Chapter 10
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Conviction (1)
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I decided to keep my mouth shut to Lee Seong-hyuk for now. About the fact that I was the last performer in that video.
By my own standards, my playing was still lacking, and I wasn't the type to go around blabbing about something like that anyway.
But the guy wouldn't let go of his conspiracy theory even by the next day.
"It's 100% manipulated."
"How could the school's own YouTube channel fake it? Come on, use your head."
"No matter how you look at it, they brought in some senior to film it. Why else would they mosaic the face?"
"Lots of other kids were mosaiced too."
"Lies always contain a kernel of truth."
The guy's got incredible persistence when it comes to weird theories.
If I defended it any more, I'd end up looking like a spy for Ye-rim Arts High School's YouTube channel, so I gave up too.
"Whatever. What's our next class?"
"Music theory, on the fifth floor."
Where did I put my music theory textbook? I'd skimmed it during the previous class, and surprisingly, the explanations were pretty detailed.
But apparently, they didn't stick strictly to the textbook. Most students already knew the material anyway.
What about kids like me?
I was sorely lacking not just in basic technique for performance, but in theory too. I'd listened to a ton of music, but never bothered to learn the knowledge needed for playing. Even if I had, it was all basic stuff.
What could I do? No matter how unfair it felt, I had to catch up.
I quickly tidied my desk and headed out with Lee Seong-hyuk.
"First class—what do you think we'll do?"
"Who knows? It varies wildly by teacher."
"Who's the music theory teacher?"
"No idea. It was some teacher I'd never seen before."
Hmm, a fresh-faced new teacher would be nice. Someone young and passionate, patiently explaining the basics from the ground up.
With light expectations, I opened the classroom door.
"Where do you wanna sit?"
"Anywhere."
The room was pretty chaotic. Music theory was for the entire piano department, so that explained it.
I pulled out my textbook and slowly scanned the room. Between the desks, one guy caught my eye—leaning back with one leg stretched out.
Myeong Woo-bin, right? The one with that subtle rivalry with Seol Yu-jin.
Damn, he's huge.
And he really was. Easily close to 190 cm tall, long legs, huge hands.
My intense staring was just natural curiosity about human anatomy.
He's gotta be at least 12th, right?
Pianists with big hands usually span 11th to 12th. Meaning, when they spread their hand, 11 or 12 keys fit palm to palm.
Anything over 12th is superhuman territory. I could just barely hit 10th, so Myeong Woo-bin was on another level—no comparison.
Obvious, but big hands give tons of advantages on piano.
Myeong Woo-bin, you lucky bastard.
Where have I heard his name before?
Racking my brain, it wasn't totally unfamiliar. Had I seen him in a performance and forgotten, or never seen him at all?
If he was on Seol Yu-jin's level, he'd have had a decent debut stage as an adult, right? Maybe it was during one of my busy periods abroad?
"Hey."
Oh crap, my stare must've been too intense. Myeong Woo-bin turned, glaring uncomfortably.
"......Hey, nice to meet you."
"What're you staring at? You've been at it since earlier."
His voice matched his build—heavy, deep bass.
Even with my adult mindset, high schoolers like that scare me. Pre-regression, I'd have bolted if I ran into him. Hell, I might've even offered him a smoke.
"Nothing much."
"......"
I averted my eyes without hesitation. Myeong Woo-bin let out a shallow sigh and straightened up.
Relief washing over me inside, when Lee Seong-hyuk started poking my shoulder, snickering.
"You flinched just now, right? Admit it."
"......"
Yeah, I did, but no guy's pride lets him say that out loud. I flashed a relaxed smile.
"The silent man's struggle or whatever. You'll never get it."
"Why not go say it to his face, loud and clear?"
Lee Seong-hyuk cracked up like it was the funniest thing. Annoying.
From then on, I kept my eyes away from Myeong Woo-bin's side, quietly waiting for the teacher.
"You see that from yesterday? The one with Ji-ho."
"I watched it right when it dropped! It was fun."
I'd tried to stay quiet, but talk of the YouTube video wormed into my ears no matter what.
The kids around me were chattering nonstop, holding their own review session.
