Chapter 3

20-second Composition Genius, Becoming a Monster in 200,000 Seconds - Chapter 3

The Return of the Genius (1)

‘People… people are here!’

In the midst of endless pain, I didn’t particularly miss people. I just longed for this hell to end as quickly as possible.

However, when I first encountered the hellish environment and realized I could still create my own kind of ‘music’ there, my sanity returned, and I began to miss people.

The smell of people, the warmth of people, and the presence of someone to converse with, someone to listen to my music.

I missed all of that. And now, such a presence is right in front of me!

“Screeeeeam!”

I charged at the teacher without paying any attention to the screams.

Of course, I didn’t touch anyone. I wasn’t ready to touch people yet.

I just wanted to confirm that they were breathing just like me.

“Why… why are you doing this?”

About 10 cm. The distance between me and the other person.

An incredibly glorious distance!

“Did you eat something strange for lunch?”

It’s overwhelming.

Just seeing someone else move their lips, breathe, and speak is overwhelming.

“You’re beautiful….”

“Eh…?”

To be honest, I couldn’t really tell if this person was beautiful or not. My long stay in hell had overturned my original standards of beauty.

But now, I can’t help but say it.

Beautiful.

So beautiful.

“My heart feels like it’s going to burst.”

“…!”

A sudden silence.

And then,

“Gyaah!”

“Waaaaah!”

The cheers of the still somewhat immature students.

I felt elated.

Even the cheers are so beautiful!

However, that elation didn’t last long.

My attention was soon drawn elsewhere.

A cushioned chair and a body that looked like a wooden desk at first glance.

An instrument that music enthusiasts might look down on but is familiar to the general public.

An upright piano.

‘It’s a piano…!’

This time, no words came out.

I immediately rushed to the piano.

* * *

Lee Yerim, a composition teacher at Yeonhwa Arts High School, couldn’t understand the current situation at all.

It was an ordinary day. I had eaten cereal with milk for breakfast, driven my mid-size SUV to work, and finished preparing for the performance evaluation.

When I entered the practice room, everything seemed normal.

‘What is this…? What’s going on?’

Her mind was already filled with questions.

The performance evaluation for original compositions was proceeding smoothly. But everything changed when a certain boy stood in front of the piano.

He stood there blankly for 30 seconds, bowed his head, and then confessed his love to me.

‘Can something like this… happen?’

It’s true that young teachers often receive misguided affection from students, but does anyone do it so openly during class?

I can confidently say that such a student doesn’t exist unless they are being bullied.

So, at first, I was worried. But then, seeing him rush to the piano made me even more concerned.

His expression was one that could only be described as ‘mad.’

Lee Yerim took out her phone with trembling hands, intending to call 119 for an ambulance, but…

-Boom!

The deep sound of the piano made her hand pause.

“Eh…?”

It was just one measure.

Just one measure.

But she, who had already reached the level of an ‘expert,’ immediately recognized it.

‘What is this…’

The piece the boy was about to play was not ordinary.

Lee Yerim hesitated and then turned off the screen of her phone.

And then….

Ta-da-da!

The following harmonies and melodies captivated her.

‘What…!’

Kim Do-il.

Second year.

Scholarship student.

Composition major.

Lee Yerim already knew about the boy, Kim Do-il.

Since the composition major has few students, whether in MIDI or classical, it was easy to keep track of their activities.

Therefore, the change was even more significant.

‘Why has his piano touch improved so much?’

Piano is fundamental in the composition major. Students who can’t play the piano well can’t even get into Yeonhwa Arts High School.

But is piano everything? No, it’s not.

A certain level of proficiency. That’s what is required of composition students.

Do-il’s piano skills were barely above the cutoff.

‘His family’s financial situation wasn’t that good, they said.’

Not all, but most students at arts high schools live comfortably. Most have received private piano lessons since they were young.

If the family’s financial situation isn’t good, they won’t have the advantages that money brings, and their piano skills will naturally be lower.

