Chapter 6

006. How about this? (1)

"Who do you think will win this competition?"

In the restaurant, filled with the indistinguishable sounds of slicing meat or plates, a few visiting professors gathered to enjoy a meal.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I heard Professor Kim from Hwayeon University of the Arts is on the judging panel, so it's probably going to be someone from that line, right?"

"Come on, Professor Choi from Seorim University of the Arts is also on the list. Do you think it will be that easy?"

Clearly, the topic of who might win had been brought up, but the professors were more focused on who would be judging.

This was as good as saying that the winner would depend on the judges.

Professor Yun, who had somehow ended up at this table, didn't want to join the conversation and silently continued to eat his meat.

But they weren't the kind of people to leave him alone.

"Didn't all of Professor Yun's students go to Hwayeon High School of the Arts this time? Your value must be rising, Professor."

The female professor who had asked about who would win the competition earlier was twirling her wine glass as she spoke.

The other professors nearby looked puzzled.

"Not all of them, right? There was one who went to a regular high school."

"Oh, the one who never participated in any competitions for four years?"

It wasn't that she didn't know; it was a pretense of ignorance, a way to find a flaw and cut him down.

"Why would someone like that even come to a gifted education center? This isn't some neighborhood cram school."

"Maybe they just don't have the skills to participate in competitions. There are those who just go through the motions, right?"

Each professor chimed in, and the female professor, having achieved her goal, smiled contentedly. Professor Yun stared at her intently.

His eyes were so fierce that the female professor flinched and gave an awkward laugh.

"Well, I was just curious. Just curious. Hehe."

"......I see."

Regardless, Professor Yun calmly swallowed the remaining piece of meat.

"Was it not to your taste?"

"Excuse me?"

Professor Yun, who had asked this as if it were a strange question, smiled slightly, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up.

"I have a class, so I'll leave early. Enjoy your meal."

He then turned and left the restaurant.

Outside, light snowflakes were falling.

On the opposite side, a large, pagoda-like roof was visible.

Professor Yun began walking in that direction, recalling an incident from the past.

Not long after he had started teaching.

He had taken Han Seoho to a competition.

Han Seoho, who had watched the performance with excited eyes, looked puzzled when the results were announced. He whispered,

"Clearly, the previous person played better, didn't they?"

It was just the thoughts of a young child. But it left him speechless, because it was true.

There were invisible lines between the participants and the judges. Thus, the puzzling results were not due to any particular bias but rather a matter of which school one attended and who they studied under.

Han Seoho looked very disappointed.

And that day, he told me,

"I don't think I need to participate in competitions anymore."

He was bold. I felt a bittersweet smile, but it didn't take a year for his confidence to be proven.

Han Seoho didn't need to participate in competitions.

He would surpass anyone who stepped on that stage.

In a world where people are often called geniuses, he was a child truly blessed by heaven.

Han Seoho was that child. Over the years of teaching him, there wasn't a day I didn't realize this.

Moreover, his efforts were relentless.

He looked at the piano as if he were always thirsty, playing it as if it were water.

The meeting of his absurd talent and relentless effort was like Beethoven regaining his hearing.

How much groundbreaking growth did he show?

Exactly three years later.

Professor Yun had no choice but to admit,

"There's nothing more I can teach you."

......But was that unbelievable growth the problem?

Like a rapidly burning wick, a sense of boredom began to show in Han Seoho.

The once eager look in his eyes had disappeared, and he seemed indifferent, like someone turning the last page of a book.

It was regrettable. It was a loss.

If he continued to grow like this, he would become a great light in the Korean music scene.

He would stand shoulder to shoulder with world-renowned pianists, showcasing his brilliant talent.

It felt as if these assumptions were already set in stone.

Han Seoho, that kid, was special.

Squeak.

When he arrived at the professor's office and opened the door, he saw Han Seoho sitting at the grand piano, playing.

Schubert's Erlkönig.

It was so difficult that it was said to form calluses on the fingers, but Han Seoho played it with ease.

Not just Erlkönig. Even Liszt's pieces, which others called a challenge, were just another piece for him, nothing more, nothing less.

