Chapter 59: Should We Stop

“…It’s been a while. Boyfriend.”

Ignoring the raging storm, So-yul greeted me.

Faintly from her strength-drained body, yet clearly enough not to be buried by the rain.

Completely broken down with no trace of her usual playful demeanor.

Then she silently just stared at me.

She didn’t mention why she was sitting here or why she called me out. She didn’t make unnecessary jokes like usual either.

So-yul just stared at me without moving her lips, as if she’d just wanted to see my face.

Meanwhile, I found it hard to just watch quietly.

Only wearing a light blue dress with a bright yellow cardigan. Though it was summer, the night was freezing. Getting soaked by the typhoon’s rain and wind would surely lead to a cold. Indeed, her cheeks were already visibly flushed even from far away.

I stepped forward through the harsh weather as if swimming.

The sound of splashing came from rain pooled on the walking path. Raindrops from the hole-filled sky, from the hazy air before me, constantly soaked my entire body.

Not caring about that, I walked until I reached So-yul. As I approached, she just kept raising her head to stare at me.

So-yul’s eyes watching me held no focus.

The closer I got, the further she seemed from the So-yul I knew.

Finally I stopped in front of the bench.

Through the pouring rain I saw So-yul looking up at me. Her gaze so faint it was unclear if she was even looking at me. Watching made me feel like my chest was burning.

Meeting those eyes directly, I spoke:

“…What are you doing here?”

“Just… felt like standing in the rain somehow…”

“This isn’t just some light rain. They said it’s a typhoon.”

Not even empty words could excuse this weather. No one in the world would sit here with such a simple mindset of just wanting to feel the rain for a moment.

Soon So-yul parted her lips.

“You too, standing there without an umbrella…”

“I’m fine. My clothes are thicker than yours at least. So rather than me, you…”

“I’m fine too.”

So-yul cut me off then:

“…Everything’s fine now.”

She added this in an utterly calm tone.

Everything’s fine now.

Though they should be positive words, to me they sounded like giving up, like saying she no longer cared what happened.

I hadn’t expected her to be getting soaked here helplessly. If I’d worn an outer layer I would have given it to her immediately, but even that wasn’t possible.

But dragging her inside the dormitory wouldn’t solve anything either.

If it were pain that could be washed away by one night of rain that would be one thing, but So-yul’s wounds were surely not shallow.

There was nothing else to do.

Letting out a light sigh, I sat down heavily beside So-yul.

I thought it fortunate that at least the tree behind the bench blocked some rain.

Rain sounds rang out as if covering the silence. Though neither of us moved our lips, my ears were noisy. Any quiet words would seem to just mix into the rainfall.

Now there was nothing to hide, nothing to say indirectly.

The first words breaking the long silence came from my lips.

“…What happened at the competition?”

So-yul sitting right beside me jerked her shoulders. A sharp intake of breath lingered in my ear. She seemed quite startled by my immediate dive into the main point.

But seems So-yul hadn’t planned to hide it either.

Soon a pale voice came from beside me.

“I made a mistake. Like a real idiot.”

“I know. I watched it all.”

Because I knew this, I’d deliberately asked.

I remembered So-yul’s dismay when she made the mistake. I recalled perfectly how she even gently bit her lip while visibly shaken.

But that wasn’t the real issue.

Until that point at least, So-yul had no major problems. Though uncertain at the end of her performance, she seemed somewhat relieved after receiving passionate reactions.

Even if she regretted an imperfect performance, it wasn’t something to despair over like this. The So-yul I’d watched until now wasn’t someone who would break down so easily.

That’s why I had only one suspicion.

I knew well who could take away So-yul’s hope.

“…Was it because of your parents?”

“…”

So-yul gave no answer.

To me, that was rather the clearest answer.

A cherry tree stood across from us. The cherry blossoms that had bloomed brilliantly in spring had long since fallen.

Soon raindrops gathered at the tips of branches. The droplets pooled together then fell to the ground with a plop.

Right then So-yul opened her mouth.

“I guess my practice wasn’t enough. I should have worked harder. To make such a ridiculous mistake on the real stage…”

“What do you mean not enough? You worked so hard you collapsed during class.”

I couldn’t understand what she meant by needing to work harder. She’d even lost consciousness from cutting sleep to practice. If pushing yourself harder could solve things, no one in the world would have worries.

“I know how hard you worked. How could you possibly work any harder than that?”

“…You think so?”

“Yeah. The mistake probably came from being too nervous. It was such a huge stage. Plus your parents were watching from the audience.”

Perhaps she made the mistake because her condition deteriorated from excessive practice. Either way, it wasn’t an issue that would improve with more effort.

I believed So-yul would understand my intent too.

