Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Winter's Slump
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Beep beep bam, la la la~.
Morning came at 6 a.m., and the alarm blared.
Seo-ha shot up out of habit and groped for the washbasin.
'Ah... right, no school today.'
March had arrived.
It was the start of the school year, but with his early graduation already approved, Seo-ha no longer had to go to school. They'd only asked him to show up in a few days for the diploma and awards ceremony.
He opened the window, and cool dawn air flooded into the room.
Seo-ha picked up his phone to check his messages.
-When can we meet?
The message showed as read. But there was no reply.
Not yesterday, nor the day before.
His finger hovered over the call button.
Ring ring ring~.
The signal rang a few times before cutting off.
Winter was clearly avoiding him.
'This is weird.'
She was diligent. The type to speak her mind if something bothered her—this kind of evasion wasn't like her at all.
A bad feeling crept over him.
"Guess I'll go check on her."
He took two buses to get to school.
His gray hoodie and sneakers blended right in with the science track kids but stuck out like a sore thumb among the arts students.
A few stares followed him.
"Science track!"
"Hey, isn't that him?"
Seo-ha didn't slow down.
He checked the music room—empty—then headed to the practice room, where another student was rehearsing inside.
He waited for the piece to end and gave the door a light knock.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for sophomore Han Winter."
A piano major with her hair tied back turned around.
"Winter? She hasn't been here today either. Haven't seen her all week."
"She hasn't come to school at all?"
"Yeah, it's weird."
"Is she refusing to come or something?"
His skeptical look set her off.
"Don't even think like that! We all adore Winter..."
Seo-ha bowed his head in thanks.
He sat on a bench and pieced things together.
Something had happened to Winter.
Something big enough to keep her out of school, something she wanted to hide so badly she wouldn't even answer messages.
A conversation with her suddenly came to mind.
"What if you get sick over break? I won't be around then..."
Her worried gaze as she looked at him.
'What did I say?'
"I'll be fine. I've made it this far on my own. I've got ways to handle it."
Winter had nodded, relieved.
"If you ever need me, just come to my place."
He scrolled up and found the address she'd sent.
[Seongbuk-gu, Seoul, Daesagwan-ro xx-gil]
A neighborhood he'd never been to, but there was no time to hesitate.
Seo-ha headed to the terminal and boarded a bus to Seoul.
[Seat 44]
He didn't like the number.
He jammed in his earbuds and scrolled for music.
[Han Winter Private Session Vol. 3]
The bus hit the highway and picked up speed.
Seo-ha closed his eyes and hit play on the track.
A performance made just for him.
The studio's high-end mic had even captured the sound of her taking a breath.
Thump~, thump~.
Her left hand laid down a steady rhythm, her right weaving in a fluid melody that filled the air.
Once Seo-ha had reached a decent level on piano himself, he'd finally understood.
Winter was an incredible pianist.
Music room, studio, competitions—she played differently in each space. She instinctively grasped the resonance and drew out the best sound possible, he figured.
He got off at the terminal, switched to the subway and another bus, and tracked down the address.
Seo-ha was already pretty worn out.
The roads narrowed, but the walls grew taller.
Each gate had a small nameplate and intercom.
He stopped only when the blue dot on his map lined up perfectly.
A granite wall twice a man's height, topped with neatly trimmed trees.
Seo-ha double-checked the address.
No mistake.
The imposing mansion looked straight out of a movie. He paused for a second, then pressed the doorbell firmly.
Ding-dong~.
A woman's voice came through.
"Who is it?"
"I'm Winter's friend, Yoo Seo-ha."
A brief silence.
Then an electronic buzz, and the iron gate slid open.
Creak.
He stepped inside to find a woman in a crisp ivory blouse waiting.
She had Winter's eyes, but exhaustion she couldn't quite hide.
"Yoo Seo-ha, right?"
She nodded as if she knew him, forcing a smile.
"Yes. Sorry for dropping by unannounced. I haven't been able to reach Winter. Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer.
She just gestured for him to come in.
The living room was vast and opulent, unlike anything he'd seen.
Expensive-looking paintings lined the walls. Even Seo-ha, clueless about art, could tell the person who designed and decorated this place had exceptional taste.
She sat on the sofa and spoke haltingly.
"Winter... isn't feeling well right now."
"What's wrong with her?"
She gave a faint smile and shook her head at his urgent tone.
"It's probably nothing serious. She just bombed the competition. But it's hit her hard—she can't seem to shake the slump."
"Ah..."
Seo-ha let out a sigh of relief.
"Thanks for coming, but I don't think she'll want to see anyone right now. Were you two close?"