As he thought this and walked in, Han Seoho stopped his fingers.

"Oh, you're here?"

Professor Yun, who nodded briefly, asked bluntly.

"How was the graduation ceremony?"

"Yes, and this was on top of the piano..."

Han Seoho, trying to suppress a weak smile, held up a gift box wrapped in silver paper.

Professor Yun added gruffly,

"I never said it was yours. Why are you holding it?"

"It was on the piano. But, isn't it mine? It says 'Congratulations on your graduation.'"

"I only have one or two students graduating."

"Is there another student named Han Seoho among them?"

Chuckle.

In the end, Professor Yun, who couldn't help but laugh, shook his head.

"You're starting to resemble Ji, becoming more and more sly. You used to be so respectful."

"Ah, that was years ago."

"Four years ago. At this age, you should still be trembling in fear of your professor."

Han Seoho laughed loudly when Professor Yun narrowed his eyes.

As his laughter subsided, Han Seoho's expression hardened.

Professor Yun noticed and crossed his arms, as if to say, "Go on, tell me."

Han Seoho, looking at Professor Yun with a complicated expression, finally spoke.

"I'm going to stop learning the piano after this semester."

"......"

I see. Today, then.

It was something he had expected, so he could remain calm on the surface.

Of course, his heart was filled with regret, but he didn't beg or plead.

He didn't sigh over how extraordinary his talent was.

Instead, he asked the most important question for his student.

"What will you do from now on?"

Han Seoho smiled.

With all the complex emotions cleared away, he said with a single emotion.

"Music. I'm going to do music."

"Music......"

Professor Yun, without realizing it, opened his dry lips.

All traces of regret and attachment had vanished.

His lips slowly curved upward.

At that moment, what Professor Yun saw in Han Seoho was

a thirst even greater than when he first came to learn the piano.

#

Snowflakes were falling.

I pulled my coat tighter against the cold and wrapped the scarf I received as a graduation gift from Professor Yun around my neck.

As I exhaled, a misty breath rose.

I slipped out of the building, cutting through the space.

A place I wouldn't return to. Well, that's not entirely true. I plan to visit occasionally, and I made a promise with Professor Yun to do so.

Still, it's a strange feeling.

It was a long and enjoyable time.

Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert......

Playing the works of these people, whom I once supported, was an incredible experience.

Now, it feels like they are supporting me with their compositions.

Communicating through music rather than letters is both thrilling and exhilarating.

Still, it was a choice I couldn't avoid.

At some point, I began to feel that this was not my music but theirs.

I wanted to create my own music.

I wanted to talk about fate like Beethoven and sing poems like Schubert.

Yes, I wanted to compose.

I wanted to express the endless inspiration that kept flooding in.

The Art Center, where snowflakes were swirling.

The city and people beyond it.

There are so many things to create into music once you step out of the score.

It doesn't have to be classical.

When I lived as Brinner, classical music was everything, but now there are countless derived genres.

......Is it greedy to want to do everything?

Smiling, I brushed off the snow that had accumulated and entered the cafe where my parents were waiting. My mother, who greeted me with a wide smile, asked first.

"Did you tell him?"

"Yes, I told him honestly."

At this, my father, who had been drinking the remaining coffee, stood up.

"Then it's my turn. I wonder what kind of nagging I'll hear today."

"It might be a long one today?"

Tsk. My father, who smacked his lips, turned around but then looked at me again, as if remembering something.

"Ah, right. I talked to your mother about it. About you wanting to study composition."

"Yes."

"How about coming to my company? You can come to the office after school. We have a small room that's currently used for storage, so we can set up some basic equipment there."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Your mother's."

"Of course, Mom! Thank you!"

I cheered and hugged my mother.

It was a welcome suggestion.

Playing music in a regular house, especially an apartment, is no easy task.

Because of the noise between floors, I had to close the piano lid after 9 PM. An electronic keyboard with headphones might be a solution, but it has many problems. First, it hurts my ears, the key feel is awkward, and most importantly, I haven't found a sound I like on a digital piano yet.

But with a studio? All problems solved.

