Chapter 40: Presenting a Solution

One day, out of nowhere.

Suddenly, without warning.

There are times when a song you had forgotten about drifts faintly back into your ears.

“My life is so cool…….”

Today was exactly one of those days.

It happened the moment Teacher Moon Jungbae handed me a card receipt.

As I absentmindedly took the receipt, this music came back to me after a long time—like a welcome guest.

“Life is wonderful. You just have to look at it from a slightly different angle.”

I sometimes went alone to a coin karaoke.

The very first song I picked was always this one.

When I was feeling down, I sang it to feel better; when I was already feeling good, I sang it to make the moment even better. And it really worked every time.

The day I met my father after a long time—

I sat alone in a coin karaoke booth and sang only this song over and over.

Life is cool!

That’s the literal translation.

But the meaning I found in its lyrics was a little different.

Whether you’re winning or losing, the very fact that you’re living through this moment is amazing in itself!

That’s what this song had always whispered to me.

“Maybe you’re the one who should seize the chance again.”

I sang on quietly, my eyes fixed on the karaoke screen.

Three minutes passed in a flash.

I queued up two more songs right after. I didn’t even know why.

I punched in the numbers my fingers remembered and sang the songs my heart remembered.

Only after finishing the three songs did I turn around to look at Teacher Moon Jungbae.

The surprised look he had when we first walked into the karaoke booth was gone.

With his fingers laced together on the table, he was watching me—

With a deep, intense expression.

“……”

“……”

When the song ended, a short silence followed.

Then I heard someone in the next room singing Han Yujin’s , like background music, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Why was that?

Was it because I was proud to hear my own song here? Or because the student next door was singing it surprisingly well?

Well, either way didn’t matter.

As I was wondering what song to sing next, Teacher Moon spoke, almost to himself.

“That’s nice.”

I’m not exactly good at singing.

My voice is on the husky side—so deep that it can sound heavy.

And it’s rather dry. Should I say it lacks emotion?

Even so, I like singing.

Not everyone’s a Son or Messi who plays ball for fun, right?

Anyway, getting a compliment from a vocalist who once defined an era made my shoulders rise with pride.

Heh, am I that good?

I grinned a little and asked,

“Do you like Sweetbox? Was my singing not too bad? I did my best!”

“No, not that.”

Huh? If not that, then what?

I tilted my head in confusion.

He jerked his chin toward the side and answered,

“The song coming from the next room.”

“……?”

“You don’t know that song?”

“You know that song, Teacher?”

“What, am I not allowed to know songs these days?”

“What about it?”

“It’s fresh, isn’t it?”

That confirmed it.

The entire universe was clearly conspiring to mess with me.

Teacher Moon Jungbae knew Han Yujin’s song? Did CEO Kim Minsoo tell him yesterday that I wrote it?

Still…

To suddenly say it’s good without any context left me unsure of how to respond.

So I just…

Shoved the mic at him.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“We have to take turns—that’s the unspoken rule. I’ll cover this session, so sing to your heart’s content.”

Teacher Moon, caught off guard, took the mic and looked between my face and the mic.

“Hmmm.”

Then he took a deep breath and said to me—

“Didn’t you hear it?”

…He was probably talking about himself.

I had heard a rough version of it.

After that, I had even looked up old articles.

I hadn’t lived through that time, so I didn’t know the details, but… they really were awful people.

I mean, if someone works, you have to pay them!

Apparently, there had been a conflict over payment settlements.

Back then, yes—that’s how it was. Those with money controlled public opinion.

It didn’t matter if there was the internet or whatever else; they went around giving interviews everywhere, busy condemning the members.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what he had felt back then. And I shouldn’t try to.

A half-hearted comfort would never work.

How many people must have tried to drag Teacher Moon Jungbae out of that tonkatsu place?

But nothing had changed.

I decided to share my own kind of empathy—

In other words, presenting a solution!

“I only know that you went through a hard time because of bad people.”

Moon Jungbae nodded.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve sung, hasn’t it?”

I thought that was obvious.

But the reply was unexpected.

“How can you live without singing?”

“…Huh?”

“I sing alone. In my studio.”

“You have a studio?”

“There’s a small one next to the shop.”

Oh-ho.

That made things easier.

This meant… this meant…

There was still a small ember left in his heart, wasn’t there?

If someone just blew on it, it could flare up again. And I was sure I could be that someone.

“I really like karaoke.”

“Do you come often?”

“I come alone, or with my hyung… but back then, I always came because I wanted to sing.”

“Seems like today’s the same. You sang three songs straight, all by yourself.”

“This time’s a little different.”

“How so?”

“I came because I wanted to let someone hear me, and I wanted to listen, too.”

Moon Jungbae’s expression changed.

He didn’t look displeased.

Since he’d taken the mic earlier, his face had been somewhat firm—

Now it had softened, noticeably so.

Was this my chance?

I brought out the secret weapon I’d prepared.

I didn’t know if it would work.

This was someone who had feared stepping on stage long before I was even born.

In all those years, how many times must he have tried? How much must he have agonized?

I offered him my ambitious weapon.

“…Hmm?”

“My secret weapon.”

“That’s… pretty cute for a weapon?”

“Simple is best! No need to overthink it. Sometimes the simplest things are the answer. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think it’d suit you really well.”

“Oh, honestly…”

Thankfully, he hesitated less than when he’d first taken the mic.

Carefully accepting my weapon—no, my gift—he murmured softly,

“A mask…?”

