Chapter 15
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Hide or Reveal (3)
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“Next, Seo Ye-ri.”
The name of our class president was the first to be called when the test resumed.
Seo Ye-ri lifted her head with a calm expression.
“Yes, Teacher.”
As she stepped forward, quiet words of encouragement rose from here and there. Seo Ye-ri responded with a soft smile to her friends.
I caught a glimpse of her slightly bowed head as she passed by me, her eyes gleaming sharply.
She’s got her resolve set.
Seated at the piano, she brushed back her hair vigorously, as if to shake off her tension.
“Start when you’re ready.”
“Yes.”
Seo Ye-ri gently placed her long fingers on the keys.
Soon, a lively melody began to envelop the classroom.
“Nice, great sense of rhythm.”
As someone murmured, her sense of rhythm was truly excellent.
A simple yet ear-catching melody, flawless and unwavering. It faithfully followed the ticking metronome.
That was when the two percussionists exchanged glances.
Here they go.
The closed hi-hat vibrated a few times before slipping into the gaps between the melody notes.
A perfect, no-frills downbeat. A basic eight-beat rhythm with light fills layered over the piano.
The moment Seo Ye-ri’s expression began to melt into the melody as she continued playing—
Ku-gu-gu-gung—!
The timpani and bass drum suddenly sliced through the beat and surged up.
Much faster than before.
Her shoulders twitched at the abrupt whirlwind of sound.
Eighth notes turned to sixteenths, sixteenths to thirty-seconds. They struck various drums and cymbals with ad-libs galore, and even the mighty timpani tormented the piano.
It wasn’t just speeding up relentlessly. It would plunge down to catch its breath, then flare up again in repetition.
As if determined to shake the piano to its core, the irregular percussion rhythms grew ferocious.
“Ah...!”
A desperate sound escaped Seo Ye-ri’s lips.
The kids who had been cheering her on now covered their mouths lightly, furrowing their brows.
What the hell is this...
The performance had devolved into something that could no longer be called ensemble playing.
Thoroughly flustered, Seo Ye-ri desperately tried to chase the percussion’s rhythm, but it was no easy feat.
“Kuh—!”
The drummer let out a satisfied exclamation, his face beaming with a grin.
The bass drum pumped fiercely in succession. To him, this space was his solo stage. The piano was merely something like a chasing accompaniment.
Seo Ye-ri could only grit her teeth and flail against the tide.
“Ears open. Listen and follow.”
Teacher Choi Je-hun, arms crossed, issued a curt command.
“Tempo.”
His voice carried a frost-like solemnity. The heavy pressure bore down on Seo Ye-ri even more.
Sweat beaded at her temples. She had long abandoned the pedals.
She seemed to have already lost track of where she was heading.
Like being sucked into an unfathomable quagmire, her upper body began to hunch forward.
Bam bam bam.
Bam bam bam—!
The timpani’s taut plastic head boomed, rattling eardrums.
“Tempo.”
The teacher’s icy word lashed down like a whip.
Her trembling shoulders and wrists refused to obey.
She even attempted an overly ambitious octave and missed the touch.
When she could no longer control the force going into the keys—
“Stop.”
The teacher halted all playing, along with the metronome.
The vibrating cymbal hummed with its aftertone.
The onlookers were all speechless.
“Back to your seat.”
At the teacher’s order, Seo Ye-ri didn’t move for a moment. She sat with fists clenched on her thighs, head bowed deeply.
“Seo Ye-ri?”
“...Yes! Thank you!”
She sprang up abruptly, flashing a bright smile and bowing to the teacher.
Returning briskly, she instead comforted the worried kids around her.
“Wasn’t that way too intense this time?”
“Yeah, felt kinda bad for Seo Ye-ri.”
The students, chilled, rubbed their arms and shared their impressions. Some even silently prayed their names wouldn’t be called.
Proof of just how brutal that performance had been for Seo Ye-ri.
“Next.”
A chill swept the room in an instant. Tension like a blade at the throat lingered briefly.
The teacher looked up.
“Kwon Do-hyun.”
Finally, my name was called.
With a small cheer from Lee Seong-hyuk, I walked to the front of the classroom.
I plopped down at the piano and placed the sheet music on the stand.
No key signature. 4/4 time, tempo at 100. A simple piece centered on a bright melody.
Nothing tricky. The climax is in the final part, I guess.
I didn’t know much about the techniques or harmonies used. What mattered was that I could play it without difficulty.
Glancing back, the drummer shot me a look. That faint smile hinted at malice, grating on my nerves.
“Ready?”
Teacher Choi Je-hun asked, one corner of his mouth lifted. I nodded with a light smile.
Now that it’s my turn, I’m a bit tense.
I took a steady breath, mentally reviewing the score. The moment I placed my hands on the keys, a snare drum thumped from behind.
Not matching the beat, but a rhythm like calling someone.
Sure enough, the drummer twirled his sticks with a mocking grin.
“What’s with all the tension? This doesn’t count for evaluation.”
“Hey, we were all like that as freshmen. Gotta cut ’em some slack.”
The teacher showed no sign of intervening. Maybe trash-talking was part of the test.
“Sunbae, you must be pretty drained from handling my friends so far.”
“Plenty left for you. It’ll be over quick anyway.”
I let out a shallow sigh.
Sunbae this, sunbae that—they were still third-years, barely 19.
I didn’t enjoy trading blows with kids, but this was different.
“I’ve got practice after school today, so I’ll go easy. Just keep up or don’t.”
