Into The Thrill Chapter 6.1

It was the morning of the performance day. Haewon had set an alarm to ensure he wouldn't forget the rehearsal schedule.

He woke up to the sound of the alarm. Morning sunlight poured through the gap in the curtains. The clear blue sky, without a cloud in sight, pierced his vision painfully.

Haewon rubbed his eyes with his hand and irritably turned over. The exhaustion of not wanting to do anything made his limbs feel heavy, and he slumped his body in the bed.

His physical state was terrible. He wanted to skip the schedule. He didn't want to do anything today, not even the performance. His arms and legs felt as if they were weighed down by lead. Even if soone held a knife to his throat and threatened to kill him, he wouldn't want to get up, but the alarm was so annoying that he had no choice but to get up.

Haewon was sensitive to sound, and the alarm was genuinely unbearable noise to him. He picked up the phone from the floor and turned off the alarm, and the noisy sound instantly disappeared. Then, his eyes landed on his bare legs that had slipped off the bed.

"Ah..."

The events of the previous night flashed in his mind. It had been a long ti since he felt so excited. For Haewon, sex was nothing more than a tiring struggle to soothe his fleeting desires.

An uncontrollable excitent wrapped around his body, as if swept up by sothing. His rationality evaporated and vanished. Even knowing that he was being watched, he didn't stop. The gaze on him made his skin tingle. It wasn’t an unpleasant shiver. Hyun Woojin’s gaze was one that blurred the lines between tension and pleasure.

He picked up his pants, which were carelessly discarded on the floor, and put them on.

Haewon got up and made the bed. As he fluffed the sheets, he suddenly stopped. His toy was missing. He pulled back the sheets and checked the mattress, but there was no sign of it.

Had he left it in the drawer last night?

He opened each of the three drawers of the side table, but it wasn't there either. It wasn't easy to find a toy that he truly liked.

Haewon called Hyun Woojin. He didn’t pick up. Muttering complaints about how he himself never answered the phone properly but always told others to listen and answer calls, Haewon called again. On the third try, Hyun Woojin finally answered.

—"I'm in a eting. Hang up."

"Wait...!"

Before Haewon could even shout "wait," the call was abruptly cut off. Stunned, Haewon stared at the screen. The call lasted only two seconds.

It was eight in the morning. Having a eting at eight was unfair labor. Haewon persistently called him again. After about three calls, a voice ssage ca, telling him that the phone was off. Haewon sent him a text ssage.

[Did you take the toy? Bring it back. I like it. I’ll use it often.]

After sending the ssage, Haewon threw the phone on the bed in a fit of frustration.

He took a shower and ate cereal with milk for breakfast. It was chilly, but since he mostly used a taxi, he didn’t dress too thickly. He made sure to wear gloves, though. He wore a dark brown coat.

He grabbed his violin and left the officetel. He picked up the suit he had dropped off at the laundromat a few days ago. He was planning to wear it for today’s performance. Even by the ti he left, Hyun Woojin still hadn’t replied.

When Haewon arrived at the concert hall by taxi, there was still no contact from him. It was the day of the performance, and with the morning rehearsal scheduled, the concert hall was already crowded with orchestra mbers, equipnt teams, lighting teams, sound teams, and event staff.

Haewon sat down with the coffee he had taken out and started organizing his instrunt. He checked the condition of the strings and the bow. The bow for the orchestra was too damaged for today’s performance, so he took out the solo bow and applied rosin to it.

As Haewon rubbed the rosin into the bow hair, he kept glancing at his phone on the music stand. Normally, he would turn the phone off or put it on silent during practice and keep it in his bag, forgetting about it, but today, he couldn’t stop looking at it.

The conductor arrived, and even before Henry Chang, who looked as if he hadn’t fully woken up, appeared last, Haewon’s phone had not changed at all. Haewon turned the phone off and stuffed it into his bag.

None of the orchestra mbers had trouble understanding the conductor’s English, but the interpreter was always standing by.

"We'll start again from the part we discussed yesterday."

The interpreter spoke the conductor’s words clearly. The conductor, with a displeased look on his face, glanced at the staff moving noisily in the audience seats. The interpreter loudly asked them to keep quiet. When the surroundings quieted down, the orchestra started tuning to the oboe’s A note.

Brahms' Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 77, was a piece Haewon loved and had always wanted to perform with an orchestra. It was dramatic and grand.

Reading the sheet music, Haewon followed the conductor’s gestures, playing the strings. As the solo section ca, Henry Chang’s Guarnieri lody echoed through the concert hall, which was devoid of an audience.

It seed that Henry Chang’s first concert in Korea was being fild by a broadcast station. A fluent English-speaking reporter followed him around, asking questions, while a caraman fild his every move. Haewon purposely avoided the cara, even though they weren’t filming him.

After the morning rehearsal, a buffet-style lunch was prepared in the restaurant. Haewon finally checked his phone.

As expected, there was nothing. No missed calls, no ssages. Only useless loan ssages and credit card benefit texts had been received.

