Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: A New Teacher
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Yeonwoo had earned the acknowledgment of Grandmother Fairy and received her power.
That power seemed merely to boost his piano skills in that instant, but it was more than that.
What the fairy bestowed wasn't just technique—it was the time Grandmother had poured into the piano.
Time is greater than any technique. Rather than granting strength instantly, it sought to fill Yeonwoo's deficits gradually, yet far faster than anyone else could.
But even the fairy had overlooked something.
The boy Yeonwoo, who possessed the special gift of seeing her, had another special quality.
Innate talent. Genius.
And a love for music so profound that he practiced every single day.
Yeonwoo's progress astonished even Heo Ok—who watched him daily from his side, knew better than anyone that he was no ordinary genius, and believed nothing could surprise her anymore.
And so, Yeonwoo became able to play 'Mom'—the piece he'd poured his soul into, infamous for its hellish difficulty.
Buoyed by that confidence, he sat at Himari's piano and soon came face-to-face with a new fairy materializing before him.
It was Himari's fairy.
She gazed down at Yeonwoo with brimming confidence, her expression so haughty it bordered on arrogance.
As if daring him: *Try it if you dare.* It felt like some kind of test.
But Yeonwoo paid it no mind.
A test? He'd just show her.
His hands began to dance across the keys.
Meanwhile, Himari, watching from behind, felt a shiver ripple from her head to her toes the instant she heard the light opening notes.
It was Heo Ok.
Yeonwoo's piano *was* Heo Ok herself.
Technique, experience, emotion—everything was a perfect replica of Heo Ok's playing.
One might dismiss it as mere imitation, but Himari couldn't.
She respected Heo Ok more than anyone, after all, and regarded her piano as the absolute truth.
*This... from a six-year-old?*
Because no six-year-old could simply mimic Heo Ok's piano.
She suddenly understood why Heo Ok wanted her to hear it.
*Genius...!*
This child was a genius.
A genius acknowledged by Heo Ok herself—the woman who crushed countless prodigies flocking to her lectures on her fame, forcing them to face reality through skill and stern words.
And that genius was playing jazz.
Riding the jazz, toying with it.
"Amazing. It's not easy for a six-year-old to play like that."
Heo Ok smiled at Himari's words.
"Our Yeonwoo has only been at the piano for about half a year now."
Himari's eyes flew wide as she stared at Heo Ok.
"N-No way...!!"
"It's true. Yeonwoo? Will you play 'Mom' for us now?"
"...Yes."
As Himari reeled in shock, her pupils dilating wildly, Yeonwoo stopped playing.
Only when the piano fell silent did Himari snap back to reality and look at him again.
Yeonwoo had his eyes gently closed.
He thought of his beloved mom.
Her endlessly loving gaze—yet tinged with sadness as she looked at him.
Recalling her always made his chest ache with longing and grief.
Pouring those feelings fully into the music, Yeonwoo opened his eyes.
Himari's fairy was watching him now, her earlier sulky expression replaced by keen interest.
*Watch.*
*This is my song. My piano.*
Yeonwoo's hands struck the keys once more.
A searing sorrow gathered like storm clouds overhead.
Then, drop by drop like the first patter of rain, it soaked into people's hearts.
As it built, the drizzle swelled into a torrent, wildly shaking emotions.
Even Heo Ok and Jiyeong, who had heard 'Mom' many times before, couldn't hold back their choked emotion. Himari, experiencing Yeonwoo's lifelong masterpiece for the first time, had reddened eyes that soon spilled over with tears she hadn't noticed falling.
Only after sorrow filled every corner of her studio did Yeonwoo's performance end.
He looked up at Himari's fairy.
*How was it?*
The fairy stared back in rapture.
She was utterly enchanted, her gaze full of envy.
Yeonwoo tilted his head.
Grandma had said she played better than him.
So why the reaction?
If he'd outplayed Grandma, the piano wouldn't respond like that.
In fact, Grandmother Fairy merely watched contentedly from the side, never with such longing eyes.
Why?
Yeonwoo glanced at the fairy's owner.
Himari was looking at him too. Wiping her damp cheeks and eyes, she asked,
"Who... wrote this? No, composed it?"
To her halting question, Yeonwoo shot his hand up.
"Me!"
"...Eh?"
Himari looked at Heo Ok again.
"Our Yeonwoo does have a knack for composing."
"Hmm..."
As Himari's expression grew peculiar, Heo Ok stroked Yeonwoo's head.
"All right, Yeonwoo. Now let's hear from Aunt Himari."
"Yes!"
Yeonwoo stepped away from the piano.
Himari glanced at him.
A strong vibe of *let's see how good you are.*
Feeling that stare, she swallowed without thinking.
