Birthday Party (1)
"Isn't that the boy you kept bragging about? The one who's supposedly so good at acting?"
"Yes! Hajin is the best actor in the whole world. Um, he's super handsome too, so all the girls only look at him. He has a pretty voice, and… he tells me I'm the prettiest, and whenever he calls he tells me I'm not ugly, and then…"
Director Han Jae-ryong stared at his daughter, marveling as she bubbled over with praise for this boy.
Ever since he'd separated from his wife, Sora hadn't just lost their conversations—even her expressions of emotion had faded to almost nothing. He had never once seen her talk about another person like this.
Wasn't this exactly the reaction of a girl head over heels in love?
Who is this kid, that Sora acts like this? She's far too young to be showing a boy this kind of reaction.
Forget the commercial. He decided he needed to see this ridiculous little brat with his own eyes.
The trouble was, a film director like himself and a child appearing on a kindergarten TV show had absolutely nothing in common.
I can't exactly just tell him to show up out of nowhere…
As he watched his daughter happily firing off questions at her agency's CEO, a good pretext suddenly came to mind.
"Sora, your birthday's in two weeks, isn't it?"
"Yes, Dad."
Last year he hadn't been able to celebrate it at all because he'd been shooting on location overseas. He'd been thinking maybe they'd take a trip together this year, but an even better idea had occurred to him.
"How about a fancy birthday party? You can invite Hajin and all your other friends."
But Sora's expression didn't brighten quite the way he'd expected.
"It would be nice if Hajin came over, but… the only friends I have to invite are Yujin and Jungwoo."
Three or four kids wasn't really enough for a proper party. He'd known she was such a quiet child that she didn't have many friends, but he hadn't realized it was this bad.
"I'll take care of that part. You invite everyone you can think of. Especially Hajin—make sure he comes."
Director Han Jae-ryong resolved to call in his connections for the first time in ages. And it was all that ridiculous little brat's fault.
Achoo!
In the same block of time, Hajin—who was busy building a castle—sneezed.
"Who's talking about me?"
The butterfly effect from failing that audition turned out to be bigger than I'd expected.
"A different commercial?"
"That's right. Director Lee Joo-young called a little while ago."
Mom was beside herself with excitement. Judging by her reaction, it was clearly something bigger than the Oh Sung Techwin spot.
"What kind of commercial?"
"Oh, well… TTN, they said. A TTN commercial!"
It made sense for her to be this worked up. It was a massive catch, in a completely different league from some camera ad. There wasn't a soul in the country who didn't know it—quite literally a national advertising campaign.
So if I'm in it, the entire country will know my face. That's why Director Lee wanted to see me act—he was taking my measure for this.
I'd been curious why he'd ask me to perform for a commercial he had no intention of casting me in. Now I had a chance to swim in far bigger waters than I'd imagined.
"Han Sora might be in it too. They said her parents are in talks."
"Sora?"
When we'd talked during my audition, she'd told me she'd never done a commercial before. She'd said her father wouldn't allow it—so how was she planning to persuade him?
At that point, I had no idea that the bargaining chip for that persuasion would be me.
On the set of KBC's Wagle Wagle Kindergarten—
"Hajin, here…"
Sora held out a cute little card.
"What's this?"
"An invitation to my birthday party."
Ah. Right, obviously I had to accept—and the moment my fingers closed around the card, a brilliant light wrapped itself around me.
It was the third time now, so I barely flinched; I simply let it carry me away.
Bow tie, suspenders, the whole ensemble—the outfit of a young lord from a wealthy family. I was seated at a piano, gazing up at a small stage, where Yujin stood in a gorgeous, elaborately styled dress.
What's going on here?
A crowd of what looked like audience members surrounded us. From an elderly gentleman to children my own age, all sorts of people were waiting for our performance.
I gave Yujin a nod and began to play.
This song…
One so famous you could recognize it from the intro alone.
From the very first measures, Yujin's soprano and my low register intertwined sweetly. Chord upon chord stacked in seamless layers, capturing the eyes and ears of everyone watching. Her voice glided deftly across its sweeping range, riding my voice as its bass, while the fairytale lyrics carried on a restrained rhythm made the climax all the more lush.
The ending, perfect for gathering up all that lingering resonance, was swallowed whole by a storm of applause.
It was a magnificent performance—nothing about it could have been better.
At the fading edge of the light that enveloped me one more time, I saw Sora's face, anxious, waiting for my answer.
"Thank you for the invitation. I'll definitely come."
Her smile bloomed more beautifully than it ever had before.
The song I'd performed inside that vision was 'Magic of the Castle,' the beloved classic released in 1994.
The most famous version was the boy-soprano rendition sung by a middle schooler, but what Yujin and I had sung was the acapella version. Two years from now, a famous boy group would release an acapella-style remake that lit the fuse, and from then on it would become the go-to group song everyone took turns singing.
