8
## Chapter 8 — Piano Man
Every cocktail the owner made was delicious.
At this point, I had no idea how many drinks I’d had tonight.
‘So this is what it feels like to get drunk.’
Now I understood why adults were obsessed with alcohol.
Why the artists I admired all leaned on liquor to survive.
Alcohol let you forget everything, if only for a little while.
The pathetic fifteen years I spent locked inside my room.
The horrific trauma that drove me into isolation.
Even the sorrowful eyes of my parents as they looked at me with worry.
Everything faded away.
In this hazy world, all suffering disappeared.
I didn’t even know how I ended up on stage.
Before I realized it, I was sitting in front of the piano wearing the western-style half mask the owner had hung on the wall as decoration.
‘I’m dizzy.’
The world spun around me.
But somehow—
everything also felt crystal clear.
My body didn’t feel like my own…
yet at the same time, I felt as though I could do anything.
Even standing before all these people, I wasn’t nervous at all.
“Hahaha! He’s so drunk I wonder if he can even hit the right piano keys!”
“Even if he messes up, let’s just have fun tonight!”
“Fighting! Ahahaha!”
Right now—
I simply wanted to perform.
Then what should I play?
What kind of song?
At that moment, I remembered what the owner had told me earlier.
‘Here, you just perform whatever stage you want. What songs should you play? That’s up to you.’
What kind of stage did *I* want right now?
Murmur murmur.
People were noisily drinking and laughing together.
“Hahaha! That kid’s totally drunk!”
“You’re supposed to play piano, not just grin at us! Hahaha!”
“Doesn’t matter if you suck! Hurry up and show us what you’ve got!”
People cheered me on, but it didn’t feel like they actually expected me to play well.
Which made sense.
Who would expect anything from a pianist swaying drunkenly in front of a piano?
To them, I was nothing more than tonight’s entertainment.
That was perfectly natural.
And yet—
perhaps because I was drunk—
a mischievous thought suddenly crossed my mind.
These people who expected absolutely nothing from me…
I wanted to shock them so badly their jaws dropped open.
Grin.
Having finally decided what to play, I pressed down on the keys with a deep smile.
♩ ♩♪
Like the silence before a storm crashes down.
Like molten lava quietly building inside a volcano before eruption.
The introduction began calm and lyrical beyond belief.
---
♩ ♩♪
“Oh, he’s finally playing!”
“Fighting! Hahaha!”
The crowd laughed as the drunken young man finally touched the piano.
A sweet melody—
but simple and easy-sounding.
People assumed the drunk youth had picked an easy piece because he could barely stand upright, and they were just about to offer some casual encouragement—
when suddenly—
♪♬ ♪♪ ♪ ♬♬ ♬♪ ♪♪♪♪♪
“……Huh?”
The moment the introduction ended, a cascade of glass-like notes poured forth, causing everyone to flinch.
After the lyrical opening came a sudden reversal—
*forte.*
Sharp staccatos and extreme non-legato surged toward the audience like a violent blizzard.
The people who had been laughing drunkenly moments ago froze as though time itself had stopped.
‘What monstrous technique is this…?!’
Anyone who knew even a little about piano instantly recognized the piece.
Chopin Etude Op.25 No.11.
One of the most notoriously difficult Chopin Etudes—
better known as:
*Winter Wind.*
♬♬ ♪ ♩♬♬ ♪♪
The impossible-to-follow arpeggios of the right hand whipped through the air like a snowstorm sweeping across icy mountains.
Combined with the left-hand bass, the dazzling high notes utterly captivated the audience’s ears.
“Wooooow…”
Who would ever imagine hearing a perfect Chopin Etude like this in a tiny pub in Gwangju?
Before they knew it, everyone’s mouths hung open in shock.
The eyes of those who had been red-faced and heavily drunk widened.
They were sobering up in real time.
Because none of them had expected the young man before them to play *this* well, the impact hit even harder.
The only person smiling knowingly was the pub owner who brought him here.
Every other customer sat there completely overwhelmed, unable to take even another sip of the alcohol they loved so much.
And then—
the shocking performance ended.
“……”
“……”
At first, silence descended because no one could escape the lingering aftertaste of the performance.
But then—
“WOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAH!!!”
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
The emotionally expressive customers erupted into thunderous applause and deafening cheers.
“Holy shit!!! BRAVO!!!!!”
“Chopin!! It’s Chopin! Chopin showed up in Gwangju!!!”
“This is insane!! Who the hell are you?!!”
As people screamed and praised him like worshippers witnessing a god, the young man shyly scratched the back of his head.
The crowd immediately began demanding another song.
“Encore! Encore!!”
“Another one! One more!”
“More Chopin! Play another Chopin piece!”
“Ah, another Chopin piece?”
Smiling at their request, the young man placed his hands back on the keys.
♩♩ ♪
Once again, a lyrical introduction began.
Anyone familiar with classical music recognized the piece immediately.
Even ordinary people would go, *“Ah, this song?”* after hearing it once.
Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9 No.2.
Commonly called *Nocturne No.2.*
But—
“Huh?”
Something felt different from the usual classical version.
The lively melody practically made people want to dance, and the regulars of the Live Pub rose from their seats holding drinks as they shouted:
“It’s jazz! A jazz version!”
A jazz rearrangement.
Unlike classical music, which could feel lyrical or even sacred, jazz made people stand up and dance.
