Chapter 3

### Chapter 3, The Boy from the Slums (1)

### Chapter 3, The Boy from the Slums (1)

It had been two days since I returned to my 15-year-old self, just two weeks before the start of the new school year. Even the next day, it didn't feel real. I just did what I could.

Since it would take at least half a day for my mother to return from her shift at the restaurant, I thought to myself, "Well, this should be enough."

While my mother was out, I had not just cleaned the house but completely remodeled it. Of course, remodeling meant rearranging the furniture and tidying up a bit.

The familiar sight of the house after returning to the past was heartwarming, but it was quite inefficient. The already small space became even more cramped with the furniture not in its proper place. It was natural that my mother, who handled all the housework and commuting alone, had no time to worry about it.

'So, if there's someone with free hands, they should do it.'

I pumped some strength back into my arms, which had gone limp from moving the TV, and pushed the bookshelf into place. Now that the bookshelf was finally in its spot, it looked good, taking up the space nicely. All that was left was to sort the books on the floor and put them back in order.

Ding-dong.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Even with the unexpected visitor, I walked to the front door without hesitation. After all, there was nothing worth stealing in this house. It couldn't be a thief.

"Who is it—"

Standing at the open door was a person even smaller than me. It was the landlord's daughter I had seen yesterday.

"Oh."

"Here."

In her outstretched hand was a plate with pickled cabbage in red pepper sauce.

What is this, from the kimchi jar?

"My mom said there was a little extra, so she asked me to bring it over."

The girl, who spoke matter-of-factly, quickly lowered her arm, as if it was heavy. It must have been a bit heavy.

It was touching that she brought it over without showing any signs of it. It seemed that the people in this house were better than I had worried about. The aunt and the daughter, and even though I haven't seen the uncle yet, my mother's judgment is truly remarkable.

"Unc—"

"What?"

I almost called her "uncle" out of habit. With the age difference, the appropriate word, though a bit uncomfortable, was...

"Big brother will eat it well and thank you. Thank you for bringing it over."

"..."

It was embarrassing, but I had to get used to it. As I was trying to calm myself down, the girl, who had been standing there blankly, turned around and mumbled.

"Big brother, you're even shorter than me."

Before I could protest or even catch her, she disappeared down the stairs to the first floor.

Her words echoed in my ears several times.

—Shorter than me.

—Shorter than me.

—Shorter than...

This little brat!

My face turned as red as the red pepper powder on the kimchi, but the object of my anger was already gone. Besides, I was actually taller.

By two centimeters!

It was so unfair.

* * *

When my mother came home from work, she gasped.

"J, what happened to the house?"

Her gaze naturally fell on me.

"Hyunwoo, did you do all this?"

It was surprising, to say the least. The house had essentially become a different place. The moldy wallpaper was hidden behind a well-placed closet, the bookshelves stood neatly side by side, and the clothes that had been hanging around were now neatly organized in the closet by type. The TV, which had been slightly off the ground, was now at eye level with a wooden board underneath it. The house felt at least twice as spacious.

Ever since I started living in a dorm alone, I developed a strange obsession with organizing, and my ability to arrange things was amazing. Now that my obsessive-compulsive disorder has disappeared after a period of inactivity, it's only a benefit.

"Yes."

Even with my calm response, my mother couldn't close her wide-open mouth.

"You did all this by yourself?"

My arms were a bit sore, but it was good exercise. Most importantly, seeing her so happy made me feel proud.

"Ah, the landlord's aunt gave us some kimchi. I put it in the fridge. I washed the bowl and returned it. I put the leftover side dishes in a container—"

Before I could finish, my mother hugged me tightly. I was enveloped in her embrace, which smelled of sweat.

How hard she must have worked.

The smell that used to be a sign of her hard work now felt fragrant.

"Our son, why are you like this? You make me so emotional."

With her roughened hands, my mother caressed my face. Our eyes met.

"I did this to make you emotional, so it's only natural."

"Hehe."

The wrinkles around her eyes, which were about to form, curved into a beautiful half-moon with my joke.

I don't want to see tears in my mother's eyes anymore, even if they are tears of joy.

She had endured so much sadness alone that seeing her cry would tear my heart apart.

* * *

The next day dawned.

"Really, even after seeing it again, how did you think of moving all this here...?"

"Mom, you'll be late."

While my mother was still marveling at the changes early in the morning, I urged her to get ready for work. She was already starting to get used to marveling at the changes I made to the house.

"Your clothes are so neatly folded and organized..."

Of course, if this was the kind of habit she was getting used to, it would be enjoyable and not tiring at all.

"Mom, you'll really be late."

"Okay, okay. I'm just proud of you."

After my mother left for work as usual, I followed her out. Recalling my memories, I finally made my way to the old neighborhood. It had been only a few months for this body, but for me, it had been 14 years since I returned to the slums.

It was a very old neighborhood we had moved through before we got lucky and moved to a new one.

However, from the high hill.

The view of the slums from there was somehow vibrant.

Even compared to the future and the present, the slums were shabby, but perhaps the hard work of their daily lives was painted like a picture.

The scenes of dayflies fighting against the harsh reality flowed one by one.

I came out to clear my head, but instead of calming down, I felt even more confused.

I had come back to the past.

