MCMH | Chapter 1.2

“Cherry, can you live without music?”

“Um… I get it!”

I answered quickly, but I only half understood. I suddenly thought maybe I’m living better without music right now.

I hate and don’t believe in heaven, but I think parallel universes might exist.

If there are parallel universes, in one world, there’s a me who doesn’t do rock and whose mom didn’t die. To that Cherry, who’s probably living well, I send a middle finger.

“By the way, have you been to the hospital? You said you’ve been dizzy lately.”

“It’s just old age. I’m fine.”

Jasmine Grandma wasn’t in a good situation either, so I couldn’t insist.

“Grandma, you have to live long.”

“I don’t want to. You go when it’s time.”

Today, she packed me an empanada again. She, who survived alone in New York after her children and husband died as soon as they came from the Philippines, was a saint to me. A saint who gives warm bread.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Of course, Oliver didn’t want to introduce me to the person who gave him the job. It seemed like he genuinely didn’t know.

I took the job. Even if it’s dangerous, opportunities to make this much money don’t come often.

“Just deliver this.”

I received a yellow paper bag about two spans high and a note with an address. It wasn’t far from here.

“It’s really not drugs, right?”

“I told you it’s not! Damn. If you don’t want to do it, don’t.”

“No, no. I’ll do it.”

I turned and left the street. Since I took it, it was better to finish quickly and get paid.

But my thoughts were in vain as I soon ran into gangsters.

Living on 125th Street, I roughly knew which paths gangsters took and when. But they’re human too, so they can’t always live by plan.

I tried to sneak away to another place, but they had already spotted me.

“Cherry. Come here.”

In times like this, there’s no choice. You have to speak honestly and beg for mercy.

They’ll probably ask to see what’s in the bag. Or they might demand the advance payment. They know I sometimes get errands from Oliver.

But as I got closer, I noticed something was off.

“They’re on drugs…”

Roaming the streets high on drugs as a group. They’re gutsy.

And people high on drugs are several times more dangerous than usual.

I glanced at the guns and knives in their hands and cautiously looked around. As always, there was no good escape route. Why is it that everywhere I go ends up being a dead end?

Among the dazzling night streets of New York, the darkest and dirtiest path was the one I stood on.

“Do you want some? Let’s do it together. Huh?”

“I, I….”

At a glance, their eyes were gone, indicating it wasn’t ordinary drugs.

I tried to say I was fine, that I don’t do drugs I’ve never seen before, but one of them grabbed my hand.

As I was dragged, I held onto the paper bag tightly, hoping to get out of this safely.

“Cherry, if you won’t do drugs, at least clean the syringe.”

One of them held up a syringe and pretended to lick it. They wanted me to do that.

There aren’t many ways to escape in such situations. But fortunately, I’m a well-known male prostitute on 125th Street.

“I, I can clean something else instead of the syringe.”

I said awkwardly with a smile, and they laughed. Whatever was so funny, they laughed so hard they almost choked.

At that moment, I realized. I couldn’t communicate with them. And it was impossible to get out of here safely.

“So, just take turns… or, it’s okay to do it all at once….”

The one with the syringe approached. Another one grabbed my hand, and my body was completely restrained.

And that’s where my memory ended.

When I woke up, it was dawn, and the gangsters were gone.

Of course, the paper bag I was holding was gone too.

I got up, putting on my clothes in the midst of a terrible headache. I was no different from the trash rolling on the street.

The smell of semen was strong in my mouth. Since my pants weren’t taken off, it seemed I wasn’t assaulted below. Today’s lesson is that being good at oral can prevent rape.

‘But what excuse do I give Oliver….’

I wanted to cry, but I held back and laughed instead. Like the guys I saw yesterday, I laughed crazily.

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Oliver demanded an absurd compensation, saying he was in trouble because of me.

“Is it possible for me to work for free for a while?”

I asked cautiously, as it was money I couldn’t repay in a lifetime, and Oliver scoffed.

“What you lost this time is the mafia’s stuff.”

I shut my mouth at the word mafia. No wonder he demanded 40,000 dollars; it was really a big deal.

“…Then maybe I can earn little by little….”

“I don’t know. I’ll tell them about you, so handle it yourself.”

Oliver cut me off, waving his hand dismissively. I was bewildered.

“What? Then I….”

“Sorry, Cherry. I have to look out for myself too.”

I understood his point, so I couldn’t get angry. I stood alone in front of the theater, dazed for a long time. The people passing by left afterimages like exposure photos.

How could I gather 40,000 dollars? Even selling my organs wouldn’t be enough.

Even in this situation, my body, injected with unknown drugs, was causing severe nausea and stomach pain. I had no idea what they put in me.

