Into The Thrill

"Don't you even greet me?"
"I just saw with my own eyes that your body is fine."

"Look at how you speak."
"Hello."
"I can't say hello."

"What about Dad?"
My stepmother wasn't scolding me. She was using the tone of a wife complaining to her husband because she was bored and had nothing to do.
"He went on a business trip to the U.S."

"...."
Dad spent about half of every month in the U.S. Haewon and the stepmother both knew this, but neither of them ever mentioned it outwardly. It was clear that Dad had another household over there. The trips became more frequent, and whenever he returned, he treated my stepmother unnaturally well.
When she remarried Dad, my stepmother had been a woman as beautiful as a flower. Though she had lost a bit of her youthful glow, she was now completely accustomed to the role of a wife, giving off a completely different impression from when I first saw her.

An awkward silence passed between us, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking without saying anything. Haewon lifted his head, taking a sip of the remaining iced tea. He saw Haejeong coming down the stairs.
Haejeong, who had been running, squeezed herself next to my stepmother, sitting on the seat beside her with curiosity shining in her eyes, staring at Haewon.
Haewon made eye contact with the six-year-old.

"Hello."
"You should greet Haejeong first."
"Adults should greet first, not a six-year-old."

Haewon continued to ignore the hidden meaning behind her complaint. Haejeong, without responding, burrowed next to my stepmother’s side.
He had been living alone even before Haejeong was born. They saw each other once a month, exchanging brief glances. Although they were half-siblings, they felt like strangers to one another. The same went for Haejeong, who looked at Haewon with curiosity as if he were a stranger.
"I have a recording today. I need to go."

"I told the lady to prepare lunch. Eat before you go."
"I have an appointment."
"Don't lie."
She cut the stems of the fresh flowers with scissors, glaring at him as Haejeong clung to her side.

"Why is she acting so spoiled lately? Can't she sit properly?"
"Give me money. For the store."
At Haewon's urging, the stepmother glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Haejeong, go to Mom's room and bring my bag from the dresser. Your brother has to leave."
Haejeong, who had been huddled into a small ball, reluctantly stood up and walked into the left room. A moment later, Haejeong returned with a handbag in hand. After placing it beside my stepmother, she went back to arranging the fresh flowers.
"Madam, the meal is ready."

The maid approached and spoke, and my stepmother’s gaze turned toward Haewon. It was a look as if to say, "I told you so."
"Haewon, aren't you having a meal before you leave?"
"No, I have an appointment. I'll eat next time."

"I thought you'd have a meal since it's been a long time, but never mind. At least have a bite before you go."
"I have a lunch appointment. Sorry."
After several refusals, my stepmother opened the handbag Haejeong brought and tossed a thick envelope onto the table. Haewon took the envelope and placed it in his pocket, feeling as though he were collecting payments from a loan shark. He didn't hesitate and stood up immediately.

"I'm going."
"Like father, like son. Just like your dad."
"I don’t look like him. Please stop cursing. Haejeong, I’m leaving."

Haejeong, who had been hiding behind my stepmother, waved her hand without thinking, then quickly retracted it in surprise.
Haewon grabbed his violin case and left the house. He wouldn't see them for a month. The lightness in his step was palpable.
As he walked through the garden toward the front gate, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw my stepmother hurrying toward him, ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) her silk dress or nightgown fluttering in the air. She stopped just before Haewon and, with a flushed face, muttered quickly.

"I'm going to divorce."
"...What?"
"I'm going to divorce."

Haewon paused for a moment before asking.
"Why?"
"Don't you know what your father is doing? Do you need me to speak the filth out loud?"

"You married him too."
"...What?"
"You also lived with Dad after Mom passed away. What’s so surprising about this?"

"You... You... You!"
She pointed her finger at him, but Haewon quickly grabbed her hand and swatted it away like swatting a fly.
"How dare you point at me. I'm late for my appointment. I'm going."

Haewon turned and walked briskly through the garden, leaving her red-faced and seething behind him. He passed through the front gate and turned the corner. A taxi was coming down the hill, and Haewon raised his hand. The taxi quickly stopped in front of him.
At the studio, the record label representative and Kim Jaemin were already there. Haewon checked his watch and saw he was about ten minutes late. The record label representative, who had been lounging on the sofa in the monitor room, turned his gaze away from Haewon without greeting him.
Kim Jaemin sighed lightly and walked over to Haewon.

"You're late. Did you eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Does that mean you didn’t eat? Want me to order something?"

"I don’t feel like it. Let’s just record."
"The engineer went out for a call. We’ll start soon. Oh, this is Director Yoon. Have you met him? It’s your first time, right?"
"Hello."