It was an opportunity that no one could get, an opportunity that promised a golden, brilliant future. However, I couldn't easily grasp the hesitation in my choices.

'Piano.'

I was confident in it more than anyone.

If I were given a second chance, I was ready to dive in without looking back. I thought my resolve was strong.

But the honest truth was—

'I'm scared.'

My wrist, which should have been fully healed, tensed up. It was definitely healed. There should be no problem now.

A phone call, like my mother's last words, made me embrace life with passion and challenge again.

Even though it was just a mediocre academy teacher, it was fine.

I gave up.

I thought I could give up.

...

The melody that flowed from my hands.

But the performance couldn't last more than 10 seconds.

The piano I faced again was as sweet as chocolate, but I had long become a dog.

In the dark, empty academy, I spent the night repeatedly playing broken melodies.

I had become a dayfly.

Just like the people in those slums, I was just surviving day by day.

Feeling grateful that the situation, though not improving, was at least stable, I endured each day.

"Is it right to play the piano again...?"

Realistic concerns blocked my heart.

If I go to a music school, my mother will have to live alone again, and to support her artistic son, she will have to live the same life in the slums again.

I don't want that.

Of course, if I were to succeed to a level that can't be compared, it might be different...

But, I don't know.

I had wished for it so much, but the fear remained.

The piano, the mature adult's brain, and the knowledge of the future.

Which path is easier and more stable?

In fact, the conclusion was already made inside me.

Yes, I will ultimately—

* * *

Eggs are a cheap, filling, and delicious ingredient.

Boil, boil.

Holding the steaming egg casserole with both hands, I moved it to the table. On the table were kimchi and steaming rice.

"Now you're even making dinner. Where did you learn to make egg casserole?"

"I asked the landlord's aunt, and she taught me a little."

"Oh."

My mother, smiling, took a big spoonful.

Plop.

Fortunately, it seemed to suit her taste, as she happily took another spoonful while blowing on it. Even if it didn't suit her taste, she would have been happy.

We continued our meal, chatting softly.

An ordinary but happy daily life that you only realize is precious when it's gone.

Just as the rice bowls were about to be empty.

"I'll do the dishes today."

"Huh? No—"

"Shh, if I keep this up, I'll forget how to do the dishes. Please let me do it today, son?"

How could someone who works in a restaurant forget how to do the dishes?

It was a ridiculous excuse, but I just nodded. I want to do everything for her, but she probably feels the same way.

I don't want to burden her.

"Okay."

"But you haven't been to the roof lately?"

"The roof?"

Something suddenly came to mind, but it was too vague to recognize.

Did I go up there to get some fresh air?

"Go up and get some fresh air while I do the dishes."

My mother, smiling, seemed to know something, but I decided to go up anyway.

The view of the night sky from the roof wouldn't be bad.

Especially at this time of year, the stars would be especially bright.

Creak.

I opened the door and stepped outside.

The stars spread across the night sky, illuminating the darkness in a rainbow of colors, like many fireflies.

I slowly looked up at the sky as I headed to the roof.

Step by step.

And just as I reached the halfway point of the stairs—

...♬...♩...

I realized.

The goosebumps running from my ankles to my back were telling me why I used to go up to the roof at this time.

...♩...♬...

The reason became clearer, like the chatter of the fireflies filling the night sky.

Gently.

But warmly.

It stopped my steps for a moment.

Thud, thud.

It led me to the roof. I had promised myself not to do this, to ignore it.

...♬...♩...♩...♬...

The increasingly clear sound squeezed my inner thoughts, pushing me to ignore them.

With each step.

With each step, the resolve I had made during the day was fading.

'I will ultimately—'

The resolve to let go was washed away.

– ♬ –

Only one desire remained in my empty heart. The desperate desire to place my hands on that black and white stage again—

The desire led me to the door of the attic room.

Creak.

The door opened wide. Inside, the landlord's little girl, who had been playing enthusiastically, stopped and stared at me blankly.

"What, what's this? Suddenly?"

"Just a moment."

Pushing the girl aside and sitting down, her rabbit eyes twisted in annoyance.

"Hey, really—!"

"Sorry, please."

The girl, whose face had turned red, calmed down at my request.

My hands overlapped the arrangement of white and black keys.

My eyes closed involuntarily.

I closed my eyes and faced reality.

I was scared.

But at the same time, I was excited.

There was no sheet music.

I recalled the scenery before entering the attic room.

The stars that adorned the night sky. The moonlight that gently illuminated the darkness.

Yes, that piece.

I opened the music book in my mind.

* * *

Creak.

The surprise was brief.

Chae-won's frown deepened at the sudden intrusion of an uninvited guest.

"Sorry, please."

Suddenly appearing and making a request. However, the somewhat dejected tone of voice strangely made Chae-won feel uneasy.

Tsk, just when the mood was getting good...

Just as she was about to pout, Hyun-woo's hands started moving.

At the same time.

Chae-won's pupils dilated to the size of saucers. Goosebumps ran down her spine to her toes.

She remembered the title of the song.

Debussy, Clair de Lune.

Debussy, Moonlight.

Blinking her eyes.

Before she knew it, the moonlight was resting on Chae-won's shoulder, even though the window was on the other side.