Chapter 1: Hospital

“Student Ha Su-yeon, are you aware?”

Myeong-jeon turned his head to look at the doctor. An ordinary, middle-aged man’s face. A face he’d never seen before.

“Are you unable to speak, or hear, or anything like that?”

Unable to grasp the situation, Myeong-jeon chose silence. But the medical staff seemed to interpret his silence differently.

“Didn’t the tests come back clear? Were there any issues with language, hearing, or vision?”

“No, no problems were found.”

“But then why…”

The doctor, who had stepped away momentarily to speak with a nurse, returned to Myeong-jeon and examined him again.

“Everything seems fine… Student Ha Su-yeon, can you hear me?”

“…Who, who is Ha Su-yeon?”

The doctor, who had been leaning in close, pulled back, looking at Myeong-jeon with a puzzled expression.

“Who is Ha Su-yeon… you ask? You are. You’re Student Ha Su-yeon… Don’t you remember?”

“Ha Su-yeon… is, is my name?”

Myeong-jeon asked. Ha Su-yeon, Ha Su-yeon. He had no recollection of that name. Not in his family, friends, or any acquaintances. He even used a different nickname on Mule (a music community site).

But ‘Ha Su-yeon’ is my name?

What are they talking about?

Myeong-jeon and the doctor stared at each other in bewilderment. Then, as if suddenly coming to his senses, Myeong-jeon looked at his hands, then his chest, and began to touch his upper body in a flustered manner.

“M-Mirror!”

“Huh?”

“A mirror! A mirror!”

His expression changing with each touch, Myeong-jeon suddenly demanded a mirror. A nurse handed him one, and he looked at his reflection.

The person staring back at him was vastly different from the face he expected.

Pale skin, slightly upturned eyes. A gaunt appearance from a prolonged hospital stay, but even that gave off a decadent rather than sickly impression. The face of a young girl.

The kind of face that, if you saw her on the street, you might think, ‘She’ll definitely become an idol or something when she grows up.’

The problem was, such an appearance was absolutely not what should be reflected back at him in this situation… the situation where Myeong-jeon was looking at his own face.

“You’re saying you don’t remember anything?”

“Yes. I don’t remember anything at all.”

This was a lie.

Myeong-jeon remembered not only his life as Seo Myeong-jeon… but also the life of this student named Ha Su-yeon.

Or, to be more precise, the memories had come back to him.

Ha Su-yeon.

Currently sixteen years old, a first-year high school student.

Quite tall for a girl.

Pretty face.

Outgoing personality,

And therefore, quite popular.

Hobbies included browsing social media like Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok, and looking up fashion information.

Digging deeper into the memories, it seemed she was… a popular kid at school. One of the “cool kids,” or perhaps even a bully.

Her grades were decent, and she didn’t rebel against teachers, but she apparently hung out in a group, picked fights, and bullied weaker kids. On top of that, she seemed to have dabbled in drinking and smoking.

And the reason she was lying in a hospital bed…

As Myeong-jeon delved into the memories, he felt a sense of absurdity. The accident this Ha Su-yeon had suffered was…

After sharing three bottles of soju with two friends late at night, the three of them had piled onto a shared e-scooter and sped down the road before hitting a bump and flying off.

Two of them ended up with broken limbs, and Ha Su-yeon had become comatose.

‘They say everything is one’s own doing, but should someone die like this?’ Myeong-jeon, being somewhat internet-savvy, knew the kind of comments young people would leave on such news.

‘Natural Selection.’

While mourning the absurd accident, Myeong-jeon had a feeling, like something out of a drama, that the original owner of this body he now inhabited – Ha Su-yeon – was already dead.

He couldn’t explain why, but he had an intuitive feeling.

‘It would’ve been better for this girl to be alive than for someone who’s lived as long and as pointlessly as me to end up in this body…’

‘Wouldn’t it have been better? Right?’

Myeong-jeon had no purpose in life.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he’d lost it. Because he already knew how painful it was to have a dream you couldn’t achieve.

Of course, this Ha Su-yeon also seemed to lack a purpose… But beyond lacking one, she was already engaging in delinquent behavior – although Myeong-jeon himself was no stranger to a dissolute lifestyle – and ended up dying in a self-inflicted accident.

