Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Forsythia Arrangement
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The jazz orchestra, also known as a big band due to the large-scale sessions involved, naturally features a variety of sections.
Right now, with Orion's members and Hashimoto Atsushi joining, half of the rhythm section was in place, but not a single horn player—those handling the so-called horn section—was present.
In fact, these horn players were the most crucial part of a jazz orchestra setup, and they required the largest number of personnel.
While the rhythm section only needed one player per instrument, the horn section demanded five saxophonists—alto, tenor, and baritone—four trumpeters, and four trombonists.
Of course, not every jazz orchestra needed this exact lineup.
This was just the standard formation.
Yeonwoo planned to stick to the standard number for the horn section but also had clarinets, flutes, and violins in mind.
But something still felt missing.
“There’s a keyboard, but…”
A keyboard could produce various sound effects to fill in some gaps, but since this wasn’t classical, Yeonwoo wondered if adding even more diverse electronic sounds might work.
“Let’s add a synthesizer. Wait, what about an accordion?”
Yeonwoo pictured all sorts of instruments that would never appear in a classical orchestra.
Then a sudden thought struck him.
“What am I going to play?”
Jazz orchestras sometimes had conductors.
But Yeonwoo wanted to breathe and perform alongside everyone in the mix.
“I’ll handle the synthesizer.”
Yeonwoo could use the synthesizer to anchor the rhythm section, creating the rhythm while the others led the melody.
He could program patterns into the synthesizer and, in between, control the other instruments—essentially conducting.
With the direction set, song selection now weighed on his mind.
At first, Yeonwoo had planned to compose something entirely new.
But that would take time to learn, and given his personality, he’d never settle for something simple.
With less than three weeks left for preparation, composing and perfecting a new piece felt too tight.
Then he remembered a key fact.
“This isn’t a concert for me.”
He was just a guest invited to this performance.
This one celebrating Uesugi Himari’s 20th anniversary.
“Let’s arrange one of Aunt Himari’s songs.”
It made sense to adapt one of Himari’s tracks for the jazz orchestra, tweaking it to his taste.
So, which one?
Rather than deciding alone, since this stage was for Himari, he should go with a song she was expecting him to arrange or one she wanted to hear.
Yeonwoo immediately approached Himari, who was practicing.
“Auntie, which song do you like? I’ll prep that one for the jazz orchestra.”
“Huh? You still haven’t decided?”
“Yeah, arranging it won’t take long.”
Jazz orchestras often went without a conductor, relying on section interplay alone, and required meticulous instrumentation, making the arranger the most vital role—yet Yeonwoo spoke as if it were the easiest thing.
Well, it was Yeonwoo.
Himari brushed it off casually and thought of her favorite songs.
“How about… Fuyuno Yumi?”
Her debut hit, Winter Sea, was bound to hold deep attachment.
“Anything but that. You’re performing that one yourself.”
It was a staple that never left her concert setlist.
“Then… Mama?”
“Eww!”
“It’s true! We made it together, so it’s one of my real favorites.”
“Auntie Himari, your Korean’s improved so much you’re even better at embarrassing people now!”
“Haha, no, really… Hmm, not Mama then? Alright…”
Arranging Mama wouldn’t be bad.
But Mama was the reason she’d invited Yeonwoo to this 20th anniversary show.
They were planning to perform it together.
“So, what else…”
Himari pondered, then remembered one.
“Oh! I have this super upbeat song among my tracks.”
99% of Himari’s jazz songs were sad. Excluding the 10th album released through Yeonwoo, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say they all were.
The sole exception: one bright, happy track.
“Rengyou?”
“Y-Yeah. What’s that in Korean?”
“Forsythia.”
It was April, springtime—perfect.
“Great! I’ll prep Forsythia!”
Yeonwoo said that and stood up.
“Huh? Where to? Already?”
“Gonna work on the arrangement while it’s fresh.”
“What about the Orion seniors…?”
“Grandma said she’s feeling nostalgic teaching her student again, so she’ll watch them.”
Heo Ok—reliable as ever.
Himari nodded readily and turned to Oh Jaehoon.
“You know my studio, right? Take Yeonwoo there.”
“Sure thing.”
Oh Jaehoon led Yeonwoo out of the practice room, texting Jihoon the studio location and that Yeonwoo would be working on music there.
* * *
“Shall we?”
Jihoon checked the address from Oh Jaehoon, dusted himself off, showered, and got ready to head out.
With Yeonwoo busy rehearsing, Jihoon had been spending most of his time alone.
Watching Yeonwoo practice daily was taxing for someone like him who didn’t know much about music, so lately he’d walk to the studio with Yeonwoo, watch briefly or visit occasionally, or bring a book or tablet to read and relax until practice ended.