But So-yul bit her lip and slowly shook her head.

“…Hearing words like that, I think I got soft.”

It sounded like she was putting herself down.

“Got soft?”

“Yeah.”

After her careful answer, a small voice followed.

“You know what thought crossed my mind when I made that mistake during the first piece’s climax?”

Now it was my turn to shake my head.

Confirming my reaction, So-yul showed a bitter smile and gave her answer.

“I thought, ‘My boyfriend will comfort me this time too.'”

She said this with self-mocking laughter as if it were some funny joke.

“I felt relieved thinking there was someone who’d say it’s okay even if I made a huge mistake. Thinking I wouldn’t need to blame myself alone. That made me feel at ease and relax… Pretty stupid, right?”

So-yul’s long explanation didn’t sound like she was blaming me. Rather, she seemed to feel sorry towards me.

Just what was she sorry for? No matter how much I pondered, I couldn’t find an answer. Perhaps she felt needless guilt about relying on me.

Well, that would make sense.

Carrying all her worries alone. Unable to easily share with anyone, struggling by herself. In a situation where even her parents who should be closest were hostile, she had nowhere to lean on.

It was the same even during the arts festival.

Until I appeared, So-yul had cried alone. Hiding her welling tears even from friends waiting backstage.

Then receiving comfort from me who showed up late, So-yul showed a smile that seemed genuinely happy.

My existence must have been that foreign to So-yul.

But I wonder.

Never having anyone to say “it’s okay to make mistakes” throughout her life. Wasn’t that rather abnormal?

“But until then.”

So-yul’s voice cut into my deep thoughts.

Seems the story wasn’t over yet.

“Until then, I just decided I needed to strengthen my resolve after the competition. While finishing my performance after pulling myself together, while bowing to the audience thinking I’d have to accept bad results, while feeling I could perform without pressure…”

Then saying “But you know,” So-yul started:

With trembling lips she spoke resignedly.

“…My mom was smiling.”

A cold sensation spread in my chest the moment I heard this.

“Smiling meaning…”

“Yeah.”

As if there was no need to hear the rest, So-yul cut in sharply then:

“She was sneering as if pleased. While looking at me.”

What followed was truly absurd.

Her daughter made a mistake on such an important stage. Yet she quickly gathered herself and successfully finished performing. Other audience members showed support with cheers and applause.

Yet her parent… was sitting in the audience sneering at her daughter.

I clearly felt directionless anger slowly boiling up from inside. My fists clenched unconsciously. My grinding molars made a sharp sound as I bit down trying to contain it.

“That’s when I realized. No matter how much I practiced and showed good performances, she never once showed joy. Not even any reaction at all. But when I made a mistake at a place like this, she was actually happy…”

Then she whispered briefly:

“…Nothing matters anymore.”

After closing her mouth as if concluding, So-yul burst into laughter.

No, I thought perhaps she was sobbing.

Her voice mixed with pain and desperation stung. I hadn’t wanted to hear such despairing words in So-yul’s beautiful voice. I’d wanted to do anything possible if it could help…

Seems my wishes hadn’t reached anywhere in the end.

Wanting her parents’ approval. So-yul had struggled forward until now with just this one goal.

Yet seeing So-yul fall, her parents were endlessly pleased instead.

Then maybe there was no need to try anymore. No reason to work until collapsing, no need to suffer through sleepless nights, maybe it would be fine to throw off all burdens and live comfortably.

In the end… wouldn’t quitting piano end it all?

There was no shortage of reasons to reach such a simple conclusion.

What comfort could possibly console So-yul in this situation?

Would meaningless comfort about everything working out in the future be enough?

Should I carelessly suggest living without caring about her parents?

Should I tell her to try just a bit more, that someday they’ll understand, offering hope without promise?

The rain grew fiercer. Storm clouds dyed even my vision pitch black. Whether my body’s trembling came from the cold rain and wind, or fear of losing So-yul, was impossible to know.

A leaf fell from wind blowing somewhere. Unable to fly far due to heavy raindrops, it immediately collapsed to the ground. The powerlessly drooping leaf somehow looked pitiful.

As if taking that as a signal, So-yul opened her mouth.

“I guess you were right after all.”

“…About what?”

What could she mean? I couldn’t immediately grasp So-yul’s intent. As I waited for her next words, So-yul barely answered in a fading voice.

“That maybe it would be better to end this relationship, even for my sake.”

“What?”

Soon So-yul brought up words I’d once said to her.

My breath caught at the words returning like a boomerang. My heart pounded wildly, and a grating ringing started in my ears.

Ignoring my state, So-yul continued moving her lips.

“Boyfriend.”

Then, as if pronouncing a solemn verdict, she continued:

“Should we stop pretending to be lovers?”