moving to avoid the sounds.

The splashing sound brings a bit of calm to my mind and dilutes the sounds of defecation and flatulence.

It's the only respite and mercy in hell.

Three years had passed.

About half a year ago, I sensed a crisis.

The ambiguously hot water that had been torturing me.

I realized it wasn't eternal.

It was evaporating.

The surface reflecting the faintest light is now less than half of what it used to be.

Splash— Splash—

It takes more effort to make waves.

I submerged my face in the water to avoid the squishing sound.

It felt like my eardrums were cooking.

The sous-vide solution had completely evaporated.

And I started walking.

I had been walking a little bit before, but the water had slowed me down. Now that the water is completely gone, I am free.

However, the terrifying sounds coming from all directions are enough to erode my sanity.

Seven years.

All the remnants of my sanity had vanished.

But.

Snap—

For the first time since I fell into hell, I faced a "wall."

Squish— Squish.

Beep—!

When I confirmed the identity of the thing making the sound,

“H... Hahaha.”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“Hahaha!”

Am I losing my mind?

I already lost it a long time ago.

So am I just laughing because I'm insane?

That's not it either.

“F*ck, what the hell is that ass doing stuck in the wall?”

I'm just laughing because it's so absurd.

There's a sound, but no smell, no dirty discharge.

Is it really the cleanest ass in the world, created by God just for the "dirty sound"?

F*ck, what the hell is that.

-Splat!

I hit the hell ass, happy to meet another "organism" after so long.

Then,

Beep—!

The sound changed.

From a dirty sound,

to a slightly less dirty sound.

“...!”

And for the first time, I felt my heart race.

“The sound... changes?”

Of course, it's not sexual excitement.

I was just moved that the sound had changed according to my will, just like when I first put my hands on the piano keys at the music school.

The hope that I could create sounds as I wished began to grow.

“...Let's try it.”

After seven years, I started humming a tune instead of screaming.

In hell, there was no need to eat or excrete. Of course, there's no concept of a physical body here.

Still, when my mind was tired, I would sleep. I could sleep after the water was completely gone.

The rest of the time, I devoted to composing.

I added melodies a cappella and used a few hell asses to add harmonies.

“Aaaaaa—”

-Beep!

-Beep!

The hell ass changes pitch subtly depending on how hard you pinch or hit it.

However, since it doesn't have a clear structure like a piano or guitar, it's hard to control the subtle changes.

“Again. Aaaaaa!”

But since I had nothing else to do, I didn't stop. I kept composing.

At first, I used two hell asses for power chords.

Then I added another one for major and minor chords.

Eventually, I used both hands and feet for seventh chords.

There couldn't be a worse composing environment.

That's why I couldn't help but feel regret sometimes.

‘Born in the 21st century, I had such... such perfect equipment!’

Why didn't I finish my compositions?

Why was I so lazy?

‘...The environment wasn't good.’

When I was young, my family was very poor. We lived in a small public apartment with my mom, me, and my younger brother.

I never wore trendy clothes, and we only ordered chicken on special occasions.

If I hadn't become a scholarship student at a music high school, I wouldn't have even dreamed of making music my career.

But, I always think.

That can't be an excuse.

No matter how much I regret it internally, saying it out loud won't be forgiven.

I knew how hard my mom worked.

‘It's all in the past. Or... is that why I ended up in hell?’

I didn't give it my all.

I took for granted the results achieved through someone else's sacrifice and trampled on them.

Posting a 20-second intro to troll people... Sure, it was a bit mean, but it's not a major sin, right?

It was just ‘mischievous.’ Yeah.

Maybe a good slap would have been enough, but dropping me into hell was too much.

“Sigh... What's the point of regretting now?”

My sense of time was already as ambiguous as it could be.

I continued composing and performing.

In an environment worse than any other time or place.

And a few months passed.

Dun— Dun dun dun.

“What is it this time?”

Suddenly, a monster appeared in front of me.

Its movements were slow, but its form looked like it belonged in a real horror game.

Well, this is hell, so it's not surprising.

“Shit! F*ckers!”

My mind, consumed by madness, couldn't forgive anything that interfered with my music. I had no room for it.

I lunged at the monster,

Splat—

Thud—!

I crushed it.

And I repeated this for days, months, years.

Since I had been submerged in the sous-vide water for years, the pain was familiar.

There's no physical body to die. So, in thousands of battles, I never fell first.

Toughness.

A concept I had never experienced in my life was now ingrained in my soul.

And I,

“Now I can play guitar and bass too.”

I began to crave music even more.

I cut open the bellies of the hell monsters I had killed, pulled out their innards, dried and ground the bones, and tied them together.

To express it, it's terrifying, but isn't that how primitive string instruments are usually made?

I became more accustomed to life in hell. The pain that I thought I could never get used to also became familiar.

“Get it right, you bastards!”

And I finally reached the limit.

Realizing the limitations of 'multitrack' as a solo performer, I captured the hell monsters and used them as slaves.

The one with an octopus-like head beat the hell snare,

The monster that looked like a mix between a mackerel and a zebra plucked a single bass string.

And I got into the rhythm.

“...Now it's finally manageable.”

But it was still empty.

I still wanted to do more. I still wanted to hear more sounds.

It's not enough... It's not enough at all!

There were no mirrors in hell, but I was sure that if I saw my reflection, I wouldn't look much different from those things.

More time passed.

A lot of time.

When hell music became me, and I became hell.

Just at that moment.

-Boom.

A tremendous roar, like a massive earthquake, echoed.

“What's happening now?”

What is it? How will Satan torment me?

At first, I thought that. But my prediction was completely off.

-Snap.

A large hole appeared in the wall five steps away.

And after a very long time, a very familiar voice echoed.

“Did you enjoy the prepared hell?”

F*ck.

I didn't bother to answer with words.

Satan could read my thoughts, so there was no need.

“I'm relieved. I was worried you wouldn't like it.”

He laughed heartily, as if he was pleased.

I wondered again where my soul would go.

“It's amazing that your mind is still intact. Well, I'll tell you your destination as you wished. It's not heaven.”

Sigh.

I sighed.

I didn't expect it to be. I wasn't a particularly virtuous person.

Still, the thought of going to another hell was exhausting.

“Well, you seem to be misunderstanding. It's not heaven, but I didn't say it's hell either.”

Then is it purgatory?

If it's a better place, I might be able to focus more on music.

“You'll feel it's purgatory if you do. Many people describe it that way. Anyway, from now on, it's up to you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“And I'm not Satan.”

Not Satan?

After doing this?

I wanted to argue, but the conversation didn't continue.

The presence disappeared as soon as the words were spoken.

‘What will happen now?’

A life already ended. How much more suffering must I endure?

The question I had pondered for over a decade grew even larger.

I stepped through the hole that had appeared in the wall.

At the same time, my mind soared, and a severe dizziness overwhelmed me.

I barely caught my breath and opened my eyes to see...

“Huh?”

A very familiar scene.

A time when I regretted not working harder and doing better.

“Next is Kim Do-il. Present the song you prepared. It counts for your grade, so don't mess around.”

It was my high school days.

“Peo... ple...!”

“...Huh?”

“Peo... ple!”

I lunged at the 'people' I saw in front of me.

“Gaaaaah!”