Chapter 3: Guitar

“Have any of your memories returned?”

“No.”

At Myeong-jeon’s words, Lee Hye-in opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again.

The silence that hung between them was incredibly uncomfortable for Myeong-jeon. It felt like an awkward blind date where the conversation had abruptly died after some forced small talk.

“W-Well… if you happen to remember anything, please let me know.”

“…Okay.”

Fortunately, Lee Hye-in broke the silence. After saying that, she fiddled with her fingers, as if searching for the right words.

“And… do you want to do music?”

“…Huh?”

“What you were doing earlier, Mom thought it was quite good…”

No, no, that’s not it. Myeong-jeon thought to himself. Objectively, it was just her daughter singing a song she’d never heard before – a song that probably predated Lee Hye-in’s birth.

To witness that and think, ‘Does my daughter have talent?’ meant she was completely blinded by parental bias.

“If Su-yeon wants to pursue music, Mom can help. At Mom’s work…”

“No, it’s not like that.”

Taking his silence as agreement, the conversation progressed in a direction he didn’t want. Myeong-jeon firmly interrupted the forceful push.

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

“B-But, even some lessons or something…”

“No, I really don’t need it.”

At his words, Lee Hye-in looked slightly deflated. Seeing her expression, Myeong-jeon sighed inwardly.

‘Is she a child…?’

People her age used to be much more mature. Had the world changed? Well, it was an era where people got married and had children in their forties, and thirty-somethings appeared on TV acting cute.

“Still, I’m glad you found a new hobby!”

“Huh?”

Well, it was a hobby, but… He looked at her as if asking what she meant, and Lee Hye-in’s expression deflated again. Thinking that communication was impossible, he sighed inwardly once more.

‘And here I am, speaking formally to this child…’

Myeong-jeon thought he needed to properly establish their relationship someday.

The doctor had advised waiting a week to see if any negative side effects appeared. Thanks to that, Myeong-jeon was able to postpone his return to school by a week.

And he also gained time to check on his old apartment and his equipment.

“You’re going to buy a guitar?”

After being caught air-guitaring at home, Myeong-jeon told his ‘mother’ that he wanted to buy a guitar. There was no reason to hide the fact that he played music, and even if he tried, it would eventually be discovered.

If there was nothing left at his old place – which was highly likely – he would need to buy an instrument, so he’d secured the money from Lee Hye-in after that awkward conversation. He’d even said, “I checked, and decent instruments cost over a million won…” fearing she’d give him too little, but he received over two million won.

‘This should be enough to get some decent, affordable equipment.’

He wouldn’t be able to acquire all his old gear. It wasn’t just a matter of money, but also rarity. He owned equipment so rare that there were only a few in the world, let alone Korea, so replicating his old setup would require a Herculean effort.

‘I need to adapt. Adapt…’

Even if music was just a hobby, equipment still mattered. So, he’d buy affordable gear first, then gradually build up his collection by doing session work. That way, he could eventually put together a decent setup.

Lost in thought, he arrived at his old neighborhood. It felt strangely unfamiliar, even though it had only been a few days.

Nothing had changed.

What had changed, well… probably his perspective. He was almost a foot shorter now. Many other things had changed as well, but since this wasn’t the era of measuring miniskirt lengths, he didn’t have to worry about a girl wandering around outside.

He walked through the alleyways to his old building. A typical multi-family dwelling in the old part of town, with the first floor partially submerged like a semi-basement. His apartment was on the fourth floor.

Climbing the stairs, which seemed more challenging now, he arrived slightly breathless at apartment 403. The landlady was standing there.

“…Are you here to see the apartment?”

Myeong-jeon froze. Had she already listed it? He’d hoped for a chance to look inside.

“Uh… no. I…”

“Yes?”

“I… know the person who lived here… that man” – calling someone his age a ‘man’ felt strange, but as long as she understood – “and we lost contact, so I came to check on him.”

“Oh… really? But he’s dead.”

“Huh???”

The old woman said it casually, as if it were none of her business. Feigning surprise, Myeong-jeon asked how he died.

“Well, he had some pre-existing conditions. He collapsed and died on the street somewhere, I heard. They couldn’t even hold a proper funeral. The apartment was full of junk. Cleaning it out cost me a fortune, honestly.”

‘This crazy woman… She probably pocketed the deposit, and she’s complaining about cleaning the place?’

Swallowing his words, Myeong-jeon spoke.

“Is… is there anything left? I was supposed to buy a guitar from him.”

“A guitar… hmm, you mean something like this?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

He nodded at her vague gesture, and the old woman beckoned him to follow.

“If I remember correctly, this is the only thing left of his belongings. He had it with him when he died. The police gave it to me.”

And there it was, his guitar. All black except for the neck, a ’69 Strat replica with a short tremolo arm and Seymour Duncan pickups. The very same guitar.

“Yes, I was supposed to buy this.”

The old woman’s face brightened slightly. As expected, there was never a chance of her just giving it to him, Myeong-jeon thought. It was his guitar, but he couldn’t prove it. If he said, ‘I’m actually Seo Myeong-jeon, and I came back to life in this body to get my guitar,’ she’d think he was crazy.

He could probably intimidate her or threaten to expose her tax evasion, but that would only create resentment and risk revealing that he wasn’t actually Ha Su-yeon. He couldn’t take that risk.

