The practice rooms at Seolwon Arts High are the best in the country. Not just among art schools—among all the places I've practiced in my life, they rank near the very top.
They were still the same.
A strange sense of nostalgia washed over me as I looked around the room. In my previous life, I had practically lived here. For all three years, unless the school was closed, I spent most of my time in these practice rooms.
"Hmm. The facilities are decent."
Kim Taeyoung, meanwhile, looked unimpressed.
Considering he'd grown up as a piano prodigy using elite facilities overseas, it made sense that this wouldn't amaze him.
"Oh. There's a piano too."
Taeyoung noticed it and walked over. He gently ran his fingers across the keys, his expression tinged with an odd sense of longing.
To be honest, it wasn't even that great of a piano. It wasn't top-tier, and it wasn't in perfect condition.
But it was good enough.
Taeyoung pressed a key carefully.
The tuning's fine, I thought.
After a brief pause, he began to play in earnest.
His fingers moved with dazzling speed. Notes flowed together into a melody that filled the practice room.
I froze.
He wasn't just good. This was the level of someone recognized worldwide.
How did someone like this quit piano to become a singer?
His playing felt healing. Just listening to it calmed the heart.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
Barely a minute had passed—maybe less. But that short performance left me wanting more.
"Haven't played in a while, so I'm rusty. Hahaha."
Scratching his head awkwardly, Taeyoung let out a fake cough and grinned at me.
"Well, since you heard me play, you should play something too."
"Huh?"
"It's only fair. I can't be the only one performing."
…He wanted me to play after that?
No way.
Even though I'd been taking piano lessons from Seongmin, compared to Taeyoung, I was doing child's play.
"I'd rather die."
Not a joke. I would die of embarrassment.
"Then it doesn't have to be piano. Just play something."
For some reason, Taeyoung was weirdly persistent.
I never asked him to play in the first place. He played on his own.
Grumbling under my breath, I looked around the room. Then I spotted the instrument I wanted and picked it up.
An acoustic guitar.
The instrument I was most confident with at the moment.
Of course, I couldn't compare to actual guitar majors. But thanks to Seongmin's consistent lessons, I'd at least reached an above-average level.
Taeyoung watched me with curiosity as I adjusted my posture and tuned the guitar.
Ignoring his gaze, I focused.
Then I began to play.
SWIPE.
The song that had received the best evaluation among my works. The first song I composed in this life—and the one I'd practiced the most.
Taeyoung stared at me.
My posture was stable. My fingers moved quickly. Soon, the melody flowed out.
Taeyoung closed his eyes and began to savor the sound.
It was a calm acoustic performance, but the melody itself was anything but calm. Listening to it stirred emotions deep inside.
SWIPE was the song I wrote when my inferiority complex was at its peak.
Why do other people's songs become meaningful to someone, while mine are always dismissed so easily?
And in the end, you'll just swipe past this song too.
That was why the title was SWIPE—like skipping a song on a touchscreen.
What the—
Taeyoung couldn't hold it in and opened his eyes.
Was this really a high schooler?
How could someone this young carry emotions this heavy, this sticky? It was almost hard to listen to—too heavy.
Should he tell me to stop?
As he hesitated, the performance suddenly changed.
More precisely, the mood changed.
The dark, muddy atmosphere flipped instantly into something confident. The melody became easier to listen to, overflowing with self-assurance.
What is this?
Taeyoung looked confused.
How could someone flip like this within the same song? Or did the song change?
No—it hadn't. I was still playing the same piece.
Regardless of what Taeyoung thought, I continued with full focus.
This was the rearranged version of SWIPE.
I hadn't finished the full arrangement yet, so I mixed parts of both versions together.
I had already given up on becoming a singer.
In this life, I chose to live for my genius sister.
So I rewrote my songs completely, tailoring them for her overwhelming talent.
As a result, SWIPE changed from "You'll skip this song anyway" to "Once you hear this, you'll skip every other song except this one."
Confidence overflowed through every note.
I finished playing and set the guitar down, then looked at Taeyoung.
"How was it?"
"…You wrote that?"
"Yeah. It's still unfinished, though."
I smiled lightly.
But Taeyoung couldn't smile.
Until now, I'd just been some random kid sitting next to him. Someone who didn't seem particularly interested in him—which he'd actually liked.
He had zero expectations for Seolwon Arts. Sure, it was full of talent, but to someone like Kim Taeyoung, who had lived among the geniuses of geniuses, it was nothing special.
But now, everything had changed.
To think someone like this was in the same year as him…
Interesting.
Taeyoung clenched his fist. His left hand trembled slightly.
§ §
The first day of classes ended.
In my past life, nothing special happened on the first day. Today, a lot did.
First, I switched majors—from vocal to composition. There was no turning back now. Not that I ever planned to.
Second, I formed a connection with Kim Taeyoung. That was unexpected.
In my past life, we were nothing more than classmates. This time, we talked a lot on the very first day.
Taeyoung kept speaking to me with genuine interest written all over his face.
"A good thing is a good thing."
In the future, Taeyoung becomes a world-famous singer. Being friends with someone like that could only help.
…Though he talks way too much. That part is exhausting.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back!"
The moment I opened the door, Suyeon greeted me. Her hair was a mess—she must've just woken up.
Laughing, I asked, "Were you sleeping?"
"Yeah. I was tired."
She rubbed her eyes, then looked at me curiously.
"How was school?"
"Just normal."
"Did you make any friends?"
"What are you, my mom?"
I clicked my tongue and went to my room to change into comfortable clothes.
Suyeon, sitting on the sofa, pouted.
"I was worried you'd be alone again. You hardly had any friends in middle school."
"Well, that's because…"
I stopped.
A wave of embarrassing memories hit me.
Back then, I thought I was special. I believed I was a genius, different from ordinary people, and deliberately kept my distance.
Classic chuunibyou.
"I was just busy singing back then. I have a friend now."
…Why am I making excuses at my age?
I felt pathetic.
But Suyeon's face lit up instantly.
"What kind of person?"
"A guy who plays piano."
Not a lie. He does play piano. I just didn't mention the world-class part.
"What about you?"
"Me? Same as always."
Suyeon started chattering away—about her seatmate, her best friend being in a different class, the new friends she made.
"Oh! And there's a girl in my class who was preparing for Seolwon Arts! She's short and really cute. I think she's an idol trainee."
"Yeah?"
"Mm! And when I mentioned you, she got curious."
I nodded.
She talked for a long while. All trivial things. Everyday stories.
But I liked it.
"I wish Saturday would come sooner…" Suyeon murmured excitedly.
This Saturday would be her first recording session. She would sing to the melody I composed.
"Same here."
I couldn't wait to find out.
How would Suyeon interpret the song I wrote?
Just thinking about it made my chest tighten with anticipation.
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