But it seemed that spring would come slowly in his life – maybe not at all. Looking back, there had hardly ever been a quiet day around him. No, from the moment he took his first breath, he was destined for a life that could never be quiet.

As long as he could see things others couldn’t, hear things others couldn’t – as long as he existed in a world that could neither be confirmed nor denied – silence was never meant for him.

For him, loneliness was inevitable.

He believed this without a doubt – until one day the sound of a gayageum drifted in from the next room.

That day, as always, there were arguments about whether or not to disown him. Despite the fact that it was a decision that would completely change his life, not one person bothered to ask him what he wanted. Instead, they insisted that he either agree to go on his own or hang on to the end – forcing their opinions on a head-injured patient.

This was not surprising or disappointing.

Hospitals are places of noise and chaos, of course, but when arguments break out in the same room every day, someone is bound to notice that something’s wrong – even if they don’t know the whole story.

This was certainly the case.

The medical staff on their rounds heard the raised voices and stepped in to intervene, but they were so careful that their efforts seemed more like gentle pleas for the family to be considerate so the patient could rest. It had little effect.

In fact, when the medical team left the room, the arguments only grew louder.

It was then that a deep pink cherry blossom petal suddenly began to flutter through the air.

In the cold of winter, it was a scene that could never happen in the natural order of the seasons. A moment so magical it felt like something out of a dream unfolded before his eyes. He stared blankly into the air, then slowly reached out and tried to touch the petal.

But it left no sensation on his fingers – and vanished as if it had never been there.

It had always been like that.

A spring that only he felt.

A spring he could not share with anyone, a spring he knew would soon disappear. It was beautiful in a way that hurt, sad and yet painfully beautiful.

So much so that, caught up in the sight of its faintly scattering petals, he didn’t even notice that the fighting had stopped.

The sound that drowned out all the noise in the hospital room was a gayageum playing a sad jinyangjo rhythm.

The relatives, who had been arguing for days without finding common ground, were surprised by the slow, somber sound of the gayageum coming at such a strange time.

“What’s this melodramatic nonsense all of a sudden?”

“Is it funeral music? Did someone die next door?”

No matter what the relatives whispered to each other, he focused only on the pink light that fluttered along with the melody. Normally, the Gayageum produced colors that were deeper and darker – shades of deep blue or purple. But strangely enough, the melody coming from the room next door carried a much lighter hue.

More specifically, it was a mysterious, delicate color that lay somewhere between violet and pink – shifting from one to the other. Perhaps that’s why it felt even more like a flower petal.

Caught up in the somber mood of Gayageum’s melody, the quarrel between the relatives gradually fizzled out that day.

From then on, whenever his relatives raised their voices again, the anonymous patient in the next room would start plucking the Gayageum and quietly chase away the unwelcome guests.

With that, peace returned to his heart.

In the process, he came to a realization: if he couldn’t be granted pure white emptiness, then there was another way – to cover the entire world with a single color.

Silence didn’t have to be white.

Leaning on the melody of the Gayageum, he breathed in the pink spring the music brought him. In a desolate situation no different from that of a prisoner, the only beauty he could enjoy was the sound of the Gayageum drifting in from the next room.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, matching the slow tempo of the melody. His heartbeat gradually slowed. Finally, he felt that he could breathe.

At the same time, a question blossomed in his mind:

Who is the person playing this gayageum?

The doctors and nurses remained tight-lipped about the patient’s personal information, but when he mentioned hearing the sound of a gayageum, they let slip a small detail.

“Oh, now that you mention it, I heard that the patient in the next room is a student of traditional Korean music. It sounded like they were practicing for a competition. Was it too loud? Should we ask them to be more attentive?”

“No, I actually enjoy the sound of the Gayageum.”

“Right? You can really tell the difference when someone’s a professional. I once had a pianist who lived upstairs-it was a treat for the ears every day. Even when they played casually, it never felt like noise.”

Whenever the pink petals seemed to swirl in the air, he would leave his bed and lean against the wall, quietly soaking up the spring feeling.

And sometimes, through that very wall, he could faintly hear conversations drifting over.

The gayageum player in the next room was probably about his age – or maybe a little younger.

As far as he could tell, she was a woman. Her voice was blue like the sea, gently rolling in and out like waves. He thought it was a beautiful voice.

Occasionally, when someone came to visit her, they called her Hyun-seo.

‘Hyunseo?’
Was that her name?
Kim Hyunseo? Park Hyunseo? Choi Hyunseo? Jung Hyunseo?

He could have easily found out her name by checking the nameplate outside her hospital room – but he was unable to do so, confined and unable to take a single step beyond his own door.

He had no desire to ask the guards who watched him day and night to check the nameplate next door.

During his stay in the hospital, time seemed to stand still. Yesterday was like today, and today would be like tomorrow. There was nothing to look forward to in the days to come.

But Hyunseo-even in the monotony of hospital life-never seemed to forget the small sense of wonder that winter could bring. From time to time, she would play Christmas carols on her Gayageum.

There is a certain power in music that taps into shared emotions, and as he listened to the cheerful carols she played, he found himself remembering Christmases past – and the year that was slowly coming to an end.

However, the gayageum player who had shown him the source did not stay there for long.

He heard the news of her release through a phone call coming from the other side of the wall.

“Auntie, it’s okay. You don’t have to come get me. If you leave the shop because of me, there won’t be anyone to help you. I don’t have much luggage anyway, so I’ll just call a taxi and go by myself. Really, don’t worry. I’m all better now, so it’s not too hard. Yes, if it really becomes a problem, I’ll call you first thing in the morning.

Hyunseo left the hospital alone, happy and confident.

He stood at the window facing the hospital entrance and watched her from behind as she walked away.

Looking back, although he had listened to her Gayageum and even heard her voice, he had never really tried to imagine what she looked like.

Therefore, seeing Hyunseo as a real person in his field of vision was strangely fascinating.

Hyunseo was a fairly tall student. Her hair was tied up in a single ponytail, and she wore a padded jacket over a pair of gym shorts – a look that was unmistakably typical of a student.

What allowed him to recognize her from behind was the long Gayageum case slung over one shoulder. Carrying the black instrument case and pushing a medium-sized suitcase, she walked to the hospital entrance and got into a taxi waiting outside.

The farewell between two hospital patients – one whose face or full name he never knew – was quiet and unremarkable.

And finally, his adoptive grandfather reversed his decision to disown him.

It was the culmination of years of subtle whispers from his adoptive parents about his many talents, combined with his perfect score on the college entrance exam that proved his worth.

Only after his place in the family was reaffirmed was he finally allowed to leave the hospital and be released from his confinement.

Even after all that, he often found himself wondering—

Who exactly was Hyunseo, the one who had comforted him with music during his confinement?

She was described as a student, so she probably wasn’t someone who had performed on big stages yet.

However, it would take him a long time to find the answer to this question.

Although the decision to disown him had been reversed, his status had been downgraded from biological grandson to adopted grandson.

From then on, he became the target of constant caution and opposition from his cousins.

Perhaps deciding that there was no longer any need to maintain the appearance of being a “good older brother,” even Lee Jae-hyup, who had seemed more composed than the second eldest, gradually dropped his mask.

If Lee Jae-kwang was the type who openly brought in drugs and threw wild orgies, then Lee Jae-hyup was the type who used his gentle appearance to set traps for anyone who caught his eye.