Wishing for one’s child to walk a stable path, to find a shortcut instead of taking the long way around. Maybe that’s the common heart of all parents. The four sets of parents gathered here were no different. Even Seok Dojae’s parents, who hadn’t objected to their son’s music, secretly hoped it would remain just a hobby.
They might have assumed it was simply a phase of youthful wandering, and that if left alone he would naturally return to his place.
But that conviction wavered. Because of a single twenty-year-old boy.
The Juyeon they saw was unmistakably different from his peers.
He declared he believed in a potential their own children hadn’t shown them. And yet, instead of sounding cocky, somehow his words made their heads nod as if under a spell.
Even so, they steeled themselves to judge coolly. They were adults who knew all too well how hard it is to survive on half-baked talent.
With that grim resolve, they began to watch the performance.
The shimmering wind chimes seemed to lift them out of reality and guide them to another space. And before long, they felt the shock of a great wall inside them crumbling.
[Maybe across light-years unending
you’ve run tirelessly to appear before me.
With both hands clasped, I make my wish:
may this moment last forever!]
Even those who knew nothing about music, even Dojae’s father who had once been hopelessly smitten with the romance of drums in his youth, even Hangyeol’s mother who had majored in piano—all of them asked themselves the same question.
‘When was the last time I smiled like that?’
They recalled a moment from the distant past: the clear smile of a child who spent an entire day holding their hand, chattering about dreams; a memory they tried to fix in their eyes because they knew time would naturally wash it away.
‘If not this path, could they keep a smile like that?’
Watching them sing along, playing their instruments with glee, the parents found themselves tapping their feet. Only one impression filled their hearts.
‘Proud.’
Though their faces were hidden by masks, the way they met each other’s eyes and listened to each other’s sound was more beautiful than any famous scene in a film.
They knew they shouldn’t make noise while it was being recorded, but they couldn’t stop their murmurs of admiration.
And their gaze soon swung to Juyeon at the center of it all.
[When you believe our dream
even a shard of a star
will shine beautifully.
Clasp your hands and wish with all your heart—
to my shooting star]
A voice that pushed out with power. The face was hidden by a mask, but surely it was the face of someone dreaming. If this was a band led by someone like that, a belief grew that they could cheer for their child’s dream with an easy mind.
“Up to now, we’ve been the band Blank. Thank you!”
***
After the performance, the members collapsed into their seats, completely spent. Maybe all the built-up tension had released at once; they didn’t have the strength to lift a finger. But they felt on top of the world.
At first, Seok Dojae couldn’t even raise his head to meet his parents’ eyes. But when he finally dared to look up and found them smiling warmly, he played more powerfully than ever. He kept choking up and barely held it down, pouring that energy into his sticks instead. The drum that sounded especially big today carried a wish: that this was not just a hobby, but his life.
Kwon Taejin started out so tense he played without a single hint of a smile. But as he straightened his posture and saw his parents watching him without taking their eyes off him, he could finally smile in peace. For the first time, he experienced that he could bring joy to his parents through music. A thrill that tingled up to his scalp. An unforgettable, positive shock.
Juyeon stood up front, facing the members’ families.
First came doubt, then surprise, delight, and finally relief.
‘Feels good.’
Watching that change, Juyeon felt a strength he couldn’t name. Inviting the families had indeed been the right call. The desire to be recognized makes people all the more desperate; everyone had shown a passion they’d never revealed before.
And then Juyeon was sure.
‘We’ve got it!’
All through the set, he could feel the sincerity of the members at his back.
His role was to carry all that sincerity in his voice. He already knew that perfectly well.
Before anyone even hit stop, everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering.
“How did you hide this all this time?”
“Son! Studying isn’t everything!”
“Mrs. Baek, what did I tell you! I said there are plenty of ways to make a living!”
Arms wide, Taejin’s mother came toward them. Juyeon smiled, expecting a warm mother-and-son scene.
“……Mom?”
But the one she embraced wasn’t Taejin—it was Juyeon.
“Uh, ma’am?”
“Thank you so much, student!”
Right after, Taejin’s father clapped Juyeon on the shoulder.
“Thanks for making a man out of our boy.”
“Dad? No, come on, that’s not it!!”
“Juyeon, what do you think about becoming our son?”
“Mrs. Baek, don’t joke that seriously, you’ll make me cry.”
“I’m not joking. Juyeon can be the hyung, and you can be the little brother.”
Seeing Taejin’s face crumple, Juyeon’s mischievousness kicked in.
“Shall I, ma’am?”
“Absolutely. We’ll tell Taejin to sleep in the storage room.”
“Why don’t we just move into their place? The house is huge.”
“Such refined speech—every sentence ending with ‘huge this, huge that!’”
As Mrs. Baek tugged at Taejin’s cheeks, Juyeon smoothed things over.
“Oh, I envy your parents so much, Juyeon. What a dutiful son.”
“Ah… thank you.”
Watching Taejin being dragged off, Juyeon smiled wryly. When he turned his head, Dojae’s family came into view.
“So this is what ‘blue surpasses indigo’ looks like?”