“Hmm… I don’t know much about guitars… but he cherished this one. He used to play it for me sometimes.”

The old woman lied without batting an eye.

“I don’t have much money…”

Myeong-jeon countered.

“Oh, and do I look rich? I’ll sell it to someone with money…”

“I’m a student…”

“Oh, a student with their whole life ahead of them. Why worry?”

“He promised to sell it to me cheap…”

Myeong-jeon and the old woman held their ground, engaging in a battle of nerves, probing each other.

Nowadays, everything had price tags, but back in his day, the better you haggled, the cheaper you could buy things. Having lived through those times, Myeong-jeon was confident in this.

“So, how much will you give me for it?”

After several minutes of tedious back-and-forth, with comments about how healthy he looked and how he didn’t really need the guitar, the old woman finally made her move.

“I’m a student, so I don’t have much money. Would 400,000 won be enough?”

The old woman scoffed.

“400,000 won won’t cut it. Even if I took it to a pawn shop, it’d be worth more…”

“But I was supposed to buy it from him. And you didn’t say you were close to him…”

“Not close? I saw his face all the time.”

The landlady lied through her teeth. But Myeong-jeon could do the same. Moreover, this was his story.

“I came here often to learn guitar from him… He never mentioned anything like that. In fact, he said the landlady…”

“Oh my~ Such a suspicious student. How about 500,000 won?”

But Myeong-jeon remained firm.

“I only have 400,000 won in cash right now. I’d have to talk to my parents, and they’re lawyers, so…”

“…Fine! Take it and make soup with it, I don’t care!”

A hastily fabricated lie, but effective on older people. The old woman practically threw the guitar case at him. He handed her the 400,000 won, which she quickly counted, and then the door slammed shut.

After staring at the door for a moment, Myeong-jeon lifted the case… and was surprised by its unexpected weight.

‘I would’ve carried this easily in my old body…’

He wanted to go inside his old apartment, but the landlady had seen him, and since the place was listed, there was probably nothing left inside. Reluctantly, he turned away.

A few minutes later, Myeong-jeon sat in a plaza near the subway station and took out the guitar. He was overcome with emotion, holding the instrument he thought he’d never see again.

He’d bought this guitar about fifteen years ago. Since then, he’d carried it everywhere unless a client requested a different one.

It wasn’t that long compared to his age… but he was attached to it. It was his favorite guitarist’s signature model.

Myeong-jeon lifted the guitar and slung it over his shoulder. As he’d imagined yesterday, he couldn’t play properly unless it rested on his stomach, due to his smaller size.

If it were an acoustic guitar, he would’ve started jamming right away. He could technically play the electric guitar like this, but without a body or soundhole to resonate the sound, it wouldn’t be proper.

‘It’s a shame… I want to play it now that I have it.’

Rummaging through the case, two effects pedals rolled out: a Dallas Arbiter Fuzz Face and a Vox Wah pedal. Not his usual pedals, but famous ones he’d bought because he wanted to own them.

‘Why are these here?’

He paused, holding the pedals. He hadn’t used them during the CCM session…

Well, whatever. Two free pedals, that was good enough.

Thinking that these two would suffice for most playing situations, Myeong-jeon opened his phone and navigated to Mule, the online music community he frequented.

[Is there anyone available for a guitar busking gig right now?]

We were supposed to play in Hongdae today, but our guitarist had an emergency and can’t make it.

We can wait for about 30 minutes.

A perfect post appeared before him.

• If I leave now, I can be there in about 30 minutes. Can I come?

Hongdae Busking Zone. Two men were setting up a drum kit and a bass amp amidst the bustling crowd.

“Are you sure that person is reliable?”

“He’s been active for over ten years. I saw him posting regularly. I haven’t seen him play live, but he should be fine… and what if he’s not? We’ll just wait a bit and go home.”

Jae-shin replied to his younger friend’s anxious question. He didn’t think someone with over ten years of online activity would prank them by offering to busk and then not showing up.

“Ugh… why did that guy suddenly cancel?”

“He got injured, what can we do?”

While Jae-shin accepted the situation, his friend continued to grumble. It was their weekly performance, and they had a small following… it was understandable that he was annoyed by the sudden change of plans.

“It’s time…”

Time passed, and they finally finished setting up the Fender amp they’d lugged there. People started gathering, anticipating the start of the performance.

But the guitarist didn’t arrive.

“Did we get catfished?”

“Let’s wait a little longer.”

Just as Jae-shin, also feeling uneasy, said those words… A figure carrying a guitar appeared in the distance.

“Hey, Hyung-tae, I think that’s them.”

“Oh… I don’t think so? That’s a girl.”

“…Yeah. Did we actually get catfished?”

They’d started checking their instruments in anticipation, but put them down again. The audience, wondering when the performance would start, began to disperse.

“I saw your post on Mule. The busking gig. Is this it?”

The voice belonged to the person carrying the guitar. A young woman, probably a freshman in college at most, pretty enough to make heads turn as she walked down the street.

“…Huh?”

“Are… are… you the one who posted? The one who replied to my comment on Mule?”

Jae-shin and Hyung-tae stammered, their minds momentarily blank.

“Yes, I am. Is there a problem?”

Seeing their dumbfounded expressions, the girl raised an eyebrow.