From the day after I clicked the "Apply for Lessons" button, my entire week was filled with a subtle tension.
Like a rookie employee on the eve of his first day at work, excitement and fear tangled together inside me.
During the day, I still buried myself in economic studies at the library.
But whenever my eyes caught the words "swing dance" in the corner of a newspaper, my gaze would linger there without me even realizing it.
Newspapers in 2007 were oddly fond of covering swing dance clubs in their culture sections.
Headlines like "A New Place to Build Connections" or "The Ultimate Stress Relief for Office Workers"—cringe-worthy titles that still stood out.
At night, visiting the Enjoy Swing café became a new habit.
I studied the expressions in the photos uploaded to the Photo Gallery, and skimmed the posts in the Free Board, trying to get a sense of their culture.
They all called one another by nicknames rather than real names.
"Charlie hyung," "Ginger noona," "Eric," "Suzy Q."
It felt like a secret code belonging to a world entirely their own.
I caught myself imagining how my nickname—Sseokhofil—would sound when spoken among them, and felt my face grow warm.
I should've just gone with Park Cheolmin…
The regret came too late. Spilled water couldn't be gathered back up.
Time slipped by mercilessly, and before I knew it, Saturday—the decisive day—had arrived.
I started fussing around a full three hours before the scheduled time.
I showered, then pulled out the same clothes I'd worn on my recent blind date.
They were the only real "going-out clothes" I owned at the moment.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, fussing with my hair.
Thinking I'd used too much wax, I washed it again—then dried it, styled it, and reapplied wax. Twice.
To my forty-nine-year-old self, my thirty-one-year-old body looked young and painfully clumsy.
My heart pounded the entire subway ride to Sillim Station.
Should I just not go?
That devilish whisper tempted me again and again.
But I shook my head.
I had already declared a break from my past.
If I backed out now, I'd turn back into the same Park Cheolmin who lived on nothing but regret.
The moment I exited Sillim Station, a lively atmosphere—different from Hongdae's—washed over me.
Street vendors advertising Sundae Town, cheap clothing shops, and crowds of young people everywhere.
Following the directions sent by the club, I walked deeper into a narrow alley.
Basement level one of an old building.
At the entrance, a faintly glowing neon sign read:
"Live Jazz & Swing Dance, Boogie Woogie."
I hesitated at the stairs.
The steps leading underground felt like an entrance into a new world—dark, unfamiliar.
No sound drifted up from below yet.
I swallowed dryly and finally took my first step down.
#002
When I opened the door to Boogie Woogie, a still-quiet interior came into view.
The space was larger than I'd expected. One wall was entirely mirrored; on the other side sat a small bar and several tables.
The lights were still bright, giving it more the feel of a practice studio than a nighttime venue.
The smell of sweat, old wooden floors, and the excited energy of those who had arrived early mingled together.
As I stood awkwardly near the entrance, a man approached me with a bright smile.
"Hello! First time here, right? You're part of the 26th intake, yeah?"
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with an easygoing, cheerful face.
"Ah, yes. That's right."
"Glad you came! I'm Charlie, the instructor for the 26th class. What's your nickname?"
"I… um. Sseokhofil."
I answered in a voice barely louder than an ant's.
For about 0.1 seconds, a flicker of confusion crossed his face when he heard my nickname.
But like the professional he was, he immediately smiled and grabbed my hand.
"Ah, Sseokhofil-nim! Nice to meet you! That's a very unique nickname! Haha! You must like Prison Break, right?"
"Huh? Ah—yes… kind of."
"Great choice, Seokhofil! Lots of people here love American dramas. You came to the right place!"
His exaggerated laughter drew the attention of a few nearby people.
I felt my face burn and lowered my head.
Charlie led me toward a corner.
Several other newcomers were gathered there, wearing expressions just as awkward as mine.
They all looked to be in their mid-to-late twenties—fresh faces. At thirty-one, I was probably the oldest among them.
Soon, class time arrived.
Charlie and a female instructor who introduced herself as Ginger stood before us.
"Alright, everyone! Welcome to Enjoy Swing, 26th class!"
Loud applause erupted.
After a light stretch, we began the painfully awkward self-introductions.
"I'm twenty-five! Nickname's Sunshine! Nice to meet you!"
"I'm Ryan, twenty-eight, programmer!"
Students, nurses, programmers.
A variety of people introduced themselves with bright voices.
When it was my turn, I tried my best to sound casual.
"Hello, I'm Sseokhofil. Nice to meet you."
Small bursts of laughter broke out.
