Chapter 2

2. Gioioso (Joyfully)

A headache that felt like my head was going to split open came over me.

“Ugh...”

Without realizing it, a groan escaped my lips.

Naturally, my hand rose to press firmly on my temples, in response to that disgusting pain.

Suddenly, I felt something strange on my shoulder.

“Hey, Seonghyun, are you okay? Hey! T, Teacher!”

I managed to lift my heavy eyelids to see a child’s face, pale as a sheet.

“Teacher! Seonghyun’s face is turning blue!”

“What?”

Teacher?

Following the loud voice, I barely managed to turn my head and saw my homeroom teacher and the advisor of the classical music club, a young female teacher.

Right, I had taken the entrance exam for the arts high school at her strong recommendation and ended up being admitted to Mihyang Arts High School.

But, wasn’t this teacher my homeroom teacher from my third year of middle school?

“Seonghyun!? Can you see me? Seonghyun!”

The teacher, her face in a panic, was shaking me.

Ah, I’m dizzy, stop it, my head is ringing...

I barely managed to suppress the rising nausea and closed my drooping eyelids.

After that, I couldn’t remember anything clearly.

Scenes from my alma mater flashed and disappeared like cut-out photos.

Before Mihyang Arts High School,

I saw myself smiling whenever I played the piano.

Before I collapsed under the criticism and numerous pointers at Mihyang Arts High School, I was in the happiest period of my life with the piano.

I was the college student, Seonghyun Lee, who experienced both despair and a miracle from Kim Minho’s performance and didn’t leave the practice room day and night.

The orchestra, Queen Elisabeth, and the child I met at Christmas.

Many memories swirled in my head like a storm.

And then, music tickled my ears.

‘The Maiden’s Prayer’

Due to the middle school principal’s love for classical music, our school played this music instead of a bell.

When I finally came to my senses, my eyes snapped open.

The ceiling of my middle school.

As I slowly sat up, the headache was completely gone.

Blinking, I repeatedly opened and closed my hand.

“It’s gone.”

There was no sign of the calluses that had deeply embedded themselves in my hands from 20 years of playing the piano.

Could it be that I really went back in time?

It would be more convincing if all this was just a fleeting memory.

Without hesitation, I got out of bed and left the empty infirmary.

The orange sunset visible through the window.

I could tell it was quite late, and all the students had already gone home.

However, that wasn’t very important to me.

Whether this moment was really time travel or just a fleeting memory, the place I was heading to wouldn’t change.

-The music room

A quiet classroom on the opposite side of the second-floor principal’s office.

Using the spare key known only to the classical music club members, I opened the door to find the grand piano that had been provided with the principal’s generous support.

Ding-

I pressed the clean, dust-free keys.

The low notes were strong, and the touch was heavy, producing a deep resonance.

I couldn’t tell if it felt heavy because the finger muscles that had been embedded in my hands were gone, or if it was a characteristic of this grand piano.

But one thing was certain:

“I can play.”

The fact that I could play the piano.

(Debussy. Clair de Lune)

The piece I wanted to play first if I ever held a beautiful solo concert like the genius Kim Minho.

Unlike the brilliant Arabesque No. 1 he played at the graduation ceremony, this music had a melancholic and subtle tone.

The elegant and cold moonlight that Debussy saw sounded a bit different to me.

It was as if the moonlight was telling me that I was still here,

that I hadn’t disappeared yet.

To me, the moonlight was like an accompanist’s plea.

Always precarious, but constantly struggling not to lose its color, a loneliness and fragility.

At the solo concert, I wanted to say this to a pianist as bright as the sun.

“I want to be like you.”

It had always been my desire since the graduation ceremony.

“Haha.”

After a performance that lasted less than five minutes, a hollow laugh escaped my lips.

My fingers were too short to play the chords properly.

I felt fatigue in my entire body from just a short performance.

I felt like I was going to sweat from just one song.

“It’s a mess.”

My underdeveloped fingers couldn’t fully press the keys, making the sound blurry.

The notes that should have resonated were shortened, and the ones that were easy to reach were too strong, so I couldn’t even follow the score.

Still,

it was enjoyable.

My smile bloomed in sync with the resonance of the keys, as if waiting for it.

The joy of expressing my interpretation in the performance was pounding in my heart.

Click!

While I was smiling with a sense of fulfillment from the aftertaste of the piano, the music room door suddenly opened.

“Huh?”

A man looked at me with wide, surprised eyes.

“Did you just play the piano?”

“Huh? Oh, yes.”

He seemed familiar.

As I looked at him with a puzzled expression, he said, “Ah,” as if coming to his senses.

“I’m not a weirdo, I’m just here at the principal’s request.”

Misinterpreting my gaze as suspicion, he smiled kindly to reassure me.

“More importantly, did you really play Debussy just now?”

