Don't Get Cocky

"Five hundred million years?"

"She played for five hundred million years?"

"It just means she's that sure of herself! Quiet down for a second!"

Murmurs broke out from every corner of the room. The newcomer they had all dismissed as some stone rolled in from nowhere had turned out to be a player of staggering skill, and there was no way a revelation like that could fail to seize everyone's attention.

Sua addressed the restless crowd.

"Would it be all right if I started playing now?"

Go Taemin, Kim Iseo, the manager from AWA Entertainment — everyone who, under any other circumstances, would have rushed to stop her — nodded like fools. The shock had been that great.

"Play? Oh. If you're willing, Miss Sua, I'm the one who should be grateful."

Even Go Taemin's answer amounted to little more than that. For the moment, Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo had slipped toward the back of everyone's mind. They were simply caught up in the thought that it would be wonderful to hear Sua play after Ham A-yoon. Skill was one thing, but the same piece, offered by two different hands, came out subtly different — and there was a distinct pleasure in hearing exactly where they diverged.

Amid all that commotion, Sua spoke.

"I'll begin."

She drew one short, steadying breath. As a rule, the face of someone playing a piece for the first time can never be entirely clean. Hesitation mixes in, and doubt toward the music, and fear and stray thoughts linger in the heart — too many impurities, waiting to dissolve into the performance. And yet, a moment later, Sua's expression had gone remarkably clear. It was the face that appears only after every stray thought has been swept away, and nothing remains but the music itself.

And at last, the bumblebee took flight.

A moment later.

"..."

The whole room had gone utterly still. In the middle of that hush, Sua thought, ...What am I supposed to do about this.

She had botched it. Thoroughly. Did bumblebees always fly this fast? She wasn't exaggerating — she had genuinely thought her fingers were about to snap. It had gotten so bad she'd started worrying that all ten of them might tangle together like earphones stuffed in a pocket.

Special Privilege. What is going on here...?

The reply came back at once.

...Well, yeah. Obviously. I'm just disappointed, that's all. Disappointed.

And then Sua flinched. How to put it — for a split second she could have sworn she saw the Special Privilege in the shape of an arctic fox, teeth bared, fur standing on end. What was certain was that the Special Privilege was, at this moment, well and truly pissed.

Okay, okay. Just calm down.

At that point Sua snapped too.

I was just saying it. Why do you keep doing this? It's annoying.

And then—

"...?"

...Ah. I'm sorry. I get it. I'm really sorry.

The deletion text stopped dead.

...

Sua ducked her head, mouth pushed out in a pout. It was a moment of profound significance. Why profound? Because it was the instant the pecking order between Sua and the Special Privilege became unmistakably clear. Astonishingly, Sua was the one underneath. Sua had surrendered.

And then—

"Miss Sua."

Director Go Taemin's voice. Only then did Sua climb out of her thoughts, and the moment her mind returned to the room, worry crashed over her. Everything had been going so well, and she'd ruined the final performance. What was she supposed to do now? She never should have played.

She was soaked in every worry imaginable when something unexpected happened.

"Kim Sohee. Were you deliberately playing with Kim Sohee in mind?"

"Pardon?"

"The piano just now. I wanted to be sure I felt what I think I felt."

Director Go Taemin had said something Sua had never once considered. No? I'm still Stiff-Sua. My fingers just wouldn't move right. She scrambled for an answer. What am I supposed to say to that?

The answer came from somewhere else.

"That's right. It's Kim Sohee's way of playing."

Every eye in the room snapped toward the owner of that voice. They had no choice. It was none other than Ham A-yoon. Her golden hair spilled as it always did, but her face had gone more serious than anyone had ever seen it, and she went on.

"The score is sitting perfectly in her head, but her hands are still too stiff to keep up. I wasn't sure at first. Just now, I was. Because it was Flight of the Bumblebee."

What?

Sua was still reeling when Go Taemin spoke.

"My God. It's astonishing enough that she can play the piano at all — and you're saying she was already wearing the role of Kim Sohee while she played? I never even considered it. Acting, even in a moment like this?"

"...Yes."

Go Taemin and Ham A-yoon slipped into a conversation that seemed to exist only between the two of them. Sua, for her part, went Sua-silent and listened.

And then—

"Maybe she really does suit Kim Sohee better than I do."

An out-of-nowhere bombshell from Ham A-yoon. The room went still with shock.

"...!"

It amounted to a public declaration that she would yield the role of Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sohee to Sua — and yet Ham A-yoon continued, perfectly calm.

"I can't play like that. Years of habit are baked into the body, and they chase a perfect performance. If I force myself to pretend I can't play, to pretend I'm stiff, it shows. Unpleasant to hear."

"That's true. But in Miss Sua's case..."

"That stiffness is natural. The theory is perfect, so a body that hasn't caught up becomes a strength. By itself, it expresses Kim Sohee's savant syndrome."

