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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Entrance Ceremony Morning
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I lost my words at the unbelievable sight before me.
"You woke up right on time. Come eat, put down the spoon, son."
"Father…?"
It wasn't a dream.
My father slowly turned toward me with a puzzled look at my call.
The sight of him felt as unreal as slow motion.
"…What are you doing? Come put down the spoon...."
"Father…!!"
I called out to him and rushed into the kitchen, throwing my arms around my father who was scooping rice.
Thanks to that, clumps of rice stuck to his clothes from the ladle.
But I didn't care.
I buried my face deeper into his embrace to hide the tears welling up.
"You punk, what's wrong with you! First thing in the morning...."
My father had never appeared in my dreams, not once since he passed.
I couldn't hold back the rising tears anymore, so I headed to my room and firmly shut the door.
"You, Lee Do-hyun! Aren't you coming out?"
My father's flustered voice came from beyond the door.
He looked exactly as he did in my old memories.
'I must've been really stressed…. Dad's even showing up in my dreams.'
Not believing it, I pinched my cheek, and it hurt.
'Huh?'
Now that I looked around, the room felt somehow unfamiliar.
An old-style computer, outdated clothes, and the smartphone on the desk was an ancient model.
This was the kind I'd used over ten years ago.
I picked up the phone and checked the date.
March 2, 2015.
What the hell was going on?
Just then, my father cautiously opened the door and poked his head in.
"Son. You okay? Were you tossing and turning from nerves?"
My reaction must've been totally weird.
His initial fluster gone, he looked at me with a worried face and asked.
Suddenly, tears poured out.
I tried to hold them back, but I couldn't.
Was this situation real? It couldn't be a dream, right?
Without thinking, I went to the door and caressed my father's face.
"W-what? What's with you? You're being creepy."
Startled by me silently shedding tears, my father backed away little by little.
Before we knew it, the two of us had moved to the living room.
I saw my mother, who had gone out to the veranda to get kimchi, freeze at the sight of us.
My mother was coming in on perfectly healthy legs.
She stood there on two sound legs, looking at us both with bewilderment.
I rushed to her and hugged her tightly too.
"Mother…!"
"Mother…? Son! What's gotten into you this morning…?"
After Father passed, Mother's health had deteriorated rapidly from all her hardships.
To see her walking steadily on two legs again like this.
I couldn't even answer, just clung to her embrace and cried like a child.
Mother, bewildered but stroking my back anyway, shot a glance at Father.
"Did you yell at him or something? Why's he like this first thing in the morning?"
"What? I just told him to come put down the spoon!"
Seeing Father protest indignantly, it finally sank in.
It was real. I'd come back.
"Ahem."
"...."
"Ahem,"
Still unable to tell if it was a dream or reality, I alternated stares between my parents' faces while barely touching my breakfast.
The food wouldn't go down properly.
Father, uncomfortable under my intense gaze, cleared his throat and buried his face in his soup bowl.
Then, as if he couldn't take it anymore, Father suddenly lifted his head.
"This punk, are you seriously freaking out like this?"
What was that supposed to mean?
Freaking out about what?
I tilted my head at his incomprehensible words, and Father got annoyed again at my stare.
Ah, that was the face he made when he was embarrassed.
Yeah, he used to make that expression.
Lost in memories, Father's thunderous voice hit me.
"What, how great is this school that you're freaking out from entrance ceremony day? My son's not just some average guy, right?"
Entrance ceremony…? No way.
"Right-! Cheongyeom Arts High, our son'll be the top and the best-looking there too. Yeah?"
That's when the phone screen showing March 2nd flashed in my mind.
Had it been too long since graduation?
Even seeing the date hadn't clicked, but Father's words nearly made me drop my spoon.
I'd regressed to the entrance ceremony day at Cheongyeom Arts High—the real start of my musical life.
***
After barely finishing breakfast, I went to my room at my parents' urging to get ready for school.
Cheongyeom Arts High's uniform lay neatly ironed and folded on the bed.
Who'd have thought I'd wear this again.
I turned my gaze to the mirror and examined myself.
In just my underwear, my body was definitely that of a 17-year-old.
A slender build with barely any muscle, a youthful frame.
And a throat that felt pristine, without a speck of dust.
The 17-year-old me from my memories stared straight back.
'Entrance ceremony, huh.'
I couldn't believe it, but the scene before me and my parents proved it was real.
It felt too vividly real to be a dream.
'Did I really come back? To seventeen…?'
What I'd pieced together so far.
I'd returned to March 2, 2015.
Today was the Cheongyeom Arts High entrance ceremony, and I had to put on that uniform and head to school.
In this hard-to-accept situation, one thought filled my mind.
"Vocal cord nodules?"
My throat's condition right now.
When I woke up, it had felt clean.
I carefully warmed up my mouth and instinctively ran through scales.
Up to the octave I could hit at 33.
"Ah…!"
No straight tone would come out.
Untrained, my breathing was a mess, and the sound kept breaking.
I imagined the flat transverse abdominis muscles and moved around trying to engage them.
After loosening my throat several times, I slowly sang a phrase.
"Today this moment…"
I stopped in shock.
The tone wasn't satisfactory yet, and the volume was lower than at 33.
