Jazz for Two: The Silent Beat

Episode 22: The Price of Freedom

Episode 22: "The Price of Freedom"

The music hall had fallen silent. The dissonant chord that Do Yoon and Ju Ha had played still hung in the air, reverberating faintly in their bones, but the oppressive presence of the curse seemed to have lifted. The walls that had once seemed to close in on them now felt strangely empty, as though the life of the building had been drained away, leaving behind only the hollow shell of what it had been.

But even in the quiet, the weight of what they had done hung heavily between them.

Do Yoon stood frozen, staring at the piano. His hand still tingled from the touch of the keys, but the sensation felt... wrong. It was as if the music was still inside him, clawing at his mind, refusing to let go.

Ju Ha stood next to him, his face pale, his shoulders tense. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—a mixture of relief and something darker, something that Do Yoon couldn't quite place.

"We did it, didn't we?" Do Yoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain.

Ju Ha didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the piano, his lips pressed tightly together. The silence stretched on, suffocating, as though neither of them wanted to acknowledge the truth. They had done what they had set out to do—the curse had been broken. But as the figure had warned them, the price had not yet been revealed.

Finally, Ju Ha turned to him, his gaze steady. "I think we did," he said, his voice heavy. "But..."

"But what?" Do Yoon asked, his heart racing.

Ju Ha swallowed, his jaw tightening. "I don't know, Do Yoon. Something doesn't feel right. The music... it's still here. Inside me."

Do Yoon's breath hitched. "Me too," he admitted quietly. "It's like it's woven into my skin now, like I can't get rid of it."

The weight of Ju Ha's words hung heavily in the air. Neither of them could escape it. The song—the music—was no longer just a curse. It was a part of them. Something they had absorbed, something they had become.

Suddenly, a chill swept through the room, and Do Yoon shivered. Was the curse truly over? Or had they just traded one form of it for another?

Ju Ha took a step back, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Do you hear it?" he asked, his voice strained.

Do Yoon paused, his body tense. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the quiet. And then, just as Ju Ha had said, it came—a faint pulse, a beat, like a distant echo, reverberating in his chest.

The heartbeat of the building, the very core of the curse, had never really gone away. It was still inside them.

"I hear it," Do Yoon whispered, his heart sinking. The sound was growing louder, more insistent. The music wasn't gone. It had never been gone.

Ju Ha stepped forward again, his expression hardening. "It's inside us now. It's... it's part of us, just like the figure said." His voice cracked with the weight of the realization. "We can't escape it. The curse didn't break. It... it transferred."

Do Yoon felt his stomach twist, the fear gripping him again. This wasn't over.

But then, as the realization set in, a new thought bloomed in his mind, unbidden and unexpected. What if they had always been part of the song? What if the curse had been with them all along, not just a haunting force tied to the building, but a living part of them—twisting, evolving, and entwining with their very souls?

Before he could speak, Ju Ha turned toward him. His eyes were fierce, burning with a mix of anger and something darker. "We need to go back," he said, his voice low and determined. "We need to finish this. We need to end the music. For good."

Do Yoon nodded, though a part of him hesitated. The desire to escape the pull of the song was strong, but at what cost? Could they really do it?

"Back to the heart of it, right?" Do Yoon asked quietly.

Ju Ha's lips twisted into something like a bitter smile. "We have no choice now."

The journey back to the center of the music hall felt different this time. The building seemed alive, its pulse resonating beneath their feet, and the walls—once cold and imposing—now seemed to breathe, as though they, too, were waiting. Waiting for them to finish what they had started.

Do Yoon's hand trembled as he reached for the door of the music hall. The presence of the building, of the curse, was suffocating, and every step he took toward it felt like they were walking toward an inevitable end.

When they reached the center of the hall, Ju Ha didn't hesitate. He marched straight toward the piano, but this time, his eyes were hard, focused. There was no fear in him now—only resolve. He placed his hands on the keys once more.

Do Yoon stayed close behind him, his breath shallow. The music began to stir again, but it wasn't the same as before. This time, the notes felt darker, deeper, as if the building itself was singing, not just a haunting melody but a roar, a primal force.

"Ju Ha... hyung, I don't know if we can do this," Do Yoon said, his voice wavering. He had never felt more vulnerable than he did in this moment, staring at Ju Ha's back, feeling the weight of the curse settling around them again.

Ju Ha didn't turn around. "We have to," he said. His voice was steady, but the pain behind it was evident. "If we don't finish this now... we'll never be free. Not from the music, and not from each other."

The last part of his sentence lingered in the air, a quiet admission of the bond that had formed between them through everything they had endured. It was a bond that had always been there, whether they realized it or not. But it had been built on lies, on half-truths, on things they could never take back.

But it was theirs now, and it wasn't something they could walk away from.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled. The building groaned as if it were waking up, as though it were alive, aware of what they were about to do.

The melody intensified, spiraling around them like a living entity. The walls shook, the air thickening with a pressure they couldn't escape.

"Do it," Do Yoon said, his voice barely a whisper. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Ju Ha, or to the music itself. "We have to do it now."

Ju Ha closed his eyes and, with one final breath, slammed his hands onto the piano keys. The sound was deafening, a cacophony of distorted notes that shattered the air. It wasn't a song anymore. It was a cry. A scream. A final note.

And then, there was silence.