* * *

Whether it was fortunate or only to be expected, the live café remained as peaceful as ever after Moon Cheon-yeop’s visit.

Kim Seung-jun tried to persuade them a few more times, then left with his shoulders slumped. Once her shift ended, Eugene sang her heart out onstage. The customers enjoyed the show despite wishing Limon were there, and Mr. Jeong, delighted with the booming sales, packed up a generous helping of leftover cookies for her.

CRUNCH.

“Tastes like it’ll make me gain weight.”

In a park draped in gathering darkness, deserted at this late hour and far from any busy streets, Eugene sat on a bench munching one of Mr. Jeong’s cookies. “Still, it’s good.”

Sweet things were nice. They made her feel better, and after the stress Moon Cheon-yeop had caused her, this was exactly what she needed.

‘What a joke.’

Remembering Moon Cheon-yeop’s threats, Eugene let out a little chuckle.

She had wandered all over the world and met plenty of people. More than a few, like Kim Seung-jun and Moon Cheon-yeop, had recognized her talent and tried to use it. But none of them had gotten anything out of her.

Not the general with an army at his command. Not the gangster who had pointed a gun at her. Not the noble who boasted of his bloodline. Not the businessman who talked of profit. They had all failed; that was why Eugene was still a wandering musician.

So why should she care about nobodies like Moon Cheon-yeop and his WIM Guild? If anything, being unable to hear Limon play was doing far more to drive up her stress.

“Hmm. I feel frustrated.”

Perhaps thinking of Limon had brought it on. Though she had only just finished singing for hours, thirst welled up in her again. Eugene swallowed the rest of her cookie, reached to the side, and picked up her heavy guitar with a smile.

“If I’m not satisfied, I’ll just have to fix that.”

There was no proper stage in the quiet park, not even a microphone or a single audience member. Eugene leisurely prepared to sing anyway. Whether anyone listened, whether she had a partner to accompany her—it made no difference. She had always been a wanderer who sang alone, listened alone, and found satisfaction alone.

DING.

“...?”

But the moment she plucked a string, Eugene stopped. Tilting her head, she tried plucking it a few more times.

DING, DIIING, DI-DING.

“...???”

She tuned the guitar repeatedly and tried different notes, but the sound still struck her as wrong. Then it hit her.

“Oh.”

Eugene slapped her forehead with one hand and let out a soft sigh. The guitar didn’t sound terrible because it was broken. The problem was her.

“I’m screwed.”

After a brief chuckle, Eugene lay back on the bench. She no longer felt like singing. However frustrated she was, whatever she tried to play, she couldn’t help comparing it to the sound of Limon’s guitar.

“I can’t sing alone anymore.”

Of course, playing and singing were separate things. She could simply sing without accompaniment. But Eugene did not touch the guitar again. A gourmet accustomed to the finest delicacies would sooner die than dip moldy bread in worm soup. Eugene knew better than anyone that she had grown so used to singing along with Limon’s magnificent playing that she was already addicted.

So she put on her headphones.

DING, DI-RING.

The moment she pressed a button, a familiar melody filled her ears. Some student had recorded one of her performances with Limon without permission and spread the video around. Eugene smiled as she listened to a track containing only Limon’s music from that recording.

Like an addict reunited with a drug she had quit, or a traveler finding an oasis in the desert, she felt his rich soul seep into her through the melody. It brought her a thrill a hundred times greater than singing alone, along with a comfort beyond compare.

“If I’d known this would happen, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted his offer back then.”

If she hadn’t lent Limon her guitar when they first met, at least she wouldn’t have lost the ability to enjoy her own singing the way she once had.

“But I don’t regret it.”

Even so, Eugene smiled. She might no longer enjoy singing by herself, but the joy of singing to Limon’s playing was more wonderful than anything she had lost. If she had to choose between a tame pleasure and one that took her in and out of hell, she would choose the latter every time.

Her feelings about the man who had given her that hellish delight could be summed up in just two words.

‘Strange partner.’

Eugene was eccentric, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew how unusual she was. A singer who didn’t particularly want fame and went to extremes to avoid earning money from her songs could hardly be called normal. In fact, one major reason she had always worked alone was that few musicians would accommodate her quirks. There were other reasons, too. In any case, Limon was a truly unusual partner.

‘Why doesn’t he try to change me?’

In her travels, Eugene had occasionally met people who simply admired her talent rather than coveting it. Their reactions had always followed much the same pattern. First came admiration. Then regret that her talent was going to waste. Finally, for some reason, anger: with proper training and a debut, she could become a singer for the ages, yet she was squandering her gift.

That was what made Limon strange. His own complete lack of interest in fame or money was one thing, but he had never once tried to force his way of doing things on Eugene. Not when she had no money, and not when he saw her talent going to waste. He had never told her to earn money by singing or to develop her talent.

‘And yet he changed me in the end.’

When others had told Eugene to develop her talent, she had ignored them. The very idea that she ought to learn how to sing had never appealed to her. To learn something was to let it color you. Even if someone taught her to sing better, she would end up bound by what they taught her. She enjoyed singing, but she had never wanted to become better at it. To Eugene, vocal training would only add another shackle to her freedom.

