Death.
What comes after that?
For me, it was a pitch-black void.
Where am I?
All I could feel was my consciousness. Or maybe it was my spirit? I existed, yet none of my senses were active. A completely empty place.
Flash—!
A flicker of light appeared in the distance.
A reaper? The angel of death?
Even as those thoughts swirled in my mind, the light drew closer and began to take shape.
...A musical note?
As it shimmered like a note, it emitted sound.
Ding—♬
A clear and beautiful sound rang out, like the pluck of a harp string. Suddenly, sparkles, like dandelion seeds, rained down around me.
What's going on...?
The darkness vanished, replaced by a galaxy-like space where little stars of light danced and played music together.
I listened closely.
All the songs I heard were ones I knew—songs that had followed me throughout my life.
From Michael Jackson, my childhood hero, to the Billboard tracks I copied at SY Entertainment, to the songs I'd written myself.
More than half of my life had been music.
With each song's end, glowing fragments passed through me. And with every note, I began to shine more brightly.
I didn't know why this was happening, but I could feel it—each shimmering note represented a part of my life.
This is my life.
Music was life. Memory. My whole existence.
I slowly opened my eyes.
I saw a familiar ceiling.
One side of the flickering fluorescent light was off, the other barely working. Cobwebs hung around it.
The air was damp and cold, with that musty underground smell.
I turned my head and looked around in a daze.
"…Huh?"
A graffiti image of Jason Mraz sprayed on a white wall caught my eye.
This was… my first studio.
The picture had been painted by a close friend as a gift when I first opened this place. He insisted it was Jason Mraz, but to me, it always looked more like my true hero, Michael Jackson. I loved that image all the more for it.
I shot up from the camp bed. The thin blanket I'd been using slid to the floor, but I didn't care.
"P-Phone."
My old smartphone was still charging on the bedside table. A Galaxia S.
Released by Oseong Electronics in June 2010, it was one of South Korea's first smartphones. It had been expensive, but as a composer, it had opened up a new world for me.
I could instantly record melodies or lyrics as they came to mind, and with a large-capacity SD card, I no longer needed to carry around an external drive.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
November 24, 2010.
2:22 PM – Clear skies.
The date displayed was from the distant past.
"...November 24, 2010?"
That couldn't be right.
I was sure I had been living in the year 2022.
I remembered clearly: entering SY Entertainment, spending 10 years there, quitting in 2021—and collapsing in my private studio.
Yet the date in front of me said otherwise. I was 12 years in the past.
Is this a dream?
People talk about dreams within dreams. I had definitely died in that pitch-black space.
"…This can't be real."
Reality? Death? Dream? Rebirth?
No matter how I looked at it, it was unbelievable.
I opened the internet browser. The old, green search portal greeted me, and the top trending keywords listed:
Yeonpyeong Island shelling.
Two marines and two civilians dead.
F-22 dispatched from Okinawa.
Foot-and-mouth disease outbreak in Andong.
Headlines from the past—clear proof.
I turned toward the mirror next to the wall graffiti. There, staring back with wide eyes, was a much younger version of myself.
Had I really returned to the past?
I lowered the phone and took in my studio.
My old desk was still there, along with the gear I used back then.
Kurzweil 88 keyboard, the old XV-3080 module, audio and MIDI interfaces.
I walked over in a daze and turned on the old computer tower.
Whirrrrr—
It vibrated loudly as it slowly booted up. The familiar Windows logo appeared on the monitor.
"Windows XP…"
Not just the OS—my DAW was Cubase 5.0. A relic by modern standards.
Thud—
I sank onto the bed, not even realizing I stepped on the fallen blanket.
This was the year 2010. The year I'd been discharged from the army and dedicated my life to music.
And the year I first got accepted by SY.
But this time, I wasn't starting fresh—I had all my memories intact.
Why had I come back? I didn't know.
But one thing was clear:
This was a chance.
A chance to start music again.
Thump—thump—
My heart pounded with excitement.
It was becoming real—this new opportunity before me.
"Heh, haha..."
Laughter escaped from my chest. So much I wanted to do. Where to start?
I jumped up and launched Cubase.
Dozens of my old project files were still there—some half-finished, some just scratch notes. Many were songs I'd written in frustration, unable to develop further.
But now, those same files looked like bags of gold in a treasure trove.
They would become masterpieces in the future.
I turned on the keyboard and grabbed the mouse.
Layered the bass and rhythm, built a sleek top-line melody.
Even with old VSTIs, I had no trouble expressing my musical ideas.
Actually, everything sounded more refined than it did 12 years ago.
Was music always this easy?
Or was it the experience I'd gained in my past life?
There were no creative blocks.
Satisfaction flowed through my entire body.
Yes. This was music.
Though I didn't believe in God, I silently gave thanks.
Thank you for letting me do music again.
"What time is it?"
I'd finished three full songs in a row. Stretching my sore body, I checked the clock.
November 25, 2010.
11:22 AM – Clear skies.
A whole day had passed.
I thought it had been just a few moments, but I'd been at it for nearly 20 hours.
Maybe it was my younger body, but my stamina was amazing.
And I'd written three full songs in a day…
"I'm a monster."
I stretched and stood up.
Right on cue—grrrr… My stomach growled.
In the past, I would've just ignored it and gone to sleep.
But not this time.
"Let's go eat."
One of the lessons I'd learned from my previous life:
Take care of your body.
I grabbed a coat and stepped out.