My Child's Music Talent is Exceptional

Yeonwoo, who had just turned six, cautiously held his breath and opened the door.

Yeonwoo's room was a small space with a tiny window, commonly referred to in old houses as a "kitchen room," usually used as a storage area next to the kitchen.

Creeeak.

The door to Yeonwoo's room screeched unpleasantly, just like an old house, no matter how carefully he tried to open it.

Yeonwoo flinched in fear, but it was already too late.

"I told you to open your door carefully because I hate that sound, didn’t I?"

A woman sitting on the living room sofa beyond the kitchen glared at Yeonwoo and scolded him.

Seeing her, Yeonwoo only looked back with a timid expression.

The woman glared at Yeonwoo for a moment before turning her gaze back to the TV.

Watching her reaction, Yeonwoo quietly sat in front of the kitchen table.

His lunch was a leftover meal someone had partially eaten but not cleared away.

As if it were natural, Yeonwoo stuffed the half-dried rice into his mouth.

Bang.

In the middle of his meal, the front door burst open and slammed shut with a loud noise.

Yeonwoo hunched his shoulders at the sound.

"I'm back."

The person who entered was a middle-aged man.

His face was flushed, as if he had been drinking even in broad daylight.

The man frowned as he spotted Yeonwoo eating in the kitchen.

"For such a tiny brat, you sure don’t miss a meal. You’re nothing but a rice thief. Tsk."

At the man's words, Yeonwoo's face darkened like a drenched puppy.

He quickly stood up and began clearing the table.

"What the hell, have you been drinking in the middle of the day again?! Stop it already!!"

"And what, you think you can boss me around when you never even set a drinking table for me?"

Watching the two adults begin to argue, Yeonwoo hurriedly retreated into the small kitchen room.

They were his uncle and aunt.

Childless themselves, they had taken Yeonwoo in last year after his mother passed away.

Leaving their shouting behind, Yeonwoo let out a deep sigh inside his tiny room and stared at the window.

Sunlight poured in through the small window, too narrow for even little Yeonwoo to slip through.

When his mother was alive, they used to go on picnics to the neighborhood park on days with such nice weather.

She would pack lunch boxes with kimbap and bulgogi, which Yeonwoo loved.

But now, those were just memories of the past.

His mother had passed away from illness, and Yeonwoo had lost his voice from the shock, forced to endure life in his uncle’s house.

In this grim reality, this small room was the only place where Yeonwoo found solace.

As he sighed deeply, his ears perked up.

Though he couldn’t go outside to confirm, he knew that somewhere nearby, people played the piano.

It was probably from a music academy, as piano sounds would flow in through the window from early in the morning.

Yeonwoo got up and approached the window.

Though it was too high for him to see outside, the piano melody reached his ears more clearly.

Without realizing it, Yeonwoo closed his eyes and focused on the music.

His mother used to play the piano beautifully.

She knew every song, and even when Yeonwoo suddenly mentioned a tune, she could play it effortlessly.

Whenever he listened to her play, shimmering blue fairies would appear before his eyes.

They would dance in time with the piano melody.

The first time he saw them, Yeonwoo was terrified.

They were small and cute, but even as a child, he knew they were not of this world.

When he told his mother about them, she looked at him with a mixture of joy and sorrow.

"So you can see them now, too, Yeonwoo."

His mother could see them as well.

She explained that they were the fairies of music, spirits that loved melodies.

True to her words, they always appeared whenever music played, dancing and chattering in a language Yeonwoo couldn't understand, keeping him company.

At some point, they began to stay by his side constantly.

That was until he came to this house.

The fairies disliked being here with his uncle and aunt.

Now, the only time they appeared was when piano music played in the distance.

Unlike the fairies that had danced to his mother’s playing, these ones seemed clumsy, uncertain.

Still, this was the happiest moment of Yeonwoo's day.

Watching the fairies dance, he smiled in contentment.

But it didn’t last long.

"Hey, go buy some medicine!"

The door burst open, and with his uncle’s words, the fairies vanished instantly.

All that remained was his terrifying uncle.

Yeonwoo stood up and stared blankly at him.

His uncle narrowed his eyes as if to say, "What are you looking at?" before clicking his tongue and striking Yeonwoo’s head hard.