But I was stunned by the definitely different timbre.
A clean voice without any rasp at the edges.
I couldn't help but marvel. Had my voice always been this good?
'What the hell did I do to my throat?'
In the past—no, the future.
The days after the vocal cord nodules diagnosis had been pure agony.
What came to mind was the vocal training that had been wrong from one to ten.
That technique conveyed emotion well in the lows, but it was artificially trained, not my natural timbre.
But now, in this fresh 17-year-old body, it was different.
From the first note, it gripped the eardrums.
Familiar yet unfamiliar, a voice full of appeal.
Grasping my trembling heart, I continued the song.
"Today here— this moment I so desperately wished for…"
The song went on smoothly.
The unfamiliar voice made my ears itch.
Even though I was singing it, it felt like listening through someone else's ears.
Adapting to my 17-year-old voice, I progressed phrase by phrase.
But I had to stop at the climax.
The timbre had improved, sure, but I'd always had weak vocal cords.
Plus, my untrained 17-year-old throat lacked the supporting muscles and stamina to hit high notes stably.
In this frail state, I couldn't even use falsetto, so I decided not to push it.
No room for a second mistake.
"As expected of my son. Yep. Gotta practice even on entrance ceremony morning to conquer Cheongyeom."
Father had heard me singing from outside and came into the room.
"Son, you all ready…?"
Beaming as he opened the door, Father trailed off.
I was still in my underwear, hands raised high, immersed in practice.
Under his gaze, I silently lowered my hands and hurriedly put on the uniform.
***
"You okay…?"
Father glanced at me as he drove and spoke up.
My earlier underwear serenade must've shocked him.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
As I started to reply, I noticed Father's cigarette.
Thinking of him suffering from lung cancer before he passed, I wanted to hurl it out the window right then.
But doing that wouldn't make him quit on the spot.
Considering how he'd struggled for me when I insisted on arts high school, tears threatened again.
But I had to hold back.
So he wouldn't worry.
"Why're you talking like that? Father, Mother. You're not 17, feels like I got a 35-year-old son."
Father eyed me suspiciously again.
I chose silence.
Just stared out the window without reacting.
Nothing to explain.
That I was really a 33-year-old son?
That I was trying to be filial now?
No way, with his temper, I'd get a solid whack on the head.
"I'll drop you here, go on in."
Right, Father always dropped me off a bit away from school so I wouldn't be embarrassed.
Arts high kids with pricey tuition rolled up in luxury imports.
He probably thought his own beat-up car was nothing by comparison.
Pre-regression, knowing that, I'd just gotten out there anyway.
"I'm sorry, Father."
There were so many things I'd wanted to say after he passed.
Where'd all those words go?
In every situation, "sorry" was all I had left.
Was there ever a day I resented my lack of eloquence more than today?
"You punk. What're you sorry for? Get out already."
Father clearly misunderstood.
Thought I was sorry for being embarrassed by his car.
What to do.
After a moment's thought, I spoke.
"Since you're here, drop me at the main gate."
"What?"
Time to say it clearly.
"Drop me at the main gate. Walking's a hassle."
I couldn't carelessly say his car wasn't embarrassing.
I'd lived long enough now to understand how he'd feel hearing that.
"Ahem. Alright?"
Father's face shifted subtly.
From his expression, I knew.
He got the meaning behind my words, even without me saying it outright.
The corner of his mouth twitched up—he seemed pleased inside.
"Feels good having you drop me off, Father."
Instead of answering, Father shifted gears.
His eyes looked a bit red—maybe he was choked up.
We reached the main gate quickly.
[☆Congratulations on Entering Cheongyeom Arts High School☆]
A flashy banner fluttered at the entrance.
"Don't be nervous. You'll do great."
"Nothing much happening today anyway."
Father, looking more tense after I added that, made me respond without thinking as I got out.
Stepping down from the car, I added one more thing.
"Father."
"Yeah."
"Cut back on the smokes. Time to think about your health."
"Ha ha. Since when do you worry about my health? I'm fine!"
Father just laughed and waved.
Watching his car drive away, I turned.
Cheongyeom Arts High entrance ceremony.
Cheongyeom Arts High kicked off the arts festival right after the ceremony.
The path to school buzzed with energy.
Music poured from the entrance, and students rushed around campus finishing festival prep.
Returning to the school after so long, new emotions surged.
'Wow. Was it this amazing?'
It was an incredible school.
A high school campus on this scale—even most universities couldn't compare.
The vast grounds had paths leading straight to the large, medium, and small theaters from the main gate.
Magnificent trees lined both sides, cherry blossoms blooming modestly to herald spring.
Admiring them as I walked, I spotted a building and stopped without realizing.
'Cheongyeom Arts High Grand Theater.'
The grand theater, state-of-the-art enough for Cheongyeom Foundation productions a few times a year, was massive.
School buildings stood beside and behind the theaters—red-brick structures that looked stately even from afar.
"Starting over, huh."
I'd gotten the chance to do everything again.
A spotless 17-year-old voice and 16 years of foresight.
With this, I could become an actor whose name rang bells, even if not the world's best.
"Let's do it."
I walked slowly, purposefully toward the stage where my dream would unfold again.