The crowd who had just been appreciating Chopin’s *Winter Wind* with elegant admiration immediately returned to being drunken revelers, chugging alcohol and shouting excitedly.
“Ahhh, tonight’s amazing!”
“Boss! Two mojitos over here! The alcohol’s going down way too smoothly tonight!”
Some danced along to the jazz melodies.
Others climbed onto the stage claiming they wanted to perform too.
And so, the Live Pub became noisy once again beneath the rhythm of jazz.
No—
the atmosphere grew even more heated and chaotic than before.
---
I loved classical music.
But in a place like this, jazz really was king.
After first capturing everyone’s attention with Chopin’s *Winter Wind,* I raised the atmosphere with jazz.
It wasn’t as though I originally knew many jazz pieces.
Instead, I improvised jazz rearrangements of classical songs I already knew.
Maybe that was the true charm of jazz.
Freedom.
Mistouches were okay.
Wrong chords were okay.
As long as you kept going freely—
and confidently showed your own color.
Hehe.
Maybe I was drunk on alcohol.
Maybe I was drunk on the atmosphere.
Or perhaps—
“Tonight’s on the house! Eat and drink whatever you want!”
“WOOOOOOAH—!”
“Hey, young man! Have another drink while you play!”
—maybe I was drunk on the people here.
After spending fifteen years shut inside my room and growing more accustomed to solitude than anyone else, tonight I found myself mingling with complete strangers as though we’d always been friends.
“Piano Man! What cocktail do you want? Just name it!”
“Ah, then I’d like a Black Russian!”
“Okay! Boss, one Black Russian over here!”
I drank together with the customers.
“Kid! Mind if I join in too? I’ve been taking adult drum lessons for seven years!”
“It’d be an honor to perform together.”
I performed together with the customers.
“Put me in the session too! I majored in contrabass back in university!”
“Whoa, we’ve got a professional here!”
“I can play violin too!”
A solo became a duo.
The duo became a trio.
The trio became a quartet.
Improvised sessions formed naturally as everyone enjoyed jazz together.
“Kid! Take a break! This time I’ll play piano!”
“Then I’ll take the violin.”
“Haha, kid! You can play violin too?”
“A little.”
Whenever things started feeling repetitive, people swapped instruments and kept performing.
And with music and alcohol blending together—
everyone inside the Live Pub spent the night as though there were no tomorrow.
It was truly a night of madness.
---
4 AM.
“Huff… huff…”
“Man… I really *am* getting old.”
Only then did the burning energy filling the Live Pub finally begin to fade.
Most of the regulars were already past their thirties, and their stamina simply couldn’t keep up forever.
But more than that—
“…Ah, my wife called me a million times.”
“How the hell am I supposed to go to work tomorrow…”
Tonight was still a weekday.
Everyone had partied like it was their last night alive—
but they still had work tomorrow.
And by this hour, the alcohol was slowly wearing off.
“Kid, tonight was seriously fun.”
“Hope we meet again sometime. Haha.”
As the atmosphere naturally shifted toward ending the night, I stood up.
Unlike everyone else, the fire inside me still hadn’t cooled down.
After spending over ten years trapped in my room and finally returning to music—
there was no way those emotions would settle so quickly.
I still wanted to perform.
Thud.
Step. Step.
As I walked once more toward the side filled with instruments, the customers who had been gathering their belongings burst into laughter and sat back down again.
“Youth really is nice! Looks like that kid’s still fired up!”
“Ahahaha! Let’s hear one more song before we leave!”
“What’re you playing this time? Piano? Violin?”
Under everyone’s attention, the instrument I picked up was—
“…A harmonica?”
A harmonica.
As soon as I picked up the instrument no one had paid any attention to all night, the crowd tilted their heads in confusion.
And then—
“You’re playing harmonica? Wait, no, more importantly—!”
The moment people noticed what I held in my other hand, murmurs spread through the room.
“He’s holding a microphone…”
“What, kid…?! You sing too?”
Without answering immediately, I quietly set up the harmonica and microphone on the stand before sitting down at the piano.
Only then did I reply:
“Actually… from the moment I first came here, there was a song I really wanted to sing. It’s my first time singing in front of people, so please go easy on me.”
Bow.
As I lowered my head slightly, the crowd clapped enthusiastically despite their exhausted bodies.
“Haha! If you wanted to sing, you should’ve done it earlier! This is a Live Pub!”
“Hurry up and sing already! We’re only staying for one more song before going home!”
…I really must’ve been drunk.
Normally, I would never sing in front of other people.
But as I looked into the eyes of those drunken customers inside this tiny pub—
I suddenly wanted to sing this song more than anything.
Heh.
With a small smile, I pressed the piano keys.
And at the same time, I began playing the harmonica mounted on the stand.
The moment they recognized the song, people gasped.
“Ah, this song!”
“Daaaamn~”
---
It was my first time ever singing in front of other people.
As a child, I had been called a genius in painting and piano—
but when it came to singing, I was probably nothing more than ordinary.
And yet the reason I grabbed the microphone anyway was simple.
‘Here, you just perform whatever stage you want. What songs should you play? That’s up to you.’
I just wanted to.
Music was ultimately about expressing emotion.
Right now, instead of using piano or violin—
I wanted to express everything I had seen and felt today through my own voice.
And this song…
felt like the perfect song to paint those emotions.
And so—
I quietly began to sing with all my feelings poured into the music.