Moreover, composers and performers will come and go at the company.

It's not a classroom but a professional environment. There's definitely a lot to learn.

"......It's my company, though."

My father, looking dejected, shook his head and headed to the professor's office,

while I chatted with my mother and drank apple juice.

Classical music is still playing here, but now I know all the titles and can play anything.

And now, I'm going to try making my own music.

"......"

It's a strange feeling.

I never thought that stopping something could be so exciting.

In the past, I was always anxious when quitting a job or changing companies.

Looking at the snow piled up outside the window, I thought.

I've lived two lives, yet there are so many things I'm experiencing for the first time.

#

A few days later.

I prepared to go out after receiving a call from my father.

The destination was SoundFilm Studio.

A place I used to visit occasionally when I was young, but today it feels different.

I know most of the employees by face, but I can't help but be self-conscious about my appearance. I feel like I should dress neatly.

What is this feeling? After some thought, it's like my first day at work.

I'm only given a small space in a corner of the office, but it feels like I've become a salaried employee with a salary contract.

"I'm going out."

"Okay, let me know when you arrive~."

I left with my mother's farewell. The company isn't far from home.

When I got off the bus and entered the quiet neighborhood, the first building I saw was a clean and tidy one.

I straightened my hair, which was blowing in the wind, and entered the building. An employee, who was passing by busily, stopped when he saw me.

"Welcome......? Oh?"

"Hello."

I smiled at the employee, who seemed to be buffering.

"Seoho......?"

"Yes."

"Is that you? Seoho! What! When did you grow up so much!"

Kim Yun-ju, the manager who handles overall scheduling and other non-musical tasks at the company, approached with wide eyes.

Following her, my father's junior, Park Jae-hoon, and other employees came out. My father, who was following behind, said,

"Indeed, he looks like his mother......"

"Right. It's a good thing......"

"Cough."

A cough was heard.

Oops. They might be upset. The employees, who were whispering, reluctantly added,

"Still, Seoho looks like his father in height......"

It felt like watching a sitcom, and I was laughing in the middle of it when Manager Kim made a meaningful gesture.

"Shouldn't we see the room?"

Right. The studio! A place where no one will come up, no matter how noisy it gets!

Manager Kim and the employees, who were singing a love house melody, led me to the end of the corridor and opened the door.

The inside was clean.

It wasn't large, but it was a perfect space for me to use alone. Plus, there was a high-end upright piano I had chosen myself from a music store.

It wasn't as good as the grand piano in Professor Yun's room, but it was a carefully selected one within the budget.

"How is it?"

When Team Leader Park, who was behind me, asked, I gave a thumbs up.

"It's great."

"Hehe, it's a bit small, but it's neatly organized. If you need any equipment, just let us know. Your father will buy it for you anyway."

He whispered the last part. My father, who chuckled, called the employees.

"Okay, let's get to work. Are you all not going to leave?"

"Seoho is now part of the office family, shouldn't we have a welcome party?"

"It could become movie music~."

My father, pretending to give in to the employees' requests, nodded.

"Then... only those who have time, let's do it simply."

"Great!!"

The employees, who cheered, said they would see me later and went back into the office,

and I, smiling, closed the door quietly.

......

Maybe because it was a room used for practice before.

The soundproofing is excellent. It's so quiet that it feels awkward.

I sat in front of the piano, which was placed alone. There was nothing around. Just a pencil holder with many pencils and thick sheet music.

I'm satisfied. When they offered to set up recording equipment, I asked for this. It's too advanced for me right now?

I don't even know why the master keyboard doesn't make a sound. Plus, there's a small box called an audio interface that's necessary because of latency or something......

It's complicated.

Of course, I plan to learn it gradually, but for now, a piano, sheet music, and a pencil are enough to create my music. It's also more familiar to me.

"Then, let's-."

I should try.

Anything.

I took a pencil from the piano and placed the sheet music in front of me, starting to think.

Where should I draw the first note?

Holding a pencil in one hand and sweeping the keys with the other, I sat there for a long time.

It's not easy once you sit down. Really.

"It's difficult......"

Among so many inspirations, where should I start?