What? What even is this situation?

But Sua's newly sharpened mind caught on at once. All she had done was fail to reproduce, with her body, the experience the Special Privilege had given her — and somehow that matched Kim Sohee's savant syndrome? It had simply lined up?

Right. Ignoring the Special Privilege for now.

"Miss Sua."

Around then, Director Go Taemin called to her again.

"I still haven't heard your answer. Is it really true? For the role of Kim Sohee, you... to that extent..."

Sua glanced around. The factions were no longer split. The doubtful looks, the hostile ones — those were gone too. People weren't divided anymore. They stood gathered together, waiting with nothing but awe in their eyes for Sua's answer.

And so she simply folded her arms across her chest, quiet, as if bracing herself.

The words came with a grin that flashed, bright and sure.

"...Sua! What on earth was that?"

Kim Iseo asked it with her eyes wide as saucers. Sua blinked and thought, What else would it be. A favorable situation showed up, so I just went ahead and admitted it.

The two of them had moved to a corner of the conference room. The room itself had been seized by a sudden, untimely fervor — the production team of Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo had gathered as if they'd planned it and launched straight into a heated meeting. To Sua, it was bizarre. These are the same people who were fighting a minute ago, right?

Kim Iseo pressed a hand to her own chest.

"I was shocked. I mean truly shocked."

She looked it. The eyes fixed on Sua seemed ready to pop free and roll across the floor at any second.

And then—

"A moment. Do you have time?"

Ham A-yoon's voice. But three people were approaching Kim Iseo and Sua: Go Taemin, the manager from AWA Entertainment, and golden-haired Ham A-yoon. Sua blinked, wondering what this was about, and Go Taemin opened his mouth with a bright smile.

"First, I owe you my thanks. We've just finished a very good conversation with AWA Entertainment. The role of Kim Sohee has gone to you, Miss Sua — cleanly and completely."

"Ah."

"As it turns out, there was a misunderstanding along the way."

"A misunderstanding?"

At that, the AWA Entertainment manager pulled off a ball cap and bowed low. It was a complete reversal from earlier — an attitude that felt thoroughly polite.

"I'm sorry. Honestly, A-yoon's fee is so high I thought we were being lowballed. Hearing the other party was a newcomer only made me misunderstand further. I never imagined there was an actress this prepared..."

"Lowballed?"

Kim Iseo tilted her head — and then understood.

"...Ah. I can see how you'd misunderstand."

Her mind was sharp enough to grasp at once exactly where the misunderstanding lay. And in truth, they weren't at fault. They had acted with perfect common sense. Sua was simply a being who exceeded every expectation.

Around then, Sua had a question of her own.

"Then you don't really need to thank me, do you? You should be thanking AWA Entertainment. They gave the role up so cleanly."

"No. My gratitude toward AWA Entertainment is its own thing. My gratitude toward you, Miss Sua, is separate."

"Gratitude toward me?"

"Miss Sua, I think of a film as a boat, and I build it that way."

Go Taemin began in an exceedingly gentle tone. Meanwhile, sweat started running down Sua's spine. Oh no. This is absolutely turning into one of those difficult speeches. I don't know any of this!

"If even one person fails to row in time, the boat drifts off course. But you, Miss Sua, went so far as to become the sail. Every heart has been bound into one."

"Uh..."

"...Ah! I understand perfectly!"

Sua, having perfectly understood the situation through the Special Privilege. This time Ham A-yoon spoke.

"Congratulations on Kim Sohee. One thing, though."

"Hm?"

"When I was playing. Why did you make that face?"

Sua only blinked, quietly. The question was perfectly serious, and yet she couldn't remember what expression she had made. Was my face weird? I think I was just listening like, wow, she plays insanely well.

"I'm not sure."

"Not sure. You — the face you made was..."

But Ham A-yoon didn't finish. She only let out a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sigh.

"...Forget it. Never mind. I'll go. Work hard."

The moment she turned away with the manager—

"..."

A notification had surfaced before Sua without warning, and the moment she read it, her eyes went wide. What was written there concerned Ham A-yoon. And it was thoroughly shocking.

"...Ah. One moment."

Ham A-yoon, her back still turned, glanced over her shoulder. It was a profile captivating enough to charm even another ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠woman.

"Director, by any chance — have you cast Park Min-seo?"

"Park Min-seo? Not yet. But it shouldn't be difficult. Kim Sohee is the hard one. Park Min-seo, if you look around, is more or less..."

"Then, couldn't Miss A-yoon do it?"

Everyone looked startled. But Sua was serious. The thought had struck her that she had to hold on to A-yoon no matter what, and retracing the conversation they had just had, she found herself making even this promise.

"Miss A-yoon. Take the role of Park Min-seo."

"...What?"

All of this took place with the opening of the short film festival close at hand.