He thought for a moment, then pulled CDs from his bag.
One, two, three.
Her eyes widened as they stacked up on the table. Then she burst out laughing, as if it all made sense.
"I knew something was off when she said she was going to the studio. She hates recording usually..."
Before he could correct her misunderstanding, she cut him off.
"No need to explain. She's in the practice room—go ahead."
She shook her head and stood.
Seo-ha followed her down the hall.
'Impressive.'
One wall was entirely covered in trophies.
Dozens of plaques and photos: international competitions, youth piano festivals, newspaper clippings. Winter beaming happily in every one.
"Right here."
Winter's mother pointed to the end of the hall.
A single dark wooden door.
A small nameplate above it, with crooked metal letters engraved into the wood.
[Han Winter Practice Room]
"She made that when she was little and got her first practice room—she loved it. Her dad turned it into a plaque."
Seo-ha paused in front of the door.
He'd expected piano sounds, but there was no sign of life inside.
"She's been in there all day lately."
"Practicing?"
"Who knows. Looks like she's just staring at it..."
Click~.
The door eased open.
Winter lay on the practice room floor.
Black lacquer gleamed under the lights.
In the frozen silence, she stared blankly at the piano.
"If you're not gonna practice, why go in there? Just rest in bed if you're tired."
Winter didn't respond.
She just slipped inside, shut the door, and stretched out on the floor.
"Honey, you'll drift away from the piano like that."
She couldn't play, but she wanted to stay close.
Until recently, she'd spent all day at the keys. Now she couldn't press a single note.
That day's stage replayed in her mind.
The scorching lights, the audience's sighs, her trembling hands. Every moment looped endlessly inside her, refusing to end.
Click~.
The firmly shut door opened.
Seo-ha stepped inside, and Winter turned her head. Their eyes met.
"Kyaaah!"
She screamed and rolled over, hiding her face.
"Wh-what are you doing here?"
"Worried about you, obviously. Why haven't you replied to my texts?"
"Th-that doesn't mean you just show up out of nowhere!"
"Don't have much time left."
"..."
Winter started to speak, then clamped her mouth shut.
"...Wait a sec."
She shuffled awkwardly to the wall, refusing to show her face, and left the room.
Thirty minutes later, she returned, cleaned up.
"Who might you be?"
Light makeup, hair neatly blow-dried.
A prim white dress with a beige cardigan.
"This is the real me."
Her haughty expression and confident posture—pure Winter as usual.
But when their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
"Sorry, you know how my memory's too good for my own good."
Seeing her healthy again made the jokes flow easily.
"Cut the crap! What's going on? Need a therapy session?"
Her unexpected words made something ache deep in his chest.
All this time, he'd only taken from her. Healed by her playing, gained crucial math insights. Teaching her a bit of math could never repay that debt.
And even now, in her state, she was worrying about him.
"Tell me everything. What happened?"
Winter hesitated, her face crumpling like she might cry, then started talking.
"That day, my luck was just awful."
She'd tossed and turned the night before the competition.
Slept weird—neck stiff, fingers not responding right.
"First round elimination was a first for me."
A question struck Seo-ha.
"Wasn't it just bad physical condition?"
Winter sniffled and shook her head.
"That's what I thought too."
At the next one, she was in perfect shape.
But the moment she hit the first key on stage with full confidence, she knew.
Her fingertips felt rigid.
Not just nerves.
No feedback from the keys sinking, no vibration from the sound.
'They were fine in practice...'
The second prelim flop hit harder. No excuses.
"Remember my first elimination?"
She nodded at his question. Winter remembered everything from that day.
"Tell me slowly. Every detail!"
His eyes turned serious.
'This is psychology territory.'
Dozens of psych and psychiatry books he'd devoured.
After math, physics, and computer science, psychology was his fourth major, more or less.
Listening to her, Seo-ha diagnosed her condition accurately.
Sensory dissociation—psychological trauma severing her physical sensations.
Her brain saw the stage as "danger."
Her hyper-detailed memory triggered a conditioned reflex, signaling her fingers not to move.
But it was still early stages.
'She needs one success, and a safety memory to override the fear.'
"Hold on..."
He had an idea.
Winter's playing calmed him. Their wavelengths synced.
Neuroscience called it neural entrainment.
Could she find calm in his heartbeat?
Worth a shot.
Seo-ha stood.
Winter swallowed hard at his serious face.
"Han Winter, don't get the wrong idea."
"Okay."
She looked up at him from the piano bench.
"Want to press your ear to my chest?"
Her face flushed crimson as she shielded herself with both hands.
"Are you insane?"
A flash of contempt in her eyes.