Yeonwoo crumpled to the floor.

"Oh, right. I forgot this brat’s a mute. If I’d known he was such a useless cripple, I wouldn’t have taken him in."

His uncle muttered irritably, ripped off the corner of a calendar, wrote down the name of the medicine, and handed it to Yeonwoo.

Clutching the paper, Yeonwoo headed out.

Yeonwoo couldn’t speak.

But he hadn’t always been mute.

It was selective mutism—caused by the shock of losing his mother.

His uncle never hesitated to hurl cruel words at him.

Each time, it drove another nail into Yeonwoo’s little heart.

But if he cared about that, he wouldn’t get drunk and beat Yeonwoo whenever he pleased.

Dragging his feet, Yeonwoo stepped outside and pushed open the rusted front gate.

Just as he did—

He saw people standing at the entrance.

As Yeonwoo stared blankly at them, they also examined him and exchanged glances.

What was going on?

Yeonwoo tilted his head in confusion when a woman with a gentle smile knelt to his level and spoke.

"Are you Yeonwoo?"

"……"

Yeonwoo nodded silently.

"I see. Yeonwoo, my dear, I’m from the Child Protection Center. The people behind me are police officers."

"……"

"We’re here to protect you."

Yeonwoo's eyes lit up as he looked at the woman.

Remembering the letter his mother had left him—one she had told him to give to someone who would help—Yeonwoo pulled it out from his pocket and handed it to them.

[This child has a father. The people he is with now have no legal connection to him.

Though I was unable to escape from them physically and emotionally, please, at least save this child.

If you have come to rescue him, please return him to his father.

His father’s name is Shin Ji-hoon…]

After reading the letter, the woman gently held Yeonwoo, while the police officers headed inside to deal with his uncle and aunt.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a ray of light shone into Yeonwoo’s dark world.

* * *

"...You still haven’t found them?"

—No matter how much we search, they don’t seem to be in Seoul or even the metropolitan area.

"So?"

—Well, if we expand the search to other provinces, it’ll cost more money…

"Hah… Alright. I’ll pay whatever it takes. Just find them."

Shin Ji-hoon, a promising employee at a major corporation, had spent years searching for someone—

His wife and child.

One night, after returning home from a late shift, they had vanished like the wind.

Despite tirelessly searching, he had found nothing.

He filed a missing persons report, but the police had been no help.

Though he had climbed the corporate ladder, becoming the youngest department head, and had enough money to move, he never left their old home.

Because what right did he have to live comfortably when he had lost his family?

And just when all hope seemed lost—

—A call came in.

—"Mr. Shin Ji-hoon, is that correct? This is the Child Protection Center."

—"Yes, this is him. What is this about?"

—"We have your son, Shin Yeonwoo, in our care due to a child abuse report. You are his father, correct?"

His son’s name.

His six-year-old son.

And in that moment, Ji-hoon learned a devastating truth.

His wife was already gone.

Her stepbrother, the son of that dreadful woman, had taken over after her stepmother’s death.

After she passed away, he had kept Yeonwoo, hoping to claim her insurance money.

It was an unbelievably vile family.

How could such monstrous people exist in this world?

And child abuse?

That man hadn’t even properly raised Yeonwoo.

Perhaps, in a twisted way, Ji-hoon should be grateful.

At least this had led him to his son.

After explaining the full story, Ji-hoon rushed to the Child Protection Center to reclaim his child.

There, he found—

“……”

A small boy, staring at him in silence.

A boy who resembled his beloved wife so much it hurt.

At that moment, the man once known as a ruthless, cold-hearted workaholic felt his heart crumble.

His child, so tiny and delicate, was painfully thin.

It shattered Ji-hoon even more.

But he didn’t cry.

He had searched for too long to break down now.

He couldn’t let his son see his tears.

Forcing down his emotions, he spoke with a trembling voice.

“Yeonwoo… Hi?”

There was so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

Still, this one thing—this, he had to say.

“I’m your dad… Yeonwoo. I’m so sorry it took me this long to find you. I’m so sorry.”

And with that, Ji-hoon couldn’t speak any longer.

The tears he had fought so hard to suppress finally spilled over.