Lee Seong-hyuk muttered under his breath so others wouldn't hear that it was obviously fake.
"Baek Ji-ho's always like that, fine. But anyone know who the last player was?"
I couldn't dodge the spotlight either. Good thing I'd requested the mosaic beforehand, or I'd be in another awkward mess.
"The playing overall was kinda weird. But it sounded good."
"Didn't we do improv stuff like that at Ye-won sometimes?"
"Yeah, but I'd never seen anyone play like that... The tone was so pretty."
"Plenty of kids have pretty tone."
Hearing this right behind me felt like sitting on pins and needles.
These were the same kids who'd glared daggers at me when I got assigned to Class A yesterday. Weird feeling.
"If you're here, shut up and sit down."
Then a voice cut through the wild guesses like a knife. Seeing the teacher's face as he entered made my brows furrow naturally.
It was none other than Teacher Choi Je-hun.
Music theory, huh?
So much for the passionate, kind teacher...
The bell rang soon after, and the teacher, who'd skimmed the roster, spoke up.
"Teacher Seong Ye-ji has a schedule today and can't make it. Anyone unhappy with me subbing? I'll let you skip."
He smirked, and light laughter rippled through the room. Thankfully, no one was brave enough to raise a hand.
Lee Seong-hyuk chimed in that Ye-rim's faculty weren't just teachers—they got called for external performances or workshops often.
Hence the substitute classes like this.
"My students, I didn't have class today either. The school hates seeing teachers idle."
The teacher grumbled as he wheeled over a whiteboard printed with staff lines.
"Since we're all here, let's talk about something useful. Even you slackers who skip my class, listen up."
I'd geared up to tackle tough theory, but this was a bit deflating—though not bad.
He grabbed a black marker and dotted the staff.
A repeat sign.
"You've all probably wondered about this symbol at least once. Why play the same part twice?"
From a listener's view, repeat signs were pretty fun.
You could compare the two plays, instantly gauging the performer's skill.
"Question: Why were repeat signs invented?"
"To show off the performer's various techniques, as far as I know."
I'd looked it up plenty, so the answer shot out instantly.
I subtly shoved Lee Seong-hyuk away as he poked me with lewd admiration.
"Correct. Various techniques—also called 'interpretation.' We need to dissect this interpretation closely. Same notations, same notes, but played differently... What do you think?"
The teacher tapped the board and eyed me. Subtly demanding an answer.
Same score, different performance.
I'd loved comparing recordings from various pianists. Hunting down countless versions, spotting differences from the original score—that was my hobby.
One realization from it all:
It all came down to the performer's attitude.
"I think it's only possible when the performer doesn't just read and accept the score, but truly masters the piece."
A performer breathes life into symbols frozen on the page, right? Performance is close to creation.
Only after fully owning the work can you produce varied interpretations from the same score.
"If you're swept away by the score, it's just repeating dry, worthless playing. For example, Horowitz in his later years, that homecoming recital..."
"Hold up."
Whoops, I was rambling.
Someone neatly cut me off with a confident, heavy voice.
"First off, you gotta play it through without mistakes before mastering the score or whatever. What that guy said is ridiculous."
Snickers spread around.
I turned—Myeong Woo-bin, hand raised, staring me down.
Slight disdain in his eyes.
Fact-checker type, huh?
Damn, couldn't argue.
He was spot on.
"And I think the score's instructions matter way more than the performer's take."
Myeong Woo-bin shot up, alternating glances between me and the teacher.
"Overinterpreting is overstepping, isn't it? If you wanna do your own music, switch majors to composition."
The room chilled fast. No laughs this time.
What's his deal all of a sudden?
Did I piss him off?
Definitely mocking tone. But his eyes weren't entirely light.
I figured we'd drop it, but he looked eager for my rebuttal.
...No choice.
"No. If the performer's interpretation is intuitive and the audience accepts it, that's a great performance. Even if it strays from the composer's intent."
As I finished, students' gazes swarmed like arrows. Eyes bouncing between us like ping-pong balls.
The teacher watched with interest, not intervening.
Myeong Woo-bin, fists clenched, fired back.
