9 - Among Geniuses (2)
9 - Among Geniuses (2)
9.
When people think of composing, they imagine it as simply “making a song.” In reality, true composition requires an enormous amount of preparation.
And for first-years, most of what we learn is precisely that preparation.
Proper composition classes don’t even begin until the second semester. During the first semester, to build solid fundamentals, we take various shared classes alongside other majors: sight-singing, ear training, music theory, ensemble, music history, and performance.
Composition class itself?
Once a week.
That part honestly sucked.
It increases to twice a week in the second semester, and even more from second year onward, but still. Not that the other classes were useless—especially piano performance.
Piano is taught every year, from first to third year, and it’s even part of the exams. That alone shows how important it is.
In that sense, Kim Taeyoung had an overwhelming advantage.
There wasn’t a single high school student in Korea—no, in our entire school—who could play piano better than him.
Watching his fingers move dazzlingly across the keys, I couldn’t help but feel impressed. What kind of fingers moved that effortlessly?
And I wasn’t the only one.
Other students and even the teachers watched in awe.
When he finished, Taeyoung stood up and sat beside me. Someone in the back clapped quietly.
Taeyoung casually stretched his wrist.
“Is your wrist hurting?”
He shook his head. “Just habit. Pianists have to take care of their wrists. And compared to the grand pianos I used to play, these digital keyboards feel like feathers. They don’t strain much.”
I nodded in understanding.
Several more students played after him. Everyone was fairly decent.
Then it was my turn.
I sat down and began to play.
Thanks to Seongmin’s lessons, I’d improved to a reasonably acceptable level. It was still average—but compared to before, when I couldn’t even reach that, it was a big step forward.
“You’re better than I expected.”
“You mocking me?”
“I’m serious.”
I brushed off Taeyoung’s comment and returned to my seat. As I watched the others play, Taeyoung spoke again.
“What about club activities? Are you joining one?”
“Not sure. You?”
“I’ll join if you do. If you don’t, I won’t.”
…A chill ran down my spine.
Does this guy have an interest in me or something? Why is he following me around?
I shook my head and rested my chin on my hand.
Clubs, huh.
In my past life, I never joined one. They’re optional—you don’t have to. But not joining means missing out on massive benefits.
Not just extra points or connections, though those matter too. The biggest gain is the stage—specifically, the festival stage.
The Seolwon Arts festival is ridiculously extravagant. Every year, representatives from entertainment companies attend to scout students. It’s basically a mass audition.
Practical Music ultimately aims for the mainstream. To make a living, you have to become a singer. That’s why students pour everything they have into preparing for the festival. Some even care more about it than exams.
The problem is that getting a solo stage is extremely difficult.
First, every class must perform. That’s mandatory.
There are eleven classes per grade and three grades total—thirty-three class stages already. That leaves very few slots for solo performances.
Everyone wants one. Competition is insane. You can’t get it just by wanting it.
That’s where clubs come in.
Clubs that work hard are given stage opportunities. That’s why most students join them—to get even one more chance on stage, to leave an impression on casting directors.
Stages, huh.
In the past, I desperately wanted that stage. Now… not so much.
But there was something else I wanted.
Stage direction.
My goal as a producer isn’t just composing. I want to handle composition, arrangement, and even stage production with my own hands—for Suyeon.
“I guess I should look into it.”
§ § §
These days, Yoon Suyeon was happy every single day.
There were many reasons.
First, she finally had a concrete dream. Before, she’d only thought vaguely that “it’d be nice to be a singer.” Now, that vague thought was turning into something real.
All thanks to Yoon Hajun.
Second, her brother actually cared about her now. In the past, Hajun barely spoke to her, completely absorbed in singing. He never paid attention to her.
But now, he chatted with her about everyday things, joked around, even teased her. That alone made Suyeon incredibly happy.
And lastly—
She was going to record.
Something she’d only imagined while singing at karaoke was now becoming reality. Again, thanks to Hajun.
“This is the place,” Hajun said as he walked ahead.
The building looked old and shabby. If she’d been alone, Suyeon never would have gone in.
“Let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
She followed behind him carefully.
Hajun moved through the place with ease. He led her down to the basement and opened the heavy metal door, greeting Won Seongmin warmly.
“Long time no see, Sunbaenim.”
“Yes. It has been a while.”
Seongmin returned the greeting, then looked at Suyeon.
“Um… is she the sister you mentioned?”
“Yeah.”
“Hello. I’m Won Seongmin.”
“Ah! Hello! I’m Yoon Suyeon! Nice to meet you!”
Without thinking, Suyeon bowed a full ninety degrees.
With his messy beard, untrimmed hair, and tall frame, Seongmin looked intimidating.
“Two hours as usual?”
“No. Three hours today.”
Hajun handed him extra money. Since it was Suyeon’s first recording session, he’d added an extra hour. It hurt his wallet, but it was worth it for her.
He led Suyeon into the studio room they usually used. This time, he didn’t forget to close the door properly before setting up the equipment.
After connecting the USB he’d brought, Hajun turned to her.
“Did you listen to the song I sent you?”
“Yeah.”
Before recording, he’d given her the song file he composed. Of course she needed to know it beforehand.
“The lyrics?”
“I memorized everything!”
Suyeon beamed.
She’d listened to it hundreds—no, thousands—of times. It was a song Hajun made just for her, and he’d even recorded a guide vocal himself.
Just thinking about the effort he’d put in, she felt she had to memorize it.
Besides, Suyeon loved Hajun’s songs.
Or rather—she loved Hajun’s voice.
When she had just entered elementary school, their father died and life became difficult. Their mother, once a housewife, had to start working. Suyeon was often left alone at home or sent to academies.
She hated it. The silence of the empty house. The nights when she couldn’t sleep.
The one who took care of her was Yoon Hajun.
He even stopped attending his own academy for a while just to look after her. And at night, when she couldn’t sleep, he sang to her.
Every night.
Hajun’s voice was warm and gentle. Listening to it made her feel safe.
It made her want to sing too.
The reason Suyeon dreamed of becoming a singer was because of Hajun.
“Then… want to try singing right away?”
“Yeah.”
At his words, Suyeon took a deep breath. She was nervous—but even more than that, she was excited.
She put on the headset. It was too big and slipped down, so Hajun adjusted it for her. Then he adjusted the microphone height and sat beside her.
He started the track on the computer.
Familiar music flowed into her ears.
Softly—very softly—Suyeon exhaled.
And at the perfect moment, she opened her mouth.