Haewon gave a slight bow in greeting. The record label representative gave him a cold look, clearly untrusting of Haewon, who had bypassed other soloists to take the main spot. This was understandable, as the representative had to worry about promotion.
Kim Jaemin, noticing the representative's attitude, spoke up with some irritation.
"I told you, I’m vouching for his talent. Why don’t you greet him properly instead of making it awkward in front of everyone?"

"Nobody else has heard him except for Director Kim."
"If the composer likes him, that’s all that matters. Have you practiced?"
"A couple of times."

Haewon answered Kim Jaemin's question. The record label representative looked displeased at Haewon's response. Kim Jaemin placed a hand on Haewon's shoulder, a subtle pride in his grip. Haewon didn’t understand why it felt like pride, as if he had created something, but he simply shrugged the hand off.
"Should we record in the control room?"
"We’ve cleared the piano booth. We’ll be using direct mic-ing with the amp."

"I’ll stand and play."
"Do whatever is comfortable."
Haewon grabbed his violin case and entered the booth. The lights were dimly set. He moved a chair and set the mic position. He placed the shoulder rest on the violin and positioned it under his chin. Holding the bow tightly, he ran it across the strings, making the resin dust fall like powder. He played a smooth legato, tuning the violin.

As he tuned, the recording engineer entered the room and gave him a light nod. Kim Jaemin stood with his arms crossed, observing.
Once Haewon finished tuning, he put on headphones. He played lightly, letting the clear sound fill his ears. When he turned on the mic, the engineer’s voice followed.
"We’ll record in stereo for a clean sound. After listening, we may adjust the tone or add reverb."

The engineer turned the mic off, and the silence was as if someone had blocked his ears.
Haewon stood comfortably, focusing on the background sound in his headphones. He had no desire to reassure the record label representative or to impress him. He wasn’t trying to surprise anyone. He had been paid and was simply fulfilling his contract.
He pressed the strings hard enough to make them break, and as the pitch climbed into high notes, the sound of the strings cracked, as if his voice was desperately tearing apart. Usually, people would ask if he was in a bad mood or angry because Haewon wasn’t the type to show emotions on his face. But when he played, it was different. Watching the recorded performance, he was so embarrassed that he couldn’t even look at it properly. His emotions would rise so intensely that his face would ripen into a fruit ready to burst.

It would be the same this time. But when he played, he couldn’t control it. He would be consumed by the melody, as though being sucked into a completely different world.
The heavy prelude led into a theme with faster breaths, followed by an intense ascent and climax that felt like his breath was being choked. Such a feeling couldn’t be replicated twice. Though the notes jutted out in the middle, there was no time to think as he transitioned into the refrain, releasing the tightness in his chest. The final theme settled into a calm descent, as though everything had finally quieted down, before he pulled the bow away from the strings.
Haewon turned his usual emotionless face toward the recording booth, where Kim Jaemin and the record label representative were standing.

Kim Jaemin was glaring at him with his arms crossed, a piercing gaze. The record label representative, looking like he had just woken up from a nightmare, nodded slightly when their eyes met. As the engineer spoke, the three exchanged excited looks, hurriedly sharing their opinions. They might have suggested doing another take or maybe said it was good enough. The engineer’s voice came through Haewon’s headphones, confirming his guess.
"Would you be able to do it again? The first take felt good, but we might get something even better if you try again."
"I don’t mind."

Haewon’s indifferent response made them exchange glances. They decided to do another take.
“You didn’t practice, but you sure have the ability to surprise people. Make it chill-inducing again. Give me something electrifying, like Itzhak Perlman.”
The direct stare felt almost too stimulating, and Haewon was slightly short of breath. He placed the violin between his shoulder and chin, feeling around the fingerboard.

When he was younger, pressing the strings had been painful. Before calluses had formed, his fingertips would be red and swollen after playing. Blisters would form, and skin would peel off, but eventually, the calluses hardened, and his fingers forgot the pain of pressing steel strings. Now, with his three-hundred-year-old instrument and his accumulated skill, Haewon had become one with the violin.
"Let’s go again."
As the engineer’s voice echoed, the pre-recorded prelude played. Haewon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This time, he pressed the strings down hard enough to make them almost snap again.

∞ ∞ ∞
With a thud, Haewon’s back slammed hard against the soundproof wall. Kim Jaemin’s firm thigh immediately pressed against his knees. He ground his groin against Haewon’s center, sucking on his lips forcefully. Haewon was being bitten by him. He twisted the hand gripping his shoulder and shoved it away.
“Ha, ha, are you crazy? There are people in the next room.”

