CHAPTER 18
Read.
The notification next to the message showed that Min Chan-hyuk had read my proposal.
‘Well? What are you going to do?’
I muttered to myself.
It was a bold demand for a rookie to make. But I was confident. I believed that if it was Min Chan-hyuk, he would recognize the true value of this song.
‘He’s famous for having good ears.’
If that reputation wasn’t a lie, he would contact me soon.
‘If he tries to raise the buyout price a little and push for a full purchase, then there’s no need to continue the conversation.’
I knew the quality of my own music better than anyone. I had no intention of selling it cheaply just because I was new.
This wasn’t something he could decide on lightly.
He would need to discuss it with the team already involved in the project. It would probably take some time before I received a reply.
‘Still, something’s strange. It was supposed to be my first message… but it said I had blocked him.’
I had hesitated because of that when I first tried to send the message. I unblocked him, sent it, and turned notifications on.
‘And he said he left a comment because the message didn’t go through. Was it really just a system error?’
It bothered me, but since I hadn’t found any clear clue from Ah-rin’s reaction, all I could do was tilt my head in confusion.
Just then, the classroom door burst open.
Bang!
No, it didn’t just open. It slammed into the wall with a loud crash.
Every student turned to look.
The first thing I saw was an old khaki trench coat. The fedora on his head looked oddly neat in contrast.
He was carrying a heavy tool bag in both arms, making it seem like he had mistaken the engineering building for the music department.
His hair stuck out in every direction, and one lens of his glasses was cracked.
Even compared to other music professors, who tended to be freer than professors from other departments, this man was on another level. He looked like he had just survived an explosion.
“Hey, Drill Moon-ho’s here.”
“Legend as always.”
I heard the students whispering.
‘Drill Moon-ho.’ I could guess how that nickname had been born.
I’d heard he once brought a saw and an electric drill to class.
Thud.
He dropped the heavy tool bag and stood in front of the podium. Pushing up his cracked glasses, he looked at us.
“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m Cha Moon-ho. I’ll be teaching Experimental Aesthetics of Sound this semester.”
He spoke more normally than expected, which somehow made it more surprising.
The students clapped. He grinned.
“Let me tell you in advance. I don’t take attendance. So if you want to leave, you can walk out right now.”
That was a shocking opening.
“If you’re not interested in this class, stand up and leave. I won’t deduct points. Everyone automatically gets full marks for attitude.”
Murmurs filled the room.
Cha Moon-ho leaned forward, both hands on the podium.
“And assignments. I’ll give homework every week. Very hard homework.”
Every week?
A collective intake of breath swept through the room. But he burst out laughing.
“You don’t have to submit it! I won’t deduct points if you don’t! If you don’t want to do it, don’t!”
It was impossible to tell whether he was serious about teaching or not.
“But if you do submit it, I’ll personally give feedback. I don’t have a teaching assistant. I’ll stay up all night reading, listening, and tearing it apart.”
Silence fell again.
“As for grades? They’ll be based only on midterms and finals. And the questions will be solvable even if you never attend class. So it doesn’t matter.”
Students who were already exhausted from classes and assignments looked intrigued.
Well.
‘If you can solve them without attending, that probably means even if you attend, they’ll still be hard.’
There was always a reason students avoided certain classes. Easy classes filled up instantly.
“So then! What’s the benefit of a class with no attendance and no required homework?”
Cha Moon-ho shouted.
“Your ears will open up. You’ll learn to distinguish good sounds from bad sounds. You’ll start hearing sounds no one else can hear. Your ears will become the most sensitive and delicate instrument in the world.”
His tone was full of confidence.
His behavior was eccentric, but strangely persuasive. The students looked curious.
“Alright! If you’re leaving, now’s your chance!”
Students glanced at one another. After a few brave souls stood up and left, about a dozen followed.
‘That’s still more than I expected.’
It had felt like almost everyone would run out. But about two-thirds remained.
“Hahaha! Good. I’ll assume everyone staying is willing to learn.”
Clearing his throat, Cha Moon-ho began.
“Since it’s the first class, we’ll start lightly. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath…”
Then—
Screeeech!
The sound of fingernails scraping across the blackboard filled the room.
“Ugh!”
“Ah!”
Several students groaned and flinched.
“See? That sound makes you anxious, right? Fear, tension, discomfort! You feel it, don’t you?!”
Cha Moon-ho rambled excitedly.
“These tools! With them, we can create fascinating sounds. From uneasy sounds like that one to cold, chilling, almost dizzying sounds!”
Clatter.
Students began quietly gathering their bags.
“Yeah, no.”
“I’m out.”
From the back rows, footsteps steadily headed for the door.
But Cha Moon-ho didn’t care.
He smiled brightly and shouted at those remaining.
“Let’s continue!”
His class was every bit as bizarre as rumored. He scraped the podium, pulled out the drill, and blasted us with horrific noise after horrific noise.
And yet.
I stayed until the end.
‘The method is extreme, but it’s not nonsense.’
The sounds we call “music” are polished and refined.
But the world isn’t filled only with beautiful sounds.
The roar of the subway.
The screech of bus brakes.
Someone’s hurried footsteps.
All of those dissonances are part of our lives.
‘If I can train myself to find beauty within that.’
Cha Moon-ho was trying to close the gap.
Breaking the barrier between daily life and music, forcing us to confront discomfort.
‘I just regained my hearing. I need to sharpen it even more.’
If I did, it would become another weapon.
It might open a completely different path for me.
‘…Of course, seeing him like this still makes you want to run.’
At that moment, Cha Moon-ho was holding up an electric drill.
The anonymous school forum would definitely explode with posts about “Drill Moon-ho” later.
I was half in a state of enlightenment, watching his tool show, when—
Buzz.
A SoundPlace notification appeared.
It was from Min Chan-hyuk.
[ Hello. This is Min Chan-hyuk from VTunes.
I’ve reviewed your proposal. I understand that you wish to join as a composer, not merely as a source provider.
However, it is difficult to make a decision based solely on . No one gives credit to an unproven rookie.
Therefore, please visit the VTunes headquarters in person and prove your skill.
I will evaluate you directly. If you pass the assessment, I will officially include you in this project. If not, then unfortunately, even if it means giving up , we cannot allow you to join.
If you are interested, let me know your available date and time. I will arrange it. ]
After reading the entire message, I let out a small laugh.
Prove my skill?
That was the best thing he could have said.
Staring at my phone screen, I murmured,
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The corner of my mouth lifted in confidence.
