Chapter 21
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Picking Colors
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I rushed back to the practice room and flung the door open.
A bead of cold sweat, chilled from the hurried run, trickled down past my ear.
"Ugh... I'm beat. Haven't run like that in ages."
"Hey, what was the big rush?"
Lee Ha-yeon stood with a hand on her chest, steadying her breath. Kim Ju-hee fanned herself, fluttering the collar of her shirt. Lee Seong-hyuk leaned on his knees, catching his air.
I scanned my panting teammates and spoke up.
"Ju-hee, you're going last... not robot, I mean."
"Me? Last? Out of nowhere?"
"Here's the deal—uhm."
I wanted to explain it clearly, but my shortness of breath kept tangling my words.
I paced circles around the practice room, sorting my thoughts as best I could.
"Looks like we need to switch up the performance order. No, we have to."
"Why? Weren't we good with the current lineup?"
They all stared at me, faces full of confusion. I glanced back and forth between Lee Ha-yeon and Kim Ju-hee before continuing.
"Lee Ha-yeon can't go last."
"...Ha-yeon?"
It was like yesterday's practice run replayed in their heads.
Kim Ju-hee rolled her eyes, her expression vague as she trailed off.
"But everyone saves their best player for last, right? To stay competitive, shouldn't we...?"
It was a fair point, of course. I'd grilled myself on it endlessly while figuring this out.
So now, I had to prove my call with music—for my teammates, and for the audience and teachers who'd hear us.
The convincing payoff of slotting Kim Ju-hee at the end.
"What's the most important thing in this evaluation?"
Lee Seong-hyuk, listening with keen interest, answered.
"Cohesion... harmony of sounds. It's the biggest chunk of the judging criteria."
"Right. Four of us making one piece of music. Sounds obvious at first glance."
As Kim Ju-hee said, just about every group shoved their ace to the finale.
"The eval's built around four people playing one song. But if we just take turns in sequence, doesn't that automatically make 'one music'?"
Because four play together, it becomes one song.
It sounded close, but the meanings weren't exactly the same—and that was key.
"Think about practicing solo. Parts to emphasize, spots to soften the touch, builds for tension... everyone interprets differently."
Lee Ha-yeon and Lee Seong-hyuk let out short sounds of realization.
Yeah. We had to become one performer.
Forget four players. Imagine a single pianist on this piece—position us right, unify the flow, and true harmony emerges.
"Treating teammates as separate performers leads to focusing on individual showmanship to wow the crowd at the end."
They'd all fallen hard for that misconception. Myself included, until moments ago.
Kim Ju-hee tilted her head, half-getting it.
"But there's a coda... and our song's highlight is the very end, right? So Ha-yeon closing makes sense."
Perfect—she'd nailed a key spot. I smiled easily.
"Sure, finale's the climax. Now picture your best player nailing it."
"Ah...!"
Kim Ju-hee clapped lightly as it clicked.
In an eval where no one should dominate, spotlighting one star might be the worst move.
'Flip it: if one teammate can match Ha-yeon's performance...'
Show Ha-yeon's skill fully, but close with perfect flow.
And I'd picked Kim Ju-hee for that role.
"So that's why I'm last?"
"Yeah."
Kim Ju-hee paused her dangling hand, twirling her hair as she looked down.
"...Why me? It's a lot of pressure. I heard Woo-bin and Yu-jin's groups have them closing too—I'll get compared hard."
Unbelievable. This was the girl who'd fretted about being overshadowed by Ha-yeon—now handing her the stage, she loses her nerve.
As I pondered what to say, lines from the snack bar kids flashed back.
"Hey, you gotta try to know. You might outplay them."
"Pfft, no way."
I pressed on, eyeing her lingering doubt.
"Jeong Hye-won—you just gonna let that slide?"
Her vibe shifted at the name from my lips.
This was it—betting on Kim Ju-hee's competitive fire.
I wedged in deeper.
"Even if we win on score, what if they claim we rode one coattail? Not great for Ha-yeon or us."
"...True."
"You wanna beat her, right? Just show it. I think you can."
She eyed me skeptically, head cocked.
"What makes you so sure?"
"...Gut feeling?"
"What kinda answer is that."
My grand speech fizzled on weak evidence—awkward.
But I had my own grudge to settle too.
Kim Ju-hee wasn't the only one who could sub for Ha-yeon at the end, but for revenge, why not let her land it herself?
Ruining her tteokbokki hype was crime enough.
"...Fine. Yeah, I'll do it."
She exhaled deep, head up, resolve half-mixed with doubt in her eyes.
Good enough.
"Smart call."
With Ju-hee on board, the rest fell into place. I skimmed the score and told Lee Seong-hyuk.
"Ha-yeon first. After her part, ease the tempo to hand off smooth—gentler than Ju-hee's take."
"You third as is?"
"Yeah, feels right."
Treat it like a fresh run, map the broad flow.
Revamped structure shifts the whole vibe.
"Two, three—."
On my count, Lee Ha-yeon launched the first part.
'She shines anywhere... skill that doesn't quit.'
Unless the mood clashed hard with her tone, Ha-yeon always delivered full force.
I liked her punchier-than-usual touch, pressing each note.
How does a player like this go all soft and warm later? She'd barely shown flashy rep in concerts.
'This impact's perfect for a killer opener.'
If Ju-hee closes as envisioned...
Our balance—sound harmony—could hit top tier.
"Seong-hyuk, ready."
"Got it."
At Ju-hee's whisper, Lee Seong-hyuk placed fingers on keys.