“Cute, right?”

“A raccoon?”

“No, a bear.”

I couldn’t tell if he liked the mask, or just found the situation ridiculous.

He chuckled, looking at me.

“Could I really hide behind a paper mask like this?”

“It’s not just paper. It’s… a secondary persona. A ‘bu-kae.’”

This time, he let out a small laugh.

The atmosphere was softening.

Without being too playful, but still a little serious, I said what I’d prepared.

“Anonymity. It actually gives you a surprising amount of security.”

“You’re saying to disguise myself?”

I replied firmly.

“It’s not a disguise.”

“Then what?”

“A return to essence?”

“…?”

“You’d be judged purely for your music. Not just a visual prop… but a new you. Not Cheongseong’s vocalist Moon Jungbae, but, say, ‘Mr. Bear.’”

I delivered the last part calmly.

“I meant that, rather than a comeback or revival, it could be a new beginning. I really want to hear completed with your voice.”

That was all I had prepared to say.

It felt a little rambling, but I think the main point got across.

Maybe it was because I’m not that eloquent.

If he asked me something I wasn’t ready for, I might stumble.

But I had no regrets—this was my best effort, my own solution.

“Hmmm…”

Fortunately, he didn’t rip the mask to shreds, nor did he throw it aside asking if I was teasing him.

I tensed slightly.

If he didn’t like it? Well, nothing I could do. I didn’t have a Plan B.

After a moment’s hesitation…

He lifted the bear mask to his face!

“For something made of paper, it fits surprisingly well.”

Through the eye holes, I could see his eyes curve like crescents.

That counted as half a success, right?

It was like being possessed.

That twenty-three-year-old kid had stolen my soul all day.

‘…Have I been caught up in something?’

Moon Jungbae thought.

If he had come in and begged and pleaded like any other kid, this moment wouldn’t exist.

From the moment he’d opened the backstage door until now—

He must have planned and designed everything meticulously.

Just like… a song he’d written himself.

He pulled people in without leaving a single gap.

Every casual word he tossed out with that innocent face poked and tickled at the heart.

“Wow, it really suits you.”

Even now.

Everyone else just tried to stay on Moon Jungbae’s good side, too busy trying to impress him.

Maybe it was because of that heavy word—panic disorder.

He could see how cautious they were, careful again and again, working hard not to disturb his feelings.

But this one—

“Is ‘Mr. Bear’ a bit tacky? In English it’s Bear… in Japanese, Kuma… in Spanish, Oso… Which one should it be? ‘Bear’ does sound friendlier.”

—this one was completely different.

He didn’t see him as a pitiful band vocalist who’d been knocked down by panic disorder, nor as a tool to be coaxed into releasing an album to generate money.

He simply saw him as—

“Ah! I’ve got it! Let’s take your surname, Moon, and make it ‘Bear Moon’! How about ‘Bear Moon’? You could bend the mask a bit to make it look like someone took a bite out of it. It’s actually a mark from the past, but it’s something only you and I would know. Wow, Seo Taeyoon, you nailed it.”

—someone to talk to as if he were a friend, regardless of age.

Let’s see.

If his first love had worked out, a son that age? He’d probably have a grandchild by now.

Even so, he felt like a friend or colleague, not a junior.

Looking at Taeyoon…

It reminded him of that time when he didn’t care about anything else—

When he walked his own path no matter what anyone said.

There had been a time when he, too, was that fresh—

When he’d lived only thinking about music with his bandmates.

Those faded days came vividly to mind.

Thanks to Taeyoon.

“Writer Seo.”

“Yes?”

“Can I speak casually with you?”

“Oh, of course. Absolutely.”

“This… doesn’t look silly, does it?”

“No. You look much younger. I could believe you were my friend.”

Kid.

Every word out of his mouth made people smile.

Moon Jungbae looked at his reflection in the coin karaoke’s glass door.

With the mask on, he looked like someone else entirely.

Just like Taeyoon said—

It was definitely him, but also not him.

The sense of security given by that palm-sized paper mask was surprisingly warm.

“I understand what you mean, Writer Seo, but…”

As he spoke, he started to take the mask off.

“Wait! Wait just a second.”

Taeyoon stopped him.

“I knew you’d do that!”

“…?”

“So I prepared one too.”

What was with this kid?

This time it was a rabbit mask—pink, no less.

“If you were the only one wearing one, I thought it might feel awkward. I really like putting things on my face.”

“Heh heh.”

“Now we’re not Moon Jungbae and Seo Taeyoon—we’re Bear Moon and Seo Rabbit.”

“I… suppose so?”

“Here.”

This time, Taeyoon handed over the remote control.

Moon Jungbae didn’t refuse—he took it.

“Let’s see…”

Like a lie, he suddenly had the courage to sing.

Because he wasn’t Moon Jungbae—he was Bear Moon.

What should he sing?

His debut song? A hit song?

Or the song he’d most enjoyed listening to recently?

He seemed to decide and opened his mouth.

“Moon Jungbae would sing an old song, but Bear Moon should sing something trendy, right?”

Tap, tap.

Slowly but surely, he pressed the remote’s keypad.

S… u… p… e… r…

Five clear letters appeared in the search bar.

Seeing them, Taeyoon let out an exclamation.

“Gasp!”

[Super Ride]

That’s right.

The first song Moon Jungbae chose to show as Bear Moon was none other than Han Yujin’s new song—Taeyoon’s debut composition—Super Ride.

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