And yet she had taken singing lessons from Mr. Jeong. In the end, it was because of Limon.

‘A partner who can’t keep up with her partner’s playing would be strange.’

If there was one thing Eugene was more sensitive to than anyone, it was music. She could tell Limon could play even better if he chose to, and that he was holding back for the sake of her singing, which lacked the fundamentals. That was why she had learned to sing for the first time. Even if it meant giving up some freedom. Even if it meant losing her own song. She hadn’t wanted to be a burden.

‘No, is that really it?’

Eugene tilted her head, then gave a wry smile. She knew better than anyone that she wasn’t so considerate. There was only one real reason: she simply wanted to hear Limon play without holding back, and to hear herself sing alongside him. For someone who had always enjoyed singing without caring about the song itself, it was a change of heart so enormous that she could scarcely believe it herself.

‘Though I still don’t know why someone that good says he doesn’t enjoy playing.’

The more Limon influenced her, the more keenly she felt the question. If he wanted neither money nor fame and didn’t even enjoy it, why did he play an instrument? And why did he come out and play for her whenever she sang, even as he grumbled about it? She couldn’t make sense of it. Yet something about his peculiar attitude often felt familiar.

‘He’s kind of like those old geezers.’

Eugene suddenly remembered the old people she used to see throughout the neighborhood when she was little. They spent their days soaking up the sun, playing chess or making music. Having already lived through the prime of their lives, they missed the past and watched the present quietly rather than taking part in it, occasionally offering an opinion. Limon reminded her of them—especially the old veterans who had endured brutal wars.

‘Come to think of it, I really don’t know anything about my partner, do I?’

Anyone who knew Eugene would have been astonished by the thought. She cared only about enjoying herself and paid little attention to anything else; taking an interest in another person was extraordinary for her. Yet she went beyond idle curiosity and tried to recall what she knew about Limon.

‘Bird lover, weirdo, and rich...?’

A bird lover who went everywhere with a bluebird perched on his head. A weirdo who sometimes changed expression abruptly, as though receiving signals from somewhere, or teased the bird. And someone whose behavior suggested he was strangely unconcerned with money. Taken separately, those traits might not mean much. Together, they made for a decidedly odd picture.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter. My partner’s my partner.’

Eugene paid no mind to such little questions. Limon could be the biggest eccentric in the world—or a deranged serial killer. His musical ability was real, and that reason alone was more than enough for Eugene to consider him her soulmate.

‘Once this is over, I’ll take my partner along, too.’

Eugene made a plan: when the job was done, she would take a long vacation and travel around the world with Limon, filling every day with performances. It was a wildly ambitious plan, and the possibility that he might refuse never even entered into it. If he wouldn’t come along, she would just have to make it happen.

“Hmm-hmm.”

Perhaps making travel plans had lifted her spirits, or perhaps she was caught up in the melody coming through her headphones. Either way, Eugene made no effort to suppress the tune that rose to her lips. She lay on the bench with her arms behind her head, lost in the pleasure of humming to herself.

“Hey, what’s this? There’s a girl here?”

“She’s a foreigner. Probably didn’t know this is our hangout.”

“Yeah, Byung-sik’s and Han-seo’s crews haven’t been around here lately. Someone from out of town wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, she’s pretty cute.”

But whether by bad luck or inevitability, Eugene’s good mood was interrupted by unexpected intruders.

“Hey, miss. Speak our language?”

“If you’re lost, want us to show you the way?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re nice guys.”

“Pfft! Since when were you nice?”

The two men ambled toward her with their hands in their pockets, plainly motivated by anything but concern. From their slovenly clothes and swagger to the piercings in their ears and lips and the way their eyes openly roved over her neck and thighs, they looked like punks. Even calling them thugs would be too generous.

Eugene paid them no attention. No, she ignored their existence entirely. All that mattered to her was humming along with the melody flowing through her headphones.

“Hey, miss. Can’t you hear us?”

Noise intruded.

“Fucking bitch. How loud do you have those headphones if you can’t hear someone talking to you?”

Annoying, worthless noise.

“I was gonna ask nicely, but I guess that won’t work.”

She didn’t want to pay it any attention.

“Nicely, my ass. You said you’d talk to that other girl, too, then you fucking XXXXed her and XXed her so bad she reported you.”

But the noise would not go away.

“That X-bitch wouldn’t listen. Huh? The guild master’s nephew offers to spend time with her, and she ought to be grateful.”

“Come to think of it, what happened to her?”

“What do you think? Kicked her out of the guild and buried her career. We let a lackey who wasn’t even level 20 join because she had a pretty face, and she had the nerve to report me?”

“Man, you’re a shameless bastard.”

Their voices kept chattering. The noise disrupted the melody, and the filthy feelings mingled with it dragged Eugene’s mind away from Limon’s playing and spoiled her pleasure.

“Hey, since it’s come to this, why don’t we just do the same to this girl...”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

Eugene finally stopped humming. The two punks stood there blinking, as if their ears were plugged. She spoke to them in a cold voice.

“You’re making too much noise. Shut the fuck up and get lost.”