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Chapter 2
Caw, caw.
I heard the cry of seagulls. A damp, enchanting scent lingered at the tip of my nose. Drawn in by that fragrance I had missed so much, I lifted my eyelids as if in a trance.
This place…
A neatly kept hotel room. Outside the window, seagulls flew about peacefully, and beyond them, the sunlight glittered beautifully on the rippling water.
Why am I here…?
It was strange. I was certain I’d been hit by a car and lost consciousness. Yet I had woken up not in a hospital, but in a hotel room. Dazed, I slowly pushed myself out of bed.
Somehow this place feels familiar…
As I looked around the room, I spotted a large black suitcase sprawled on the carpet. A few simple changes of clothes, gochujang, and several packs of ramen. Beside it were a laptop bag and an acoustic guitar propped against the wall.
Wait. This is…
In my entire life, I had only ever packed a suitcase this big once. That’s why I remembered. It was exactly the same as the one I’d brought when I came to Liverpool to study abroad.
Come to think of it, this is the hotel at Queen’s Dock…
The very hotel where I had stayed for a week after arriving in Liverpool.
Am I dreaming?
There was no other way to explain it. I had just been hit by a car, and yet here was the very same scenery from six years ago, when I first came to Liverpool, England. As I looked around again, my eyes landed on documents on the desk, written in a mix of English and Korean.
Those are the documents I prepared for admission to LSPA.
A proof of funds, the letter of admission, an IELTS score report, and so on. They were identical to what I had prepared six years ago for studying abroad. As I fiddled with the papers on the desk…
“Ugh.”
I flinched at a sharp sting in my fingertip. A white cut had opened on my finger, and a red bead of blood began to well up. Why did a cut from a fluttering sheet of paper hurt so much? As I idly touched the reddening wound…
Wait.
A question surfaced in my mind. Could sensations in a dream really be this vivid? Come to think of it, the damp scent unique to Liverpool, and the warm feel of this wooden desk, were all too vivid.
If this isn’t a dream…
My eyes flew wide. My breath trembled as I let it out. I rushed frantically into the bathroom and checked my face in the mirror.
It’s really gone…
It was gone. The hideous burn scar that had covered half my face. Dazed, I raised a hand and felt my spotless, clear face. Soft, smooth skin with no ridges, a strange and unfamiliar touch. A chill ran up my spine.
Squeak. Splash.
I turned on the tap and began washing my face with icy water. Please, please let this not be a dream. Let it be real. I prayed desperately to a god I didn’t even believe in. How long had it been? My face, which I had been splashing frantically, went numb, and soon a pain like my skin tearing came over me. At that moment, I stopped my hands abruptly.
Even now, the sensation is so vivid…
Slowly, I lifted my head and looked at my face in the mirror again. Reddened from the cold water, but still flawlessly smooth.
It’s not a dream…
Emotion that I had barely been holding back surged up all at once. It wasn’t a dream. That awful burn scar had truly disappeared. And the room, the luggage, the documents, all of it told me one conclusion.
I’ve gone back in time…
Six years ago, to when I enrolled at LSPA, the performing arts college in Liverpool, England. I knew it was absurd. But was there any other way to explain all of this?
Then my voice, too…
I swallowed dryly and looked at myself in the mirror again. Then I parted my trembling lips and carefully let out my voice.
“Ah, ah…”
My breath didn’t scrape out roughly. The sound came out comfortably, with nothing catching anywhere in my throat. A voice so sweet that even to my own ears it sounded beautiful.
“Then… can I sing again?”
In that instant, relief rushed over me, along with a surge of all the grief I had stored up. After the respiratory damage from the fire had altered my voice, I’d thought I would never make a sound like this again. Bewildered, I gazed at my clean face in the mirror and carefully opened my mouth.
The time that has passed is like a dream. Though I can’t go back again.
Memories of those days are like reality. As if I could grasp them at my fingertips.
My voice shook with overwhelming emotion, but it was unmistakably natural, as smooth as silk, like speaking. How. How much I had longed to sing with this whole, unbroken voice. Hot tears welled up and blurred my vision. My heart began to pound uncontrollably. The passion I thought had died was rising within me. Like the lyrics of that masterpiece: if heaven allows it, if a chance comes, I would take a new hand. For music. For singing. It felt as if I had been given the chance to challenge my dream once more.
“Thank you… Thank you so much…”
My shaking voice mingled gratitude toward some unknown being, relief, the sorrow of all those years, and the swell of joy at the chance I’d been given again. I was so thankful, so happy, to the point of tears, that my desperately longed-for dream had been returned to me. How long had I waited for this moment, returning to bittersweet Liverpool and singing again?
This time, I will never give up on my dream…
The earnest wish I had believed impossible had come true like a miracle. I couldn’t repeat the past and live an unwanted life all over again.