*The great me... nervous?*
Japan's premier jazz pianist, the world-renowned Himari—whose cockiness everyone praised as confidence—was tensing up under a mere six-year-old's gaze.
No.
It wasn't just one gaze.
Heo Ok stood beside Yeonwoo, her hand on his shoulder.
She watched Himari too.
*Ah.*
Their resemblance went beyond the piano.
The shape of their eyes as they gazed at her—so alike.
Those sharp eyes, the unprecedented charisma pouring from them—identical.
Pinned under both stares, Himari flashed back to her college days: her first evaluation, playing before Heo Ok for the first time.
Tension threatened to burst right out of her throat.
Would she even manage to play her own piano at this rate?
No way.
Otherwise, she never would have become the world's Himari.
Himari thrived on tension.
She'd shown her true piano amid the nerves during Professor Heo Ok's evaluation—and become her prized disciple.
And if she hadn't relished it, she never could have risen from jazz bars—enduring mockery and prejudice for her Japanese-accented English—to become the world's Himari.
She played *Fuyu no Umi*—*Winter Sea*, the title track of her debut album and the top hit acclaimed by Japanese jazz fans.
Back when Oricon still reigned as Japan's premier chart, it had topped the main chart for weeks—and paved her path as a composer.
The moment *Fuyu no Umi* filled the air, blue light began emanating from her body, and countless fairies burst forth.
Whether from the title or the song's lyrical melancholy, the blue glow felt piercingly cold.
The fairies born in that blue light were the same.
Unlike those hovering around Yeonwoo, they emerged with sad, gloomy faces and drifted about her.
As if consoling the woman playing her sorrow.
Yeonwoo found the sight familiar.
When he'd first created 'Mom', his own fairies had been just like that.
Together with them, consoling one another, he'd somehow overcome that grief and grown stronger.
So what about Himari?
*Still sad?*
She seemed to carry the sorrow from when she'd written that song.
*Japanese Aunt is still sad.*
The unfamiliar name still sounded strange, so calling her Japanese Aunt, Yeonwoo focused on her playing.
It was a truly great song, a great performance.
But something grated oddly.
A red-glowing fairy flickered into view for a split instant.
His ear caught it too.
Yeonwoo looked at Himari's fairy.
She pointed at her own hand, face twisted in pain.
Seeing that, Yeonwoo strode to Himari and grabbed her playing hand.
"Eh?"
Shocked out of her immersion, she looked at him.
"Your finger hurts. Don't push too hard, Japanese Aunt."
Himari jolted in astonishment.
"H-How?"
"Yeonwoo, what do you mean? Himari, is your... finger hurting? Tendonitis?"
Tendonitis was common for pianists—yet potentially devastating.
Even Robert Schumann, the iconic early Romantic German composer, had abandoned his pianist dreams because of it. Famous pianists had suffered for years or even retired over it.
Heo Ok's face grew grave as she eyed Himari. Himari raised both hands and said,
"Ah, it's not that serious. I caught it early—no surgery needed. It's basically healed now.
Fortunately, Himari's tendonitis wasn't severe.
And at near-full recovery, it only nagged a little—not enough to stop her from finishing a piece.
The amazing part, though...
"How did you know I had tendonitis?"
That Yeonwoo had picked up on it.
"Hmm? Yeonwoo, how did you know about Himari's tendonitis?"
"Auntie's finger made the sound weak every time it hit a key."
Yeonwoo held up his middle finger. Only Jiyeong flinched at the sight.
"You can hear *that*?"
To Himari, growing ever more stunned, Heo Ok said,
"Yeonwoo's ears are sharper than my tuner guy I still call. Even he admitted it."
Himari knew that tuner. In an age of digital replacing analog, he stubbornly stuck to the old ways—yet his skill was undisputed, a true romantic.
"If *he* says so, that's something."
Himari wagged her tongue in awe and gave Yeonwoo a thumbs-up.
"Piano, composing, ears—all perfect. Better than me."
Even Himari had to concede it.
Half a year on piano and composing, plus innate hearing.
What had *she* been doing at six?
Grinding basics.
Czerny 100, maybe?
Compared to that...
*This kid's the real deal—a true genius.*
For the first time, Himari felt she'd met a genuine genius.
Heo Ok's mighty genes had birthed a once-in-a-century—no, perhaps once-in-a-millennium—prodigy.
Truly fearsome blood.
"Sounds like bragging about my grandson, but he's something, isn't he?"
"Yes, truly. I can see why you'd have to boast, Professor."
"Not here just to brag."
"Oh?"
"I want you to teach my boy. Show him the world."
What could she possibly teach—or show—a kid already complete?
Himari glanced at Yeonwoo, troubled.
Gone was that sharp charisma; now just the world's cutest child, blinking innocently.
"...I'll do it."
Well... cute and adorable. Might as well say yes and keep him around.