I hid in the alley behind the theater, holding onto the wall, dry heaving. Having eaten nothing since last night, I was weak.

Dragging my body, unable to vomit or eat, I went to Jasmine Grandma. I wanted advice from her. I felt she would know what to do in this situation.

But Jasmine was unconscious, collapsed in the living room.

That day, I realized. As Grandma said, some lives are so insignificant that they break in an instant.

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Jasmine Grandma was hospitalized. They said something about a brain disease due to old age, but the words were too difficult for me to understand.

Lying in bed, Jasmine looked very small. Her unconscious body was connected to various equipment and drips.

Jasmine has no family. Like me. So there was no one to contact. I became Jasmine’s guardian.

Just as Jasmine became the guardian of orphaned me when I was young.

When I went outside, the sun had already set. Even though I hadn’t eaten all day, I wasn’t hungry. Instead, I just felt nauseous.

While taking care of Jasmine, I composed in my head. Without a guitar or notebook, I had no choice but to do it in my mind. It would be nice to have a phone or tablet PC, but a beggar like me wouldn’t have such things.

But composing in my head was familiar to me, so it wasn’t particularly difficult. In fact, it was the easiest. My mind was the most comfortable notebook for me.

I slightly raised my hands and placed my fingers on an imaginary keyboard. Tapping the air, I created a melody and simultaneously added lyrics.

When will this place brighten up
Days crumbling one by one
The holes are not at fault

Humming the lyrics to myself, the scales naturally refined themselves. The notes I spontaneously uttered found their place on their own.

Futures moving from tonight to tomorrow night
Walking, feeling the walls
The drawn gap is the only handle I have

The change in chords is like gentle waves. No matter how fancy the song, it is. All chords flow within one ocean.

This was the composition method spoken by the famous composer Cain.

Cain wrote several hit songs using this method. He is now a world-renowned artist.

He’s a man worthy of being called a genius. I watched an interview video, and his face is incredibly handsome.

“Not just handsome, but so good-looking it makes your head spin.”

I envied him. His genius sensibility, outstanding looks, and a beautiful body that seemed never to have been tainted.

Cain is an odd-eye. His right eye is brown, and his left eye is a bright ice blue. However, his eyes are the least special thing about him.

The next least special thing might be his platinum blonde hair. The color was so pretty it seemed more fitting for a celebrity than a composer.

But Cain once stated in an interview that he would never sing his own songs.

It’s a shame. Rock would revive if someone with a face like that did rock.

Anyway, Cain is as famous for his looks as he is for his talent. It’s proof that God isn’t fair. He’s also very tall and has a great body.

I wondered what a life having everything would be like. I wanted to experience it just once.

Every artist wants to receive a song from Cain. But it’s been a while since he released a new song.

Some say Cain is in a slump, and others say he’s addicted to drugs and not working. Both are nonsense. Cain is a hero. He’s probably just taking a break.

If I had a song from Cain, could I succeed? No artist has failed with his songs, so do I have a chance?

But then again, who knows. Someone as insignificant as me might ruin even a song given by Cain.

I imagined uploading a video of me singing my original song on SNS, as Sandy suggested, and Cain accidentally seeing it and laughing.

Feeling unpleasant, I stopped the fantasy and focused on the sheet music in my head again.

After creating about half a song in my mind, I looked at Jasmine again. Her pale face looked painfully like a broken melody.

Even in this situation, it was time to go to my part-time job. I held Jasmine’s sleeping hand and told her to get better.

“Live a little longer, Grandma. At least until I’m sure I don’t have to leave New York.”

As I left the hospital, the dazzling lights stung my eyes. I led my shabby body into those lights.

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Sandy was also saddened to hear about Jasmine. Even though they never met, I had mentioned her as an adult I relied on a few times.

I acted like it was nothing, but my mind was a mess. The mafia Oliver mentioned might contact me soon. I also had to figure out how to handle Jasmine’s hospital bills.

The pizza place was busy as usual. While delivering, I was on edge, checking if anyone was calling for me.

When would the mafia come for me? What would I have to give them? I had nothing, so it was hard to predict.

Watching pretty Sandy working hard, I suddenly wondered.

Would it be more terrifying if my dad found me and yelled about why I let mom die, or if I had to repay the mafia for life?

After the rush hour ended and the place calmed down, I asked Sandy.

“Hey… if you get famous on that TokTik thing, can you really make money?”

Sandy was surprised for a moment, then gave me a thumbs up. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled.

“Trust me.”

As soon as the part-time job ended, Sandy dragged me onto the subway to a hotspot she mentioned.

A sense of foreboding clouded my mind, but I ignored it.

After all, premonitions have never been on my side.