"Study the background and composer's life, and the score's info is plenty. Who's gonna accept some twisted playing?"
His blazing eyes locked on me.
He poured out his conviction raw. But I couldn't buy it.
The more you study background and life, the more the score falls short.
That's why the performer's 'creation' matters even more.
"Really? Listen to Shostakovich's symphonies once, and you couldn't say that. How you interpret his relationship with the Soviet government flips the mood 180 degrees—common knowledge. That's purely the conductor's call."
I caught a flash of bewilderment on Myeong Woo-bin's face.
Too harsh for a high schooler? But he'd challenged me as a fellow performer.
I hadn't meant to snap like that... Felt a bit ashamed. Should've played the adult.
"That's a special case...!"
As Myeong Woo-bin scowled, the teacher clapped, chuckling heartily.
"Hey, you two should just teach the class."
The heated vibe cooled instantly.
I plopped back into my seat, lips smacking. Guess I'd stood up without realizing.
Still, did I say anything wrong?
Myeong Woo-bin looked sheepish too, calming down.
"What? I said class starts."
"......Huh?"
What now?
The teacher, leaning on the podium calmly, beckoned us.
"You two, come up front and play a piece. Show us that interpretation you were talking about."
Ah, so it came to this.
True to Lee Seong-hyuk's words, I was in a full-on sound battle with Myeong Woo-bin. I pushed past his constant poking and walked up.
Myeong Woo-bin, ahead of me, wore a resolute expression.
Standing at the podium, looking down at the students, I let out a deep breath.
"I won't call either right or wrong. You all listen straight. What you take from these performances will shape today's lesson."
The teacher, slouched thoughtfully, suddenly perked up.
"Piece is Mozart K.545."
"What's 545...?"
"Piano Sonata No. 16."
I cut in; Myeong Woo-bin coughed awkwardly, annoyed.
"I know, No. 16. I got confused... Wait, Sonata No. 16?"
Then his eyes widened, rethinking the choice.
Reasonable reaction. Mozart Piano Sonata No. 16 K.545 was easy—beginner level.
Not fitting for an arts high school; more like kids' piano academy fodder.
"Kwon Do-hyun, you can play this, right?"
The teacher eyed me half-jokingly, half-seriously. I forced a grin and nodded.
"You know where—the first repeat sign."
He tapped the tablet on the podium, pulling up the score, and gestured. Short part, fit one screen.
"Myeong Woo-bin, you first."
"Yes."
He grabbed the tablet confidently, set it on the piano stand.
I stepped back, watching his back intently. Hiding most keys from the chair ain't easy.
"Ready? Go."
Short breath.
His fingers dropped straight to the keys.
Quick, light intro fitting the allegro mood.
Flying touch, perfect pacing. Smooth arpeggio transitions screamed experience.
He's good.
My head nodded on autopilot to the flawless play.
His style: straight-line power, masculine weight.
No wonder the confidence. Simple piece lays skill bare.
Repeat time.
First play done, he repositioned swiftly for the second.
Charged in strong again. I listened closely for variations.
...What?
No big changes.
Followed the repeat's emphasis on theme solidly, but lacked punch.
Like under-seasoned food—bland. Exactly the dry repetition I'd warned against.
Hold on.
Suddenly, his sound faded as I sank into thought.
A doubt rose.
...Can I play it better?
Critiquing's easy for anyone. Sure, it had flaws from my view, but nothing to dismiss.
Solid fundamentals—huge potential. Prime talent to praise.
Critiques are subjective taste; likes/dislikes are my bias.
But could I nail this piece mistake-free right now? Tough to say confidently.
Like Myeong Woo-bin said, all that interpretation talk's nonsense without basics.
"Stop. Good job."
His piece ended. He stood, bowed; class murmured admiration, then clapped.
"Whoa... He plays really well."
"Grinding his teeth on that one, right?"
"What about the next guy."
"Poor bastard..."
Hey, no pity needed.
Myeong Woo-bin walked back, stepping aside naturally. I was front and center.
Teacher, arms crossed, smiled faintly at me.
"Next, Kwon Do-hyun."
And my name was called.