I wanted to die.
#003
Once the awkward introductions ended, the real lesson finally began.
The first step was the Rock Step.
One step back, one step forward—shifting your weight like a roly-poly toy. The most basic movement in swing dance.
"Alright, let's try it with the music! Five, six, seven, eight! Rock—step!"
Following Charlie's count, we awkwardly swayed.
It was supposed to be simple, but my body moved like a rusted machine.
My forty-nine-year-old soul couldn't properly control my thirty-one-year-old body.
Next came the Triple Step.
Thump-tap-tap, thump-tap-tap.
Three steps packed into two beats.
I stole glances at other people's feet, desperately trying to follow along.
But my feet tangled constantly, and I kept missing the beat.
"Alright, now we'll try with partners! Followers, make a circle! Leaders, stand in front of them!"
At Ginger's words, I swallowed hard.
The moment had arrived.
I awkwardly met the eyes of the short-haired young woman standing before me.
Her nickname, I remembered from earlier, was Suzy.
"Hello."
"Yes, hello… Sseokhofil-nim."
Hearing my nickname made my face heat up again.
We exchanged awkward greetings—and even more awkwardly, held hands.
The moment her small, soft hand touched my sweaty palm, I felt all the blood rush to my face.
"Alright, leaders hold with your left hand, followers with your right—lightly…"
Following Charlie's instructions, we prepared to dance.
The music started, and I began stepping through the rock step and triple step as taught.
But dancing with a partner was ten times harder than dancing alone.
I stepped on her feet again and again.
Each time, she let out a small yelp.
"I—I'm sorry."
"It's okay! Everyone's like that at first."
She smiled like an angel—but I could read the deep irritation hiding behind it.
I was, without question, the worst partner imaginable.
#004
The ninety-minute lesson felt like ten years.
"Alright! That's it for today! Great job, everyone!"
The moment Charlie finished speaking, I nearly collapsed onto the floor.
I was drenched in sweat, my mind completely shredded.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
Regret surged up.
Quietly gathering my things, I prepared to slip out unnoticed.
That was when Boogie Woogie's atmosphere changed in an instant.
The bright fluorescent lights went dark, replaced by mirror balls and soft ambient lighting.
The practice music stopped, and rich, lively jazz blasted from the professional speakers near the bar.
Beer and cocktails began flowing, and the smell of popcorn filled the space.
Then people started pouring down the stairs—laughing, chatting loudly.
Veteran members, clearly experienced dancers, with relaxed expressions.
In moments, the once-empty room became packed.
The lesson had ended, and the space transformed into a full-blown social party.
Overwhelmed by the energy, I stood frozen in a corner, mouth hanging open.
The veterans casually invited each other to dance, flooding the floor with dazzling steps.
Movements far freer and flashier than anything we'd learned.
I watched in a daze.
Then Charlie grabbed the mic.
"Alright, everyone! Leaving now would be a shame, right? Let's review today's steps and have an after-party—right here!"
At the word "after-party," my fellow 26th class members cheered.
Not me.
Are they insane? How am I supposed to join that?
I shook my head and slowly backed away.
Socializing with strangers was even harder than dancing.
I almost made it to the door.
Almost.
"Uh—Sseokhofil-nim! Where are you going?"
It was Suzy—the short-haired partner whose feet I'd stepped on dozens of times.
At her voice, everyone turned to look at me.
Charlie, mic in hand, grinned mischievously.
"Hey, Sseokhofil-nim! You're not running away alone, are you? It's our 26th class's first after-party! The main character can't leave!"
Main character?
I was today's biggest joke—the worst dancer in the room.
I waved my hands awkwardly.
"No, it's just—I have something to—"
"Liar!"
Boos erupted from everywhere.
I stood there, helpless under their attention.
I wanted to run.
To escape back into the safe silence of the library.
But then, I remembered my wife in 2019.
The time she'd asked me to learn dancing together—and I'd brushed her off, saying I was tired.
I'd sworn I wouldn't live like that again.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Then, summoning the greatest courage of my life, I shouted:
"Alright! I'll stay! Happy now?!"
The room exploded with cheers.
Scratching my head awkwardly, I laughed along.
Suzy led me to the table where our 26th class was gathered.
Beer and simple snacks covered the table.
I crouched into the most corner seat, fidgeting with my glass.
Charlie raised his voice.
"Alright! To the bright future of our 26th class! Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Glasses clinked.
Blending into the crowd, forcing a smile, I raised my glass.
And like that, I took the real first step toward a new stage in my second life.