“Huh?”

It was my turn to be surprised.

To mention the name of a musician right away...

This person was definitely knowledgeable about music.

A strong jawline, a straight nose, and a face that would look quite fierce if he frowned, even though he was smiling now.

Ah!

“Senior Jeongseok?!”

I almost didn’t recognize him because he looked so young. A senior from Mihyang Arts High School who always gave advice during competitions.

Why is he here?

“Senior?”

“Ah! No, I misspoke.”

I gave an awkward smile and tried to smooth over my sudden outburst, and Senior Jeongseok seemed to think it wasn’t important and asked,

“Anyway, friend, when did you start playing the piano? I don’t remember seeing you at the junior competitions.”

How should I answer?

If I said I’ve been playing for 20 years at this age, I’d be considered crazy...

I decided to be honest and say that I played the piano as a hobby before entering Mihyang Arts High School.

“No, I haven’t had formal lessons yet, but I really love the piano.”

Senior Jeongseok’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Never had formal lessons?”

“Yes!”

“Ah, where’s the score? Did you play by memory?”

Seeing Senior Jeongseok’s third shocked expression, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I love Debussy.”

To think I could surprise a senior who had never given me a second glance when I was a failing student.

The joy of playing the piano and the different pleasure of surprising him made my face bloom with a smile again.

Senior Jeongseok asked me various questions after that.

How I got into Debussy,

if I was the classical music club member who left early today due to illness.

Why I love the piano.

I answered each question from Senior Jeongseok with a happy heart.

Eventually, time passed.

The sunset outside the window was almost gone, and it was time to leave.

When I mentioned this, Senior Jeongseok asked me one last question.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Senior Jeongseok, looking at me directly, asked for my name.

“I’m an accompanist.”

“What, what did you say?”

“Just kidding. I’m Seonghyun Lee.”

I answered and bowed deeply, giving a greeting appropriate for my age, and left.

The fact that I might not be Accompanist A anymore made my heart race.

“Seonghyun...”

And I thought I heard a very soft but clear voice from behind.

***

“Seonghyun!”

The voice I heard on my way back to the infirmary. A clear and melodious voice, more so than in my memory, belonged to my mother.

“Huh?”

As soon as she saw me, she ran over and hugged me.

It had been over two days since we last spent time together after I became obsessed with the piano, and the warmth of my mother’s embrace was truly the first in 20 years.

“Are you okay? I heard you suddenly collapsed.”

My mother looked at me with such warmth and concern.

Thinking about the times I only sent money instead of visiting her, I felt a lump in my throat.

“Mom...”

My words were cut off, and my mother, looking at me with wide, startled eyes, stroked my cheek and head.

“Are you okay? Seonghyun. Are you still in pain? Should we go to the hospital? I’m sorry I was late.”

“No, it’s just that my throat is a bit dry.”

I quickly composed myself, smiled, and looked at my mother.

In my previous life, our relationship had dried up because I only sent money, but I didn’t want that to happen this time.

I promised myself to try not to make her suffer with the arts high school and college tuition this time.

***

Jeongseok was still standing in front of the music room door, looking at the warm grand piano.

“Seonghyun... Seonghyun Lee.”

Expressing emotions through music is not an easy task.

Even talented prodigies only learn to express emotions in a piece after entering the arts high school, going through dozens of failures, and hundreds of practices.

‘I love Debussy.’

Just thinking about it gave him goosebumps.

The pure smile of someone who loves music so much, and the endless loneliness and desperation in the performance.

How could a 16-year-old express such heavy emotions through the piano?

Before seeing his face, Jeongseok thought it was a lonely 40-year-old pianist playing.

“A 16-year-old, who hasn’t even had formal lessons, playing like that?”

A true prodigy.

Moreover, Seonghyun wasn’t lying.

Jeongseok could see that Seonghyun’s hands, which should have had calluses from playing the piano, were smooth.

“It’s real.”

He had really met a true prodigy.

A raw gem that could shine instantly with just a little polishing of the basics!

Jeongseok felt his heart racing with excitement.

“Mr. Kim! There you are.”

A voice from behind Jeongseok, the middle school principal with a half-bald head.

“Ah, Principal, what is it?”

“I was worried when you didn’t come back after 30 minutes of going to the bathroom, so I came to look for you.”

“Is it that late already? I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. But, Mr. Kim, could you please listen to our classical music club one more time? There’s not a single student applying to Mihyang Arts High School! Please, just one more time. The students today are in poor condition...”

The principal, trying to find potential students for Mihyang Arts High School again.

“I have someone.”

A topic that would have made him sick just a moment ago, but Jeongseok confidently interrupted the principal.

“I found one.”

“Really? Who? Who is it?”

Jeongseok turned to the principal and smiled triumphantly.

“Seonghyun Lee.”

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