Meeting Yoonjung Again

Although what Professor Kim Minsoo said made sense—at least from his position—Jihoon couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it.

Maybe the professor was subtly hinting at something else… a quiet warning hidden behind his calm demeanor.

A reminder of the unspoken rules.

Whether Kim Minsoo wanted to be involved or not, Jihoon could tell he was trying to help.

Not as a faculty member bowing to pressure, but as a teacher who genuinely cared.

That mattered to Jihoon. It was why, despite everything swirling in his mind, he didn't refute the suggestion.

"I believe you can handle this matter yourself," Professor Kim said gently, sliding a thin folder across the desk.

Jihoon looked down. It was the application form for Seoul National University Anniversary Performance Showcase.

"If you're interested," Professor Kim continued, "they're accepting student submissions. It's a performance-based event. You could contribute a song, maybe even play it live. Given your talent in songwriting… why not give it a try?"

Jihoon hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, teacher. I understand. I'll do my best."

Kim gave a slight smile, but his tone shifted into something more serious—more instructional.

"There's a difference between the songs you perform live and the ones you produce in the studio. You know that, right?"

Jihoon straightened slightly in his seat, listening closely.

"People perceive sound differently depending on frequency—even if the decibel level is the same. A studio recording flattens and sanitizes."

"You lose texture. You lose overtone structure. But a live performance… it's raw. Resonant. It hits people in the chest, not just the ears."

Kim gestured lightly with his hand, as if drawing invisible sound waves in the air.

"Each instrument's timbre and character—those are shaped by the overtones. The hall's acoustics, the shape of the room, the reverb… it all matters. You'll need to factor that in when you compose."

He spoke with the quiet passion of someone who had spent decades not just teaching music, but absorbing it.

Kim Minsoo might have been an arts professor—not a professional composer—but he had the eyes and ears of someone who had seen enough musical stages to know what truly moved an audience.

Jihoon listened carefully, even jotting a few things down on his phone.

This wasn't something he had studied before—not in this life, and not in his last. His past knowledge had mostly been technical and focused on filmmaking; music had always been just a tool to him.

But this? This was unfamiliar territory.

And truth be told, it didn't feel like what he had always assumed it would be.

Was it relevant to his goals? Maybe but not directly.

But Jihoon had no intention of making waves just yet. Disrupting the system would come in time.

For now, he was content to let the current carry him.

Besides, going along with it kept the spotlight off his back. It numbed the attention of those who might otherwise grow suspicious or hostile.

And more importantly—it shielded Kim Minsoo.

Because in all the tangled webs of ambition and veiled motives Jihoon had encountered since waking up in this new life, Kim Minsoo stood out.

He wasn't trying to manipulate, leverage, or trap him. He simply wanted to teach.

And Jihoon respected that. Deeply.

He hoped his professor could stay that way—untainted by the power games swirling just outside the classroom walls.

So if one performance was the price to protect that rare kind of person, then he would gladly pay it.

"I see," Jihoon said, lifting his head.

"Lately, I've been exploring ways to blend classical and pop elements. I think I'll try composing something in that style for the anniversary ceremony—but to be honest, it might be a bit challenging."

Kim Minsoo's eyes lit up with interest. "That's a great idea," he said warmly. "For someone your age, that kind of creativity is exactly what the industry needs, Jihoon-ah."

"Even though we're part of the film department, I'm well aware that the university's music division is still pretty divided—classical on one side, pop on the other."

He leaned forward slightly, more animated now. "But if you really follow through with this, it might pave a new path—maybe even spark a new academic focus for the school in the future."

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Tell me where you're stuck. Maybe I can help."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "I need a cellist. Someone good—not just technically skilled, but with a real understanding of classical music."

"We'll be performing together, so the chemistry has to be there."

"If this were a professional event, I could ask Uncle Lee to introduce someone. But since it's a school event, I'd prefer to work with a fellow student."

Minsoo tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, thoughtful.

His eyes drifted upward as if scrolling through an invisible roster in his mind.

Then, as though settling on a name, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Yoonjung-ah, if you're free, come to my office for a moment," he said. Then he hung up.

He turned to Jihoon with a knowing look. "She's a bit cold, but incredibly talented. Transferred to the arts faculty this year. Before this, she studied at Juilliard in New York."

Jihoon blinked, slightly impressed.

"If I hadn't already taken you in, I probably would've chosen her as my apprentice," Minsoo added with a chuckle. "She's the most gifted student I've seen since you."

Jihoon nodded slowly, but something in his chest stirred. The name Professor Kim had just spoken with…

Yoonjung.

It sounded familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.

A flicker of memory scratched at the edge of his mind—like a word you couldn't quite remember, a face blurred behind glass.

He couldn't place it, but he knew he had heard that name before. Somewhere important.

Before he could dig deeper, a soft knock echoed at the office door.

"Come in," Minsoo called.

The door creaked open, and the girl who stepped through bowed politely before looking up.

Jihoon turned to greet her—and froze.

Her smile was warm, bright, even charming. But Jihoon didn't smile back. Not because she was unpleasant, or unfamiliar.

Quite the opposite.

Because the girl standing in front of him, the one Professor Kim had just praised as a prodigy of classical music, was someone he had met once before. In a very different context.

Loen Entertainment. Before he flew to the States.

Choi Yoonjung.

The heiress to the SK Group family.

And now, here she was, at the same university, standing before him with anticipation in her eyes.

"Hey, Jihoon," she said, flashing that same smile he remembered. "Nice to see you again."

There was anticipation in her voice—and something else. Admiration, maybe. Recognition.

Jihoon's lips parted, but no words came out.

So much for flying under the radar.

[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, JiangXiu, OS_PARCEIROS, Daoistadj and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]