“I know.”
He answered briefly, then crushed his lips back against Haewon’s, cutting off his breath. The lips that had been licking his mucous membranes moved away and began to frenzy across Haewon’s earlobe and neck. The heated skin pressed together, drenched in sweat. Haewon tilted his head back, feeling as though Kim Jaemin would leave marks on his neck. His breath and actions seemed pitiful, driven by excitement. He was heading towards his breaking point alone, murmuring in need.
Haewon twisted his head to avoid him.

“I’ll strip you down and make you perform in front of me.”
“Wait… mmph.”
Kim Jaemin’s tongue entered Haewon’s mouth, disrupting his words. It smelled of cigarettes. Haewon gave up trying to push him away and let his hands drop. His rough hands yanked open Haewon’s pants buckle.

Beyond the soundproof wall, beyond this thin barrier that had been hastily erected, people were working in the next room.
The faint sound of their voices could be heard. His hand roughly groped below. He unzipped his own pants, pulled out his fully erect penis, and rubbed it against Haewon’s. Haewon turned his gaze away from Kim Jaemin, whose face was turning red with shame. He pressed himself closer to him so that Kim Jaemin could reach his climax. Kim Jaemin, who hadn’t even touched it with his hand, quickly spilled his hot release, which flowed down Haewon’s lower abdomen.
"Hey, Director Kim! What are you doing? The coffee’s here."

“It’s done. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Kim Jaemin quickly controlled his breath and spoke in a calm voice. Then, with a sharp exhale, he looked at Haewon. His gaze had deepened, and his eyes seemed to pierce Haewon’s soul. Haewon stared at him blankly.
“I thought I was going to fuck you right then.”

“Already treated like a weirdo, so I guess I’ll be treated like a crazy person from now on.”
With a dry laugh, Kim Jaemin rested his sweaty forehead on Haewon’s shoulder. His spent erection brushed against Haewon’s bare skin.
“Honestly, I thought you were avoiding live performances because you had no skill.”

“I don’t like live performances.”
“Not only do you get them hard, but you also make them cheap. Where have you been hiding until now?”
He kept talking into Haewon’s neck, and it made his nape tingle. Haewon hunched his shoulders, trying to avoid his lips that kept making contact with his neck.

“I hate people like you who listen with their body instead of their ears when I perform. I absolutely despise it when someone isn’t listening to my performance but instead focusing on something else.”
“I’m not joking.”
With a long sigh, Kim Jaemin let go and wiped himself with a tissue, adjusting his pants. He gestured to Haewon to let him go first, then turned and left. After he left, Haewon stood alone for a while before heading to the recording studio.

After three performances, the OK signal was given. It was work that had to be finished by today, but it was done quicker than expected.
Kim Jaemin handed Haewon the hotel key card. Since there were still a few more songs to record, he subtly hinted that Haewon should go to the hotel first. Haewon’s schedule, as Kim Jaemin knew, had nothing planned. Haewon appeared to be a freelancer with too much free time.
Haewon took a taxi from the studio to the hotel.

He checked his phone indifferently, seeing the message about the delay in work, then took a soothing bath and had a massage in the room. He ordered room service, which was close to a full dinner, and put everything under Kim Jaemin’s name, signing the bill carelessly.
He turned on the TV and lazily flipped through the paid channels before putting on some light clothes and heading to the lounge. The spacious lounge, with one side as a bar and the other as a café, was fairly crowded. Only those with reservations were allowed to enter through the entrance, and Haewon ignored a small altercation between an unsatisfied customer and the staff, choosing a spot by the window.
He ordered a cocktail and looked out at the night view through the window. The scenery was so beautiful that he could have paid to just watch it. His father was rich, but for Haewon, who relied on his stepmother for his monthly living expenses, this was a bit of a luxury.

Looking closer, though, it would probably seem chaotic, complicated, and sometimes pitiful.
While receiving a massage, the lingering aftereffects of his performance were soothed by the night view and the cocktail.
As Haewon sat there killing time, someone sat at the empty table next to him. A man in golf attire and a woman wearing a form-fitting dress, clearly paying attention to her appearance, sat close to Haewon’s side. With nothing else to do and now accustomed to the emotional impact of the view, Haewon turned his attention to them.

"Mr. Woojin, what do you want? Whiskey?"
The waiter politely offered them the menu. Without even looking at it, the woman asked the man. The man also declined the menu and ordered in a quick, low tone.
“No alcohol. Just add an extra shot to my iced Americano.”

“Then I’ll have fresh fruit juice, kiwi please.”
“Got it.”