Today, since Yeonwoo went ahead, Jihoon had napped late into the day, planning to head to the Tenjin studio.
Perfect timing—they’d moved to the studio, so he’d go there.
Leaving the hotel, Jihoon scanned for a shared bike, QR-coded it, and hopped on.
The company car was available, but Jihoon preferred biking these days.
He’d always enjoyed walks and casual bike rides.
Not intense cycling like others, but leisurely loops around the neighborhood in comfy clothes, like heading to the corner store.
The warm spring weather made it even more pleasant.
This moment felt like a throwback to his school days.
That vibe of heading home early due to illness or circumstances.
The weekday afternoon scenery—different from weekends—quiet streets, that uneasy “Can I really relax?” feeling, the neighborhood mood unlike weekend days or after-school hours on weekdays.
Biking here to Yeonwoo revived those old sensations.
Even the clear blue sky, free of fine dust like in his childhood, amplified it.
Yeah, the skies were that purely clear back then.
“Hm?”
Lost in memories, Jihoon slowed his bike and glanced at the roadside.
It was just past noon.
Lunchtime—office workers in those uniform-like suits would soon pour out of buildings.
And on this street lined with office towers, street stalls were setting up.
Vendors timing it for workers’ lunch breaks, busily laying out bento boxes.
“Think Yeonwoo would like this?”
Seeing neatly packed bentos with tonkatsu, fried sardines, and other Japanese sides, Jihoon called Yeonwoo right away.
“Hey, Yeonwoo. Eaten lunch? Not yet? Bento okay? Looks tasty. Yeah, got it. Dad’ll grab one for Jaehoon too!”
Recalling how Yeonwoo loved ekiben, Jihoon excitedly bought the bentos and headed to the studio.
Parking the shared bike in the designated spot, Jihoon hurried inside.
“Oh, you’re here. Sir.”
“Yeah, where’s Yeonwoo?”
“He’s in there working on the track. Ah, give me the bentos—I’ll set them up.”
Oh Jaehoon bustled about preparing them.
At first, Jihoon felt awkward with Oh Jaehoon handling such chores, but since it came with a hefty salary, he let it be.
“All set.”
“I’ll call him.”
Jihoon opened the studio door.
“Yeonwoo?”
Wearing headphones, Yeonwoo didn’t hear and kept tapping away at the keyboard intently.
Watching someone like Mother’s Daughter work felt slow and handmade, but Yeonwoo’s process was precise, factory-like—clicking along.
Yet the final product was handmade artistry, so refined even Jihoon, music novice, could tell. Bizarre.
After watching his son play a bit, Jihoon tapped Yeonwoo’s shoulder.
“Huh? Dad!”
Yeonwoo beamed at Jihoon and stood.
“Yeonwoo, time for lunch.”
“Okay!”
Yeonwoo whipped off the headphones and left his seat.
Jihoon had bought three different bentos for Yeonwoo to choose from. Yeonwoo eyed them more carefully than his composing, picking the one with fried sardines, braised beef and potatoes, a bit of yakisoba, and pickled cucumber.
“Let’s eat!”
Yeonwoo grabbed chopsticks and dug in.
“Good?”
“Mmm… Delicious!!”
“Yeah? Glad. Eat up. Try Dad’s sides if you’re curious.”
“Yeonwoo, mine too.”
“Sure!”
Yeonwoo nodded and started eating his eagerly.
Only after confirming Yeonwoo was genuinely enjoying it did Jihoon begin his own lunch.
Truth be told, Jihoon had never cared much about food.
But lately, things were different.
No, he still didn’t care about eating.
Watching Yeonwoo eat three meals a day made him feel full without eating.
This little kid ate so well.
Not just heartily—Yeonwoo ate neatly too.
No slurping, no mess—just clean bites.
For a child, keeping white rice spotless wasn’t easy, but unless it was donburi, bibimbap, or curry where mixing was inevitable, he ate without dirtying the rice.
Never left a single grain, never rummaged through sides.
‘Must be…’
Grandma’s influence.
Raised watching Grandma, Yeonwoo mimicked her in everything—from neat morning grooming to the smallest habits.
Come to think of it, they ate the exact same things.
“Our Yeonwoo could do mukbangs on YouTube.”
Not gorging greedily, yet he made it look so appetizing.
Like a solitary gourmet.
“Wakana sis already said to film eating and upload.”
Yeonwoo paused thoughtfully, then nodded.
“Starting tomorrow, film your meals and send them.”
“No, Dad was just kidding…”
“I need lots of content so Wakana sis makes bank.”
Was this a CEO wishing incentives for her employee, or an attention-seeker fretting over YouTube views?
‘Probably both.’
Watching his unusually mature son, Jihoon just chuckled softly.