First, I’ll protect my face and my voice. From that fire.
The fire that had taken my dream away occurred during the final vocal practical exam of my first year.
So this time I can avoid it. Maybe I can even prevent it from happening at all.
Even if I didn’t know the exact cause of the fire, I knew when and where it would happen. And that wasn’t all. I knew what would happen at LSPA from here on, and how to have a successful life there. I knew the people I would meet, and even how they would grow later on, all from my past experience. If I used that, then unlike in the past, when I had pursued nothing but learning at LSPA, I might achieve even greater things this time.
So until the day of the fire, let me focus on building those achievements.
For the greater opportunities and career I would seize later. To shine even brighter after safely escaping that nightmare day.
And someday, beyond LSPA and Liverpool, I’ll make my songs play all across Britain.
Just imagining it sent a thrill through my whole body. As my heart pounded fit to burst and a smile spread across my tear-soaked face…
Ring-ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.
A loud phone alert sounded. It was coming from the bedroom. I roughly wiped my eyes with my hand and followed the noisy alarm back to the bed.
Of course. Even the phone is the one I used back then.
A single phone sat on the nightstand beside the bed. A clunky design, with a case printed with musical notes. Exactly as I remembered it. With a delighted chuckle, I checked the notification on the screen.
[September 10, 20XX, 1 PM.]
[LSPA Opening Ceremony. Paul McCarney Grand Hall.]
Right. The opening ceremony was around this time. To see how many days were left until then, I checked today’s date. But…
[September 10, 20XX, 10:21 AM.]
“Huh…?”
It’s today.
I was flustered for a moment to learn the ceremony was today, but getting ready didn’t take long. All I had to do was shower, dry my hair, and throw on some clothes. When I had finished and was passing through the hotel’s front entrance, the manager greeted me with a businesslike smile.
“Oh, good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Heading out somewhere?”
At the manager’s question, I stopped and looked at him. He was the very person who, from the moment I first arrived, had told his staff to keep a close eye on me. This hotel stood at Queen’s Dock, a little way from Liverpool’s city center, and most of its guests were elderly locals who came to enjoy the view of the dock. Foreigners were rare. So when a young, black-haired Asian showed up hauling heaps of luggage to check in, I must have seemed suspicious.
That’s why, back then too, he greeted me with a smile while checking on my movements one by one, just like now.
Back then, I’d felt like I was being watched, so I had made my displeasure obvious and barely answered him. But the longer I stayed in Liverpool, the more I learned that in situations like this, it was wiser to dispel their suspicion than to ignore it. At the time, this wasn’t a place like London where many foreigners visited, and plenty of people were wary of strangers. But once you cleared away that suspicion, Liverpudlians showed a more honest and warmer side than people anywhere else in Britain. So I gave him a friendly smile and answered.
“I have my school’s opening ceremony today.”
He had thought of me as nothing more than a suspicious Asian, but at the words “opening ceremony,” the suspicion in the manager’s eyes gradually cleared.
“Oh, an opening ceremony? You’re a student? Which school? Liverpool University?”
“LSPA.”
“Oh, LSPA! Then are you into music, by any chance?”
“Yes. I sing.”
The manager broke into a wide smile, unlike anything he’d shown me until now. The world-famous band, pride of Liverpool. The comprehensive arts school founded by Paul McCarney of the Beetles. The Liverpool School for Performing Arts. Liverpudlians took great pride in having a school there that drew talent from all over the world. Maybe that’s why simply revealing that I was a student there had instantly won people’s trust. And sure enough, it seemed to work this time too.
“Oh! I hear it’s hard to get into LSPA for singing. You must be really talented! Where are you from? England? Or…”
“Korea.”
“Ah! Korea! I love kimchi too!”
Having gotten all the information he wanted about me, he chuckled as though I’d been crossed off his list of people to watch. Then he set a luxurious box of chocolates on the reception desk and slid it toward me.
“I was given some nice chocolates yesterday. Would you like to try one?”
It was a gesture of apology for having treated me as someone to be wary of until now. I looked at the box for a moment, then picked up a piece of chocolate.
“Thank you.”
The hotel manager smiled, relieved.
“I’m Derek. If you have any questions while staying at this hotel, or anywhere in Liverpool, just ask. Locals know the area best.”
At Derek’s words, I felt a little dazed. Unlike in the past, we’d exchanged only a few words, yet our relationship, which had merely brushed past each other in my previous life, seemed to be unfolding differently this time. As if a new fate were telling me that from here on, only good things would unfold in this Liverpool, as bittersweet as this chocolate.
“Thank you. I’m Seo Sinwoo. Please feel free to call me Sinu.”
“Ah, Sinu. An interesting name.”
Derek broke into a broad smile.
“Welcome to Liverpool, Sinu.”
