Chapter 12
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Conviction (3)
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The classroom during break time was abuzz with chatter. It brimmed with the vibrant energy of high schoolers. Not a bad vibe at all, since everyone was mixed in together.
"That guy's not the type to show much interest in anyone else's playing."
Lee Seong-hyuk, sitting next to me, was still going on about what happened in the last class.
"They say he doesn't pay attention to anything but his own music. Pretty unusual, right?"
Setting aside what kind of person Baek Ji-ho was, it was surprising enough that he'd spoken positively about my performance.
Of all people, Baek Ji-ho—the one I'd only ever watched from afar at concerts.
Life really throws some wild curves.
Wonder if there'll ever come a day when I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him... Or maybe even surpass him?
Oh, just imagining it sends a thrill down my spine.
"Well, you nailed it, so that's probably why he said that. Honestly, I was shocked too. It was really good."
"Thanks, man. But are classes gonna keep going like this from now on?"
"Depends on the teacher, but probably not. You gave them the opening today."
"...Yeah, fair enough."
I couldn't really deny it.
What was I supposed to do when the words just burst out of me?
"The first evaluation notice should be coming soon, and classes will revolve around that. No idea what it'll involve, though."
"Whatever it is, I hope they give us plenty of practice time."
"Crush Myeong Woo-bin when it happens. Today's left a bad taste, hasn't it?"
Lee Seong-hyuk teased, nudging my shoulder.
"Crush him? Come on."
I lightly shoved the guy away as he clung to me.
It wasn't about lacking confidence—competing to beat someone just wasn't my style. In piano, chasing victory turns music into an afterthought.
That's why I never cared much for ranked competitions.
At least competitions don't target minors. As they should.
Anyway, now that I'm in Class A, I can't completely ignore evaluation scores.
Lee Seong-hyuk said Class A students get way more slots in events and special classes.
Of course, assigned by grades.
Not just maintaining Class A, but constant competition within it too.
I'll figure out the rest once the first evaluation details drop.
Practice comes first.
Lunchtime at the cafeteria, and true to arts high school form, faint classical music played in the background.
It was a Chopin piano piece, but most students griped about playing pop songs instead during meals. Requests never changed a thing.
"That's what I told you. From now on, when you talk to me, just... tone it down a bit."
Myeong Woo-bin, seated in the middle of the cafeteria, didn't even glance at the girl addressing him.
His eyes were fixed on one spot.
Kwon Do-hyun.
All his attention was on the guy laughing it up with some random dude.
His chopsticks had been still on his tray for ages.
Jeong Hye-won, sitting across from him, pouted.
"What're you doing? Eat already."
"Huh."
Myeong Woo-bin blinked and set his chopsticks down with a clack.
Jeong Hye-won glanced where his gaze had been lingering and nodded.
"Oh... him? Kwon Do-hyun, right? The one who suddenly stood up today."
"I stood up first."
"Whatever. What gave him the guts? Hilarious."
Myeong Woo-bin had been like this ever since music theory class ended.
A heavy unease settled in his chest.
Kwon Do-hyun...
The guy who should crack open the textbook and practice properly before spouting theory. Gotta give him credit for the boldness to speak up with that skill level.
But the problem was, I couldn't counter his argument properly.
Worse, even now, no solid rebuttal came to mind. That stung the most.
Having his convictions outright denied wasn't a pleasant experience.
"His playing was unique, sure, but nothing compared to yours... Everyone else thought so too."
Of course, evaluations favored Myeong Woo-bin's performance. He firmly believed his was superior.
Still, he couldn't shake the odd discomfort.
"But why'd Ji-ho suddenly defend him? They know each other or something?"
Baek Ji-ho.
The one he'd always trailed behind—stepping in to praise Kwon Do-hyun's playing felt off.
Myeong Woo-bin had never seen Baek Ji-ho comment on others' performances. That wasn't the Baek Ji-ho he knew.
It felt like an indirect way of saying his own stance was wrong, stirring unwelcome self-doubt.
"Maybe he pitied the guy since no one else spoke up."
But if a little shake-up like this changed his musical outlook, he never would've chosen piano.
Myeong Woo-bin still believed he was right.
He sighed, brushing away the memory of Kwon Do-hyun's carefree Mozart sonata performance.
He gulped down water irritably, barely touching his food.
"And you, still messing with Seo Ye-ri? We're in high school now—grow up."
"Ugh—."
Jeong Hye-won, fiddling with her phone, groaned in annoyance.
"Kim Ju-hee started it...! You shouldn't do that to me, you know?"
"...Just don't go too far."
Myeong Woo-bin lost his appetite and pushed his tray aside.