If they were both in the same boat, dreamless, shouldn’t the younger person have lived longer?

But even if he wanted to return the body, there was no way. Before that, the very fact that something out of a movie or novel was happening to him was unbelievable.

Lost in thought, Myeong-jeon didn’t notice the doctor quietly speaking to the nurse after writing something on his clipboard before leaving the room.

“Excuse me, miss…”

“…Yes?”

Seeing the nurse, Myeong-jeon blurted out the familiar title without thinking. The nurse looked at him with an expression that seemed to ask, “What did you just call me?”

“…Ah, I mean, nurse.”

“Yes?”

“Um, could you tell me what day it is today?”

The nurse glanced at her phone. “It’s October 14th.”

October 14th.

It had been about a month since he started recording the CCM session on September 15th. If a month had passed, his funeral would have already taken place… and his apartment would have been emptied by his tenacious landlord.

A life spent playing guitar, abandoning his parents, friends, and siblings, only to die alone.

What a futile and empty life it had been.

As he stared blankly ahead, the nurse said, “When your guardian arrives, I’ll bring them in. If anything happens before then, press this button to call me,” and left.

Guardian.

The guardian… would be this child’s parents. What should he say? Myeong-jeon’s parents had passed away a long time ago, so he couldn’t recall anything to use as a reference.

Before even thinking about the parents, what kind of life should he live?

Myeong-jeon didn’t know.

Would this life even continue? It could be a dream, and even if it wasn’t, the original owner of the body might return when he woke up. Even if it seemed logically impossible, the situation itself was beyond logic.

But if his hunch was right, ‘Ha Su-yeon’ was dead, and now he had to continue living as her. Considering that…

How should he live?

Should he live obsessed with the guitar, like his previous life?

Dissatisfied with everything he had accomplished, chasing the single dream of being recognized for his music, should he run towards that unattained goal again?

He’d already done all that.

If he had been a young rock star who died in his twenties, full of untapped potential and artistic brilliance…

He might have thought that way.

Like Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain… those who died before their prime, fading away like a submerged moon… he might have considered it.

But he was far too old for such thoughts.

He’d lived the life of a prodigy who learned everything instantly,

The life of an arrogant genius who could play any song at first sight,

The life of an ascetic who retreated to hone his skills,

The life of a prodigal son who chased fleeting pleasures, abandoning everything he held dear,

And even the life of repentance, picking up the guitar again, regretting everything.

He’d already lived them all.

He’d experienced all of that,

Lamenting his insurmountable limitations despite it all,

Realizing that lamenting, grieving, and weeping achieved nothing,

And finally, with great difficulty, severing his attachment to it all.

That weak human being…

Was Seo Myeong-jeon.

‘But at the end of such a life, this happens…?’

He already knew that effort was meaningless. Would it be different in this body? In this life? Would anything change if he put in the same amount of effort as he had in all his previous years?

He knew nothing would change.

Therefore, let’s stop that kind of life.

Let’s put aside the pursuit of success and just live an ordinary life.

Even if it meant living as a woman instead of a man, that would be fine. Wouldn’t something new be better than reliving what he’d already experienced?

Thinking this way, Myeong-jeon tried to put aside his worries about the future.

But one thought crept in from the corner of his mind.

‘Can I separate the guitar from my life?’

He hadn’t played the guitar solely for success. There was a time when he played for recognition, but going back even further…

He played the guitar for others at school. There was a time when he strutted around with the title of ‘the best guitarist in the world.’

Going back even further. The time when he pestered his parents for a guitar. The time when simply strumming the guitar at home was pure joy. The time when he listened to the blues and rock music his older brother played and wondered what it was.

The guitar.

He’d been with it since then.

More than anything else in the world. Longer than his family, friends, and even sleep, he’d spent time with it, side-by-side.

Could he possibly separate himself from it? A life not bound to the guitar. Could he live a life not bound to music?

Therefore, let’s make music.

Not for greatness, not for praise or acclaim,

But for something more primal.

Back to when he simply loved music.

Back to his childhood, when he loved the guitar unconditionally.

Back to a time before the weight of expectation settled on his shoulders.

That would be good.