Good thing I learned piano.
Compared to my previous life, this was like an ordinary person turning into a concert pianist. Apparently this ability had gotten upgraded along with my looks and my acting.
So Yujin and I would sing to celebrate Sora's birthday. Since that was the scene that played out when I received the invitation, there was no doubt about it.
Every single time the light had wrapped around me, an unexpected connection had been waiting on the other side—a precious connection that would open the door to my future. This time too, the song was meant to forge one.
But we don't have a piano at home.
I'd have to check whether I could actually play it the way I'd seen in that vision. I called Yujin, my future performance partner.
"You got an invitation to Sora's birthday party, right?"
"Obviously. Who else would get one before me?"
From everything I'd observed, the two of them had a truly peculiar relationship. It was one-sided on Yujin's end, admittedly—at times she was a rival who couldn't stand the thought of losing to Sora, and at other times a doting best friend who fussed over her every need. Not that Sora seemed to care one way or the other about the rival/best friend distinction.
"I want to sing her a birthday song."
"Everyone's going to sing together when she cuts the cake."
"Not like that. I want to perform it, like a real show."
"You? Perform?"
"You and me."
"Why me?"
"You don't want to perform with me?"
"Nobody said that!"
She always does this—of course she'll do it if I'm the one asking, but she has to put up a fight first.
"I'll play piano, so let's sing together. I've already picked the song."
"You can play piano?"
"A little."
How well can you actually play? her triumphant voice seemed to say.
I know you're overflowing with musical talent, so go easy on her, me.
"You have a piano at your place, right?"
"Of course. What kind of house doesn't have a piano?"
"Mine doesn't."
"Ah… well, I suppose some don't."
That was a Woody-grade change of stance.
"So I'd like to practice at your house. Is that okay?"
"You want to come to my house?"
When I said yes, there was silence for a long moment.
Is her place somewhere I'm not allowed?
"Why aren't you answering?"
"Mooom~"
Out of nowhere she started calling for her mother, and her voice drifted away into the distance. It sounded like she was asking permission, so I waited for her to come back.
"Come over the day after tomorrow!"
She returned after ages, said exactly one sentence, and hung up.
What was that about?
Two days later—
"Hello, ma'am."
"So you're Hajin. Come in, come in."
Yujin's mother was the top-class actress Na Hye-ri. The beauty of her prime years still clung to her so completely that it was impossible to believe she was the mother of a six-year-old.
"I've been so curious, you know. About who this boy could be, the one who's shaken up my daughter's heart like this."
She looked me up and down, then let the corners of her mouth curl upward. It was a bewitching smile, the kind that could melt the heart of a twenty-two-year veteran of being six.
"No wonder Yujin can't get enough of you. If you grow up looking like this, you'll break plenty of hearts."
"Thank you. Seeing you, ma'am, I think I understand why Yujin is so pretty."
"My, my. You shouldn't go making an auntie's heart flutter like that already."
Yujin's eyes had been narrowing at me this whole time from beside her, so I redirected my flattery.
"That was a compliment for you, Yujin."
"Hmph. I know I'm pretty."
We sat in a living room large enough to swallow my entire house and ate snacks. Yujin's father was an illegitimate child, but he was still blood family of the Daesung Group, one of the top five conglomerates in the country. As a child with no claim on management, he'd struck out on his own early and now ran a modest entertainment agency.
He grew it into one of the top three agencies without a lick of help from the main family—impressive man, honestly.
Perhaps it felt strange having me in her house, because Yujin kept sneaking glances at me while nibbling on her cookie. On set she was a haughty, regal queen; watching her like this, she looked just like an adorable hamster.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Because you're cute."
Poof—
Steam practically rose from her head as Yujin's mother clicked her tongue at the sight. Apparently her daughter falling so utterly head over heels for a boy was a novel spectacle for her.
"Can I use that piano?"
There was a grand piano in the inner room, but the upright one against the nearer wall looked better suited for practice.
"Mm-hm. That's the one I practice on too."
I walked over and pressed the keys one by one. As the feeling in my fingertips came alive, the entire keyboard drew itself in my mind's eye.
This was the moment I confirmed that what I'd seen two days ago wasn't mere precognition of the future.
It feels just like when I was acting at the audition.
Just like my acting, my musical talent was being amplified tens of times over—no, hundreds. The more I did, the more my abilities kept blooming.
I played the intro while layering the opening harmonies with my voice. Watching me, Yujin's mouth slowly fell open. Her mother observed the two of us with an amused expression.
"Do you know what song this is?"
"It's 'Magic of the Castle,' obviously. Are we singing this?"
"Yep. But in a bit of a different style. I'll sing it all the way through first."
Calling to mind the acapella version performed by a four-member vocal group that would tear up the competition shows thirteen years from now, I pressed down on the keys, soft and smooth.