Haewon, holding his phone as if he was waiting for a ssage, ate his lunch.

He should have reminded him that today was the performance day. He had told him yesterday, but Hyun Woojin might have forgotten, so it seed like a good idea to remind him with a ssage now. He had been the type to always call back when Haewon called, even if he missed it, especially when Haewon called him occasionally.

Haewon, forgetting he had called him about the toy, was frustrated with Hyun Woojin for not contacting him, even though it was performance day.

He wanted to hear his voice right away, but it wasn’t even a day without contact; it had only been half a day, yet Haewon was already anxious, digging into his salad with a fork as if crushing it, impatiently stabbing it repeatedly.

He wasn’t trying to play mind gas, but the thought that Hyun Woojin might be tired of his unbending attitude suddenly crossed Haewon’s mind.

Had he made a mistake?

There was nothing Haewon wanted from Hyun Woojin. With that appearance and atmosphere, his gaze tightened Haewon’s chest.

He was intellectual and kind, but sotis his wild eyes instantly made people nervous, and the gap between that and his usual deanor made Haewon’s hair stand on end. He had the perfect look to pressure criminals. When he was sharp, he reminded Haewon of a swordsman who could kill with a re touch. He was a man who left no room to slip in.

Last night, Haewon had respected him. Seeing him endure like a monk in ascetic practice, Haewon could truly feel that Hyun Woojin was six years older than him. It wasn’t sothing he could endure, nor was it necessary to.

It was nothing, so why did Hyun Woojin cling to it so much?

It wasn’t about the body, it was about the heart, he had said, gripping Haewon’s hair.

That feeling for Hyun Woojin had already appeared when Haewon had pushed himself behind Lee Jinyoung’s back.

He couldn’t swear by sothing as aningless as "forever," but for now, at least, his heart ca first, and he didn’t want anyone else. The vague guilt he had felt for Taeshin seed worthless after last night. Being conscious of it would only mock him. He was dead, and Haewon had t Hyun Woojin after his death, which Haewon kept rationalizing.

It had nothing to do with Taeshin, no matter how Haewon felt about Hyun Woojin.

The late regret that maybe he should have just given Hyun Woojin the answer he wanted last night washed over Haewon. If he wanted to hear his voice, he would have to call first, but Haewon had already called him nearly ten tis.

Now, he didn’t want to. Haewon had never called anyone first, desperate to hear their voice. He didn’t want to do sothing he didn’t usually do. He didn’t want to change his attitude because of Hyun Woojin.

The person who wanted sothing would call, right?

Haewon stared at his phone. No calls ca by the ti lunch ended.

"What kind of eting... doesn’t even eat lunch?"

Even as the performance drew near, there was still no contact from him.

Haewon changed into his prepared black suit—black pants and a black shirt. Most of the orchestra mbers wore black suits. So wore black jackets with white shirts inside, while others, like Haewon, wore only a black shirt without a jacket. It was an unwritten rule to unify the colors with black.

When he wore the jacket and stood under the lights, the heat from the spotlights made him sweat. Already needing to move his arms constantly, Haewon found the jacket uncomfortable, so he rarely wore it.

Sitting in the waiting room, he stared at the empty audience seats and the piano sitting alone on the stage, illuminated by the monitors. It wasn’t ti for the audience to enter yet, so only staff mbers who were checking the sound and the stage were bustling around the monitors.

"Did you see the announcer who ca earlier? I think she ca to interview Henry Chang. Her face is so tiny."

The cellist, who had graduated from Manhattan School of Music, spoke. Haewon, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, shaking his head and looking into the mirror, turned his head slightly. Beside him, the violist, whose hair was fixed with wax, looked up and explained as if to justify it, even though he hadn’t asked.

“If it slips, it would be a distraction.”

Though his hair had never actually slipped down and caused a problem, Haewon reached out to him.

“Can I borrow so too? I’ve been worried about my hairstyle.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

The violist, using the thick wax, styled his hair. As he pushed his hair back to reveal his forehead, it looked a bit slick. While they were sitting side by side, trying to create the trendy hairstyle they had heard about, the cellist subtly slid between them and said he wanted to try so too, when there was a knock at the door.

No one would knock to enter Room 3 of the string instrunt male waiting room. When the cellist replied with "Yes," the door opened. As soon as it did, a flower basket larger than a person appeared in front of Haewon.

“Is Moon Haewon here?”

“Huh?”

Haewon, not paying much attention and still touching his hair while looking in the mirror, turned his head. The delivery person hesitated a little as if unsure about handing the basket to a man, but after confirming the na again, he brought the large basket in. Haewon signed for the delivery.

The only person who knew Haewon was performing today was the person closest to him.

"Wow, who’s this from? Haewon, do you have a girlfriend? This is amazing. I’ve never seen a man get flowers before. But this is really cool. Maybe I should ask my girlfriend to send one too."