After regular classes ended, during after-school hours.
I shot a quick reply to Lee Seong-hyuk's text and pocketed my phone.
Dad's heading overseas for a business trip soon—gotta see him one last time before he goes.
That left the practice room booked under Lee Seong-hyuk's name all mine.
Was gonna learn a few things from him, but oh well.
Worked out fine. I'd planned to revisit today's class performance and review feedback anyway.
One thing I'm confident in: listening to myself.
Steps light as I grabbed the recording right after class and climbed the stairs.
Floors 5 through 7 were dedicated to practice rooms and major classrooms. Higher grades got lower floors, so first-years unofficially claimed the top-floor rooms on 7.
Sucked being a freshman, but the faint melodies drifting from every corridor made it pleasant.
"Room 711."
I opened the reserved door. A faint dusty smell greeted me first.
One piano, music stand, radiator, folding chair—that was it. No windows inside, just a round glass pane in the door.
"Oh... Steinway."
Not Yamaha or Kawai, but Steinway. How many rooms had these pricey babies?
Pressed a key—unlike our home piano, tuning was spot-on. Probably all tuned over break.
Plopped down at the piano and pulled up the recording on my phone. No time to savor my first arts high practice room moment.
I'll get used to it eventually.
Time to practice.
Shelving basics for now, I listened critically as an audience member.
Do-mi-sol, si-do-re-do—the lively melody kicked off.
Not much difference, surprisingly.
People usually find their recorded voice awkward.
Expected the same for piano, but it matched my live playing closely.
First take was solid, barring minor slips.
No matter how I slice it, my core tone is just good.
My timbre was like ice crystals—sharp rather than smooth, crisp without stickiness, sparkling.
Such a voice suited bright pieces mostly.
Like this Mozart sonata.
Key section here.
Da capo brought the second repeat, melodies overlapping.
Strong start. The intent to crush the intruder shone through.
Taut as pulled muscle fibers, thrillingly precarious.
Minor nitpick: rushed tempo control from impatience. Swayed by emotion briefly, but given the curveball, I'll let it slide.
"Not bad overall..."
Recording ended. I sat idly, tapping keys ding-ding, gathering thoughts.
"Problem is, the sound isn't coming out exactly as I envision."
Alongside basics, that'd be priority one.
Reproducing imagined sounds with fingers was no easy feat.
How hard to press this key, how long to hold, timing gap to the next...
Only through endless experience could I hone the feel to approach my ideal tone.
Still lacking.
Basics go without saying.
Intentionally breaking a phrase slur came off smoother than keeping it.
Meaning, I hadn't internalized even basic notation yet.
I rolled my phone in my hand and let out a short breath.
No need to get down about it.
Good timbre was a huge pianist asset. A unique weapon handed to me.
After all, why despair so soon after starting piano?
Straightened up, searched videos of pros playing the same piece, hit play.
Not some textbook—studied their shoulders, wrists, fingers intently.
One phrase at a time: compare recording, compare live keys, rigorously.
"Maybe push smoother."
Mid-experiment, twisting wrists to find natural finger flow—
What the?
Sensed an intense stare.
Paused video, turned—shadowy figure beyond the door's glass.
Not a reflection; looked ready to burst through.
Plenty of reservation time left?
Something wrong? Hurried over, flung the door open.
"...?"
Corridor silent save faint instruments. Whoever was there had vanished.
Tilted head, glanced—girl against the wall, back turned, shoulder peeking.
Failed to hide without cover.
"Hey."
Parted long black hair, tapped narrow shoulder.
She flinched, slowly turned foot and head.
Straight hair swung, revealing strikingly pale skin—the girl was Lee Ha-yeon.
Genius of geniuses, rivaling Baek Ji-ho.
The one whose legendary performances I'd looped endlessly.
...Why's she here?
"Lee Ha-yeon?"
"Uh... yeah."
Her calm eyes darted wildly, lost.
Then suddenly, she composed herself, meeting my gaze steadily.
"Hi."
Cool voice greeted me.
Bit late for hellos... Still, polite reply.
"What were you doing? Out here."
"Just passing by and... happened to."
Her words circled; went direct.
"Heading to practice?"
"Yeah."
Awkward silence followed her answer.
She clutched her dangling right arm with her left, eyes on the floor, lips sealed. No sign of leaving either.
Last time we talked... almost ten years? Twenty pre-regression.
Strange mix of nostalgia and nerves.
Up close, her large hands shyly clasped caught my eye. Matched mine—top-tier for a female pianist.
Neck properly arched too, pure pro posture.
How much practice does it take to get like that? No wonder she plays so well.
Needed a topic. Idea struck.
"Hey, help me practice a bit."