“You...!”
The drummer’s strained voice was swallowed flawlessly by a thick low-register key thump.
Start whenever—I was ready.
Striking the keys, the metronome ticked right away. I played as plainly as possible, sticking to the beat.
The piano solo continued for a bit, then the bass drum thumped three or four times, signaling serious interference.
Kwaang!
The timpani launch was brimming with boiling emotion. A fortissimo blast echoed through the room.
Hitting that hard without muddiness isn’t easy at all.
The racing percussion rhythm and piano melody clashed dysharmoniously as the performance pressed on.
I tuned my ears to the misaligned gaps, calmly grasping the ensemble’s core. The simple score gave me room to do so.
Stay cool first. Give the percussion some space.
They were geniuses too, raised on praise.
Not playing haphazardly—they stuck to the basics while pounding away.
They varied irregularly to disrupt the piano, but matching them revealed the flow.
Then I’ll lay the foundation.
So, I decided to follow their rhythm.
I’d planned to overpower them aggressively at first, but that would just rile them up to chase viciously.
I didn’t want to ruin the music. Competition would kill the original’s gentle feel.
To make good music, the piano yielding to percussion was right.
About here...
Counting beats inwardly, I lifted my hands from the keys.
Stopping the performance entirely.
Dropping both hands below the piano, I heard the students murmur.
Startled by the sudden move, the rampaging percussion began to lose steam.
I did nothing, focusing all senses on their sounds and the metronome’s pace.
Then, I raised my right hand and tapped a single key lightly.
Dung— dung—
As softly as possible, like marking territory.
My signal that I’d join the performance soon.
Whatever they play, I’ll match it.
Chaeng—! The hi-hat crashed loudly.
Matching that cue, I resumed the piano.
This time, like a true accompanist, I stuck tightly behind the percussion, tapping along.
The two percussionists gradually lost their way.
Obviously. They’d played only to disrupt the piano, and the target vanished.
Having lost their prey, they had no choice but orthodox playing.
The rhythm led by two skilled percussionists was quite convincing.
“...Wow.”
A faint gasp rose in the classroom.
The piano forcibly tailing them created far better music. The three instruments meshed smoothly.
Now, sounds befitting “ensemble” resonated.
Drums led the beat, piano followed, techniques intertwined into soft waves.
I smiled, recalling this morning’s brief vision of drum-piano duo.
They’re good when they try.
Glancing back during the pleasant performance—
The timpani and drummer stared at me, eyes swallowed by confusion. Their mechanically busy hands on the drums were amusing.
Hey, having fun?
I mouthed that, grinning at the sunbaes.
A few more students performed after me.
Counting roughly, not all Class A participated. Names like Baek Ji-ho or Lee Ha-yeon weren’t called.
Meaning the top tiers didn’t need testing.
“Test ends here. Good work, everyone.”
At Teacher Choi Je-hun’s “end,” the classroom tension dissolved instantly. Relieved voices drifted limply.
In the slight commotion, Lee Seong-hyuk teased.
“Hey, that was awesome earlier. You planned to shut them down, huh?”
“Shut down? As if I’d play with impure motives.”
The percussion sunbaes, finishing a brief chat with the teacher, turned to leave.
Their glances my way held unease as they exited.
Cute, still kids.
They play well, though. Third-years, so expected.
As students calmed, sharing thoughts, Teacher Choi Je-hun received a sheet.
Skimming it, he spoke.
“Quiet. Before returning to seats, a brief 1st evaluation announcement.”
Right, he’d mentioned it before class.
The lax mood tightened again. First evaluation—kids wanted to prepare thoroughly.
“What do you think about when performing for an audience?”
Meeting students’ eyes calmly, the teacher chuckled softly.
“Ah—nothing comes to mind, right? Too busy playing to think.”
His playful tone drew light laughs.
True, emotions surging blank the mind. Fingers yield to unchecked feelings, no room for calculation.
“Studio drills fly out the window live. Performance is unconscious energy release.”
He paced the front, gesturing a small explosion with both hands.
“Unconscious—deep in your mind. 1st evaluation focuses there.”
Noting half-understanding faces, he smiled warmly.
“To tap unconscious: create channels between people. Impact is immense.”
Flipping the roll sheet, he paused, then spoke gravely.
“1st evaluation: groups of four. Content: four members take turns on the same piece.”
“...Turns?”
“Same piece?”
The bombshell plunged the room into chaos.
No wonder—I couldn’t quite grasp it either.
Four playing one piece? What?
Not ensemble, dividing movements?
“No limits on selection, runtime, movements, part timings. Team up, complete one piece your way.”
“What does that...”
“Not just one movement each?”
Amid the clamor of grumbles and questions, he raised his voice.
“Piano’s solo, sure. But holing up practicing alone fades your color to monochrome.”
His face said he enjoyed the flustered reactions.
Adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses, he added finally.
“Clash, compromise, make it work. Dismissed.”
Dismissed like that, he waved the roll sheet and shuffled out.
“Details in writing. See you on evaluation day!”
Even beaming Kwon Se-hee Teacher hurried off.
Watching their backs, I sighed softly.
...Four on one piece.
Simply put, relay performance. Four players likely meant two pianos.
I’d seen similar, but it was disorienting.
Not just ‘play this assignment.’
Maybe I’d underestimated arts high.
Sense unclear, but seemed fun.
“Guess we need groups first.”
I said to Lee Seong-hyuk.
Behind his nodding grin, kids already bustled about.