But… his skills suddenly improved!

A deep touch that seemed like a different person, and a sustain control that fully expressed his emotions.

She was shocked.

She couldn’t help but be shocked.

‘Was he hiding his skills all this time…?’

Why?

The questions didn’t end there.

The most important ability for a composition major is the ability to create ‘music.’

Do-il’s performance evaluation scores were relatively good, but the music he played was different.

First, the chords were incredibly simple.

An infinite repetition of Bb F Gm F. In contrast, the melody that rode on top was complex and clear.

It felt like lying on a spring field on a refreshing morning, smelling the flowers.

The background was so vividly presented that it was overwhelming.

This… this can’t be.

‘…Is this made by a second-year student?’

It wasn’t the work of a student.

“It’s unbelievable….”

“What’s up with him all of a sudden?”

“Did he copy it from somewhere?”

As soon as the piece ended, chaos ensued.

It seemed that others had also noticed the change.

* * *

No matter how hellish the environment becomes, people always find some joy, even in the smallest things.

I found joy in hell, through music. I created various scenes in my mind.

Sunny days, rainy days, windy days, cities, deserts, snow-capped mountains, and streets at night.

I drew scenes in my mind through music and could momentarily escape the pain.

And now, I am unconsciously playing the piece I most often played in hell.

‘The sound is good.’

Good.

So good.

This is the equipment.

The overwhelming emotion of a long-awaited reunion, the gratitude for the clean sound, flooded my mind.

I felt like crying.

‘With this…’

I can create better music.

With paper and a pen, I won’t need to use the staff paper drawn with the monster’s blood anymore.

I can do anything I want.

‘Anything…’

Fatigue started to set in.

Still, I didn’t take my hands off the keys until the end.

This time, it’s different from before.

This time, I will definitely share my music with many people.

I will create the ‘ultimate melody’ I’ve always dreamed of.

“…”

82 seconds.

The playtime of the piece I played, my own composition.

And my vision blurred.

A deep darkness enveloped me again.

At first, I thought I had returned to hell. I thought everything I had seen so far was just a dream, a hellish pattern.

But it was the opposite.

…So, what I’m seeing now is a dream. I could tell immediately because I felt no pain when I pinched myself.

“This is….”

My home.

The scenery from my childhood.

In the living room of a small, 10-pyeong apartment, there was an old piano, its origin unknown. And in my snot-nosed days, I was enthusiastically hitting the keys.

‘That piano wasn’t a Yamaha, it was a YAMHO…’

Equipment is important. Pursuing good sound is natural for a professional.

But in those pure days, it didn’t matter.

I just enjoyed it.

I found pure joy in music and wanted to keep listening to it.

“I can’t listen to it.”

The out-of-tune notes and overly stuffed improvisation made me snicker.

With that level of skill, he wouldn’t even be able to get into a music middle school, let alone become a professional.

“But I played until the end.”

However, my past self just snickered back.

“I played until the end.”

“…”

“I didn’t run away in the middle.”

It’s like driving a nail into someone’s heart, worried that they might be a brat.

No, I was originally that kind of kid.

A fool who couldn’t distinguish between what to say and what not to say.

“Yeah… I get it.”

“You get it?”

“I get it.”

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“You got to touch the keys again.”

…It wasn’t just liking it; it was pure emotion.

At that moment, it felt like I was in heaven.

But I didn’t say it out loud.

Even in a dream, even to my past self, my pride was hurt.

But,

“This time, I’ll go all the way.”

As if reading my mind, my childhood self said.

“I’ll give you another chance.”

He said he would give me another chance.

“Please, let everyone in the world hear your songs and be moved. Let the wings that can change the world spread this time.”

“…”

“Let the innocent dream you had forgotten come true.”

And then, my eyes opened.

“The infirmary….”

The familiar school scenery, bathed in the setting sun.

I have returned.

From the hellish past life and the real hell,

On April 25, 2023, as a second-year high school student.