“What did I tell you?”
“When he first learned drums from you he was so tiny—when did he get this good?”
“Back then his hands were so small he couldn’t even grip the sticks.”
“Now he doesn’t just grip them—he breaks them.”
At their warm, nostalgic chatter, the corners of his mouth lifted again. He pressed his thumbnail into his index finger. Maybe because of the callus, it didn’t hurt much.
Juyeon stretched big and called out, as if nothing had happened.
“Shall we check the video together?”
Everyone who’d been scattered gathered around, and he hit play with confidence.
“Oh…”
“It’s definitely not like the last time.”
“Gosh, I think my voice got in at the end—is that okay?”
“Mrs. Baek, that’s nothing a little editing can’t fix~”
He felt proud watching the families exclaim and the members dash over like kids.
Even on video, the members’ sincerity came through intact. The result was better than expected, and he felt a Eureka.
“Looks like we really do need an audience.”
Hearing that, Juyeon fell silent for a moment.
He wondered if, before regression, the reason they quit the band might have been the fear of making music without an audience.
If there had been even a few people to listen to their music…
“…Ah.”
“……”
“Juyeon?”
A voice pulled him up from the depths.
“Huh? Oh.”
“What are you staring at?”
“I zoned out, that’s all.”
Juyeon rubbed his eyes and looked back at reality. Go Hangyeol, alive and moving. The members, still in love with music. And the people who cheered for their music.
‘This is the world I live in.’
The brief unease vanished without a trace.
“Thank you. We’ll make it through and do our best all the way to winning the audition!”
“If it’s you, Juyeon, I’m sure you can.”
“If our Taejin doesn’t listen, call me right away!”
“You don’t even have to ask for that, I already—”
Quietly, Juyeon jabbed Taejin in the side.
“We’re done filming for today. Let’s not practice more—go home and rest.”
“Best leader!”
“Lord Ju.”
At the embarrassingly grand nickname, Juyeon gave a small look, and, as even a school dog learns poetry in three years, Cha Seonjae and Seok Dojae slipped out of the room. Smiles were spread wide on their faces as they turned away.
“We’ll wait outside.”
“Yep.”
“Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon!”
“Take care, Juyeon. See you next time.”
When the door closed, Taejin clenched his fist.
“Yes!”
It was a ringing shout, all the pent-up excitement spilling out at once.
“Dad told me to give the band a real shot. You’re incredible, man—I’ll be loyal for life!”
“Loyalty, my ass… You’re that happy?”
“Uh-huh, like… insanely happy!”
“Go on, then.”
“See you tomorrow! Mrs. Go, see you next time!”
After Taejin left too, only Juyeon, Hangyeol, and Hangyeol’s mother remained. In the slightly awkward air, Go Hangyeol’s eyes flicked around, and then he slipped out, mumbling something about the bathroom.
Left alone with her, Juyeon thought hard about what to say.
But it was Hangyeol’s mother who broke the long silence.
“Thank you for being in a band with our Hangyeol.”
“Not at all. I’m the one who’s grateful he’s in the band.”
“The truth is, when he quit piano, I felt terribly guilty. He was really good—he really loved it.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“I’m saying this because I think you’d understand, even if he wouldn’t like me telling it to anyone…”
“If it’s about piano… I’ve already heard it from him.”
“From Hangyeol?”
She looked at Juyeon in surprise. She knew how defensive her son became about family and piano, and it was hard to believe.
“So you don’t have to tell me again.”
Hangyeol had told Juyeon about it last winter while they were working on a song. He’d been a prodigy at the piano since elementary school. He’d attended an arts middle school and nurtured the dream of becoming a pianist, but when his father passed away, the family circumstances deteriorated sharply.
Judging it no longer realistic to major in piano, he gave it up himself. He went to a regular high school and, ending up in the same class as Juyeon, joined the band.
“Thank you.”
“No, I should be thanking you! The fact that he played piano helps the band so much.”
“He told me I didn’t have to do music again if I didn’t want to. But today, he looked so happy the whole time he played. If it weren’t for you, our family would have had a very hard time.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Flustered, Juyeon handed her a tissue. She bowed her head with a faint smile.
“Please keep looking out for him.”
“M-me too, please look after me!”
Before he knew it, Juyeon had bowed so low his crown nearly touched the floor.
“I’m back…”
Peeking through the door, Go Hangyeol stuck his head in.
“Son, you’re back?”
“What were you two talking about?”
“Just asking him to take good care of my boy.”
“Mom, seriously… I’m not a kid.”
“Hey, even when you’re an old man, you’re still a kid to your parents.”
“See? I told you I’m a total old soul child.”
After seeing the two of them out, Juyeon was alone in the empty practice room. A familiar hollowness rushed in—the kind he used to feel leaving a roaring venue to return to a hotel. He stared blankly at the ticking second hand for a moment, then slapped his knees and stood.
When he got home, he checked the recording again. The same thrill came back, and the emptiness filled. He carefully edited to make sure no stray sounds or comments had slipped in, then opened his email.
[Submitting our “Band Again” video audition entry. (Band Blank)]
Now it really began.