The violist, seeing the large flower basket, made a fuss on Haewon's behalf. Haewon, secretly hopeful, picked up the card wedged between the roses and hydrangeas. The emotions that had been rising and falling toward him all day suddenly settled with a hard thud.

What could this unpredictable emotional wave possibly be called?

[Congratulations on your performance. I’m sorry. Really sorry.]

The flower basket wasn’t from Hyun Woojin—it was from Lee Jinyoung. A feeling stronger than disappointnt flooded him. And beyond disappointnt, Haewon realized he felt resentful toward Hyun Woojin, and his heart tightened.

“Who’s this from?”

“A stalker.”

“Excuse ?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Haewon crumpled the card and threw it in the trash. The flower basket was shoved into a corner of the room.

This ant Lee Jinyoung was coming to the performance today. It was already clear that he wasn’t just a runaway music student; it was likely that his lawyer had inford him about Haewon’s identity.

Haewon considered texting Hyun Woojin, but then stopped himself. He barely managed to resist asking how he would handle soone who ignored threats. He couldn’t do anything, but just the act of this approach was exhausting. He didn’t want to deal with him.

“Looks like people are entering.”

On the monitor, Haewon saw the audience filling the seats. The performance was now only thirty minutes away.

Finally, Haewon checked the condition of his instrunt and made sure the order of the sheets hadn’t changed. The VIP seats were not visible on the monitor, and from his brief glance at the audience, neither Hyun Woojin nor Lee Jinyoung was in sight.

Staring at the flower basket in the corner, Haewon left the waiting room when the staff called. The orchestra mbers, who had been waiting in line at the stage entrance, began climbing the stairs one by one. As the perforrs appeared, applause erupted from the audience. Haewon, seated at the very back in the second violin section, followed the flutes and piccolos up to the stage.

The applause continued until the orchestra settled into their seats. Due to the lights, the audience was hard to see. If they had co, they were likely sitting sowhere in the crowd. Whether it was Hyun Woojin or Lee Jinyoung, at least Lee Jinyoung had sent flowers.

Haewon thought that even if it didn’t affect the performance, a simple ssage wishing him well would have been appropriate. There had been no contact from Hyun Woojin until he stepped onto the stage, and Haewon clenched his lips, feeling a restless unease driving him.

When the oboe played the A note, the entire orchestra began tuning. When the tuning was done, the conductor walked out, and applause filled the air. The orchestra mbers stood to welco the maestro. The first part of the concert was the regular orchestra performance, and the second part was Henry Chang’s concerto.

Since he wouldn’t be able to see anyway, Haewon decided to focus on the performance rather than looking at the audience. The magnificent orchestra sound filled the concert hall. His mind, already full of other thoughts, made him unsure whether he was truly playing or just mimicking the motions as ti passed.

After the first half, there was a fifteen-minute intermission.

Haewon’s phone, left in the waiting room, still had no new ssages, and he was starting to feel increasingly irritated. People moved restlessly in the audience, but the person he was hoping for was nowhere to be seen. He barely managed to suppress the urge to keep calling him.

He made good use of the fifteen minutes, using the bathroom and drinking so water, and then went back on stage for the second part. As Henry Chang and the pianist entered, the audience erupted in cheers and thunderous applause.

The audience, who had actually seen Henry Chang, were excited by his youthful appearance.

The first piece was Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op. 47, the "Kreutzer." Only Henry Chang and the pianist were illuminated by the spotlight, while the orchestra remained in darkness. Haewon finally turned his gaze up to the VIP seats. He could vaguely see Lee Jinyoung, but couldn’t make out anyone’s features.

As °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° his gaze lowered, he caught soone’s eyes. It was his own mistaken impression that they had locked eyes. From that side, Haewon wasn’t visible. Lee Jinyoung was sitting in the second row of the audience, and he was staring right at Haewon, as if he had known he would be performing. Even in the farthest row, he would have been able to see Haewon, despite being at the edge.

Haewon’s eyes t with the gaze of Lee Jinyoung. He had lost so weight and looked a bit sharper. He no longer looked like an athlete. Haewon looked at him for a mont before turning his attention away.

Tolstoy had written a novel after hearing Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata. The protagonist of the novel kills his wife. The story unfolds as a reflection of the speaker who murdered his wife. Tolstoy described the intense musical interaction between the violinist and the pianist as an affair, believing that the two were ntally unfaithful to each other while performing.

Though Henry Chang’s skill was impressive, especially his precision and technique in pressing the fingerboard, the complex emotions of the piece didn’t quite co through.

After the Kreutzer Sonata, Henry Chang and the pianist received a huge round of applause and left the stage. A staff mber ca out and moved the piano offstage.

As the spotlight illuminated the entire stage, Haewon sighed softly. Lee Jinyoung was sitting quite close, and his face could be seen from here as well. Haewon deliberately avoided looking toward him.

The conductor and Henry Chang returned to the stage. The highlight of the performance was about to begin: Brahms’ Violin Concerto.