His seamless follow-up. I savored it, then let out a quiet gasp.
'Leading better than expected?'
Second part suited Seong-hyuk's sound over Ju-hee's.
Sneaky all-rounder. No standout flair, but he tweaks touch to fit the mood.
'My turn.'
Last time I was third too—same approach worked.
Weekend practice on task song? Add a touch of leisurely pull.
"Ju-hee, don't tense up."
Seong-hyuk's murmur cued my prep for her handoff.
dolce, soft. Built calm from here through the legato bars.
'Now.'
Ju-hee's fingers dropped to keys.
I blanked Ha-yeon's prior finale, ears open. Focus pure on Ju-hee now.
'...Hasn't shaken the pressure fully.'
Didn't even take a few bars. Plenty for my brow to furrow.
She scrambled to track the score, center unmoored in her playing.
'Nerves, burden, lack of confidence...'
I reflected.
Usually no trace of gloom or shyness—why so unsure at the piano? No clue. Beyond me.
Pep talks like "you got this" peaked at assigning her last. Separate from my belief in her potential.
Words were done.
I wouldn't pry or fix her confidence roots. Not my lane.
But to boost her momentum now...
'Gotta support where I can.'
I chose her for closer—as leader, own it.
Quick breath, then hammered keys.
"!"
Ju-hee's shoulders twitched across the piano.
I ignored, synced our playing.
"Keep going."
Like a two-piano duo.
Like that brief percussion collab.
I'd pave for the leader.
First bike ride: someone steadying from behind brings instant stability.
Like that—I'd push her back to unleash freely.
"Listen and follow."
Timing bass nudges, she found her groove.
Shakiness faded, face cleared.
No need to cling to "finale" weight.
I wanted her relaxed, deep in the zone.
'Yeah, play easy like that.'
I'd already withdrawn my guiding hand.
She dove fully into music, oblivious, pressing on.
'Climax buildup.'
poco ritard, slow tempo for pre-storm bar.
Ha-yeon nailed the lax-yet-uneasy wobble textbook-style.
'Tough for Ju-hee...'
But unleashing her cozy, delicate touch? Climax shines her strengths.
'...What.'
My mouth hung open unwittingly.
The casual listen plunged into emotional depths.
p.
That tiny letter sufficed. One strike distilled the prior five minutes into languid flow.
'This... this is the Ju-hee sound I wanted...'
No time to pinpoint the trigger.
Left hand signaled finale kickoff.
Staccato barrages, diminuendos unchecked. Forte to fortissimo control flawless.
Volume surged. Tension teetered like tightrope thrill.
Long legato fed bursting euphoria to all ears, then...
'Here, smorzando.'
Fading out.
She spread string resonance into air, hit thick bass, and closed.
Crushing keys and pedal for dying buzz, Ju-hee sighed huge.
Tilted head caught fluorescents in clear, sparkling eyes.
"Done."
I stared at her dazed mutter, face blank.
"How was it? Okay...?"
Hands off keys, she grinned sheepishly.
We ran it a few more times in the same order.
Playback of our synced recording? Pure bliss, hard to hide.
"Way better than before. Yeah, love it."
"Ju-hee, respect. What flipped the switch? Awakened?"
"No need for that... I was surprised too."
"Nah, it was that good. Might eat those 'carried' words."
"Really? Wanna replay later? Hehe, was it?"
Ju-hee fishing for more praise. Seong-hyuk teasing under compliments. Ha-yeon sidelined from chat.
I circled my teammates, replaying mentally.
Our four lines intertwining in my head—thrilling buzz.
'One minor itch.'
The very first run—not the last—was my favorite.
Cause? Her getting lost, me assisting briefly.
'Her immersion then was unreal...'
Later tries teased the sound I craved from her, but hazy.
Couldn't nail her catalyst. Regret.
More practice'll reveal. Time fixes.
'Nailed direction today—lucky.'
Practice and tweaks wrapped.
Ha-yeon and Seong-hyuk bailed early for dorms, skipping dinner from fatigue.
Me? Grab chow first. Tteokbokki gone already.
Growth spurt?
"Ye-ri's group practicing late, huh..."
Kim Ju-hee's voice snapped my musing.
She fidgeted legs, phone in hand, then looked up sharp.
"Right, leader."
"Yeah."
"Got your change. You rich or what? Don't know money's value?"
She handed bills and coins with a grumpy glare.
"Oh yeah, that. You actually brought it?"
"Idiot... You bolted solo in a huff, left me scrambling—ridiculous."
Slipped my mind.
Dad's business thriving dulled my money sense—acting loaded or poverty payback.
Rein it in. Begging daily's embarrassing.
"Um, hey."
While I pondered, she tugged my sleeve.
"Yeah, spit it."
"...Thanks."
She turned away mumbling—barely caught it.
"Couldn't hear. What?"
"Thanks, dummy."
She whipped her head up; face flushed awkward.
"I'll really give it my all. Beat Jeong Hye-won too..."
I chuckled down at her murmur.
Cute—proper thoughts and all.
"You better. That's why you're closing."
Didn't feel I merited thanks for anything special.
She had it in her all along. Me? Just bike-steadying, like I said.
"Argh. But if Woo-bin wins, Ye-ri's group auto-wins too. How to console? Stuck apart from Ye-ri..."
Hmm, overconfidence bad.
Worrying for head-clutching, losing Ye-ri already? Not the vibe.
Over a week left—daily drills ahead.
"Hey, Woo-bin already beat us? Their closer's him, right?"
"Aaah—forgot!"