Chapter 43
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Don't Get Cocky
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Music teachers weren't granted any respite just because non-music written exams were approaching. After midterms ended, they had to tackle the third evaluation along with a slew of other schedules.
Choi Je-hun stared at his monitor, brow furrowed, clutching a mug of steaming hot coffee.
"Teacher."
Choi Je-hun, mid-sip of his Americano, coughed at the sound of his name and turned to see three students approaching with earnest gazes.
"And who might you be?"
"I'm from Class B, and these two are from Class C. Piano Department."
They were unfamiliar faces. Choi Je-hun nodded vaguely, as if he had some idea. Of course, he still didn't know their names.
"What brings the likes of you to me?"
"We couldn't accept Kwon Do-hyun's score."
"The teacher said to come directly for any objections."
They weren't disputing their own scores, but Kwon Do-hyun's perfect mark.
Choi Je-hun scratched his temple with the end of his pen, as if nursing a headache. He thought to himself that in this school, neither students nor teachers ever just nodded along obediently.
"Names."
"Kim Seong-hyun, Ha Ji-min, Ham Da-bin."
"Kim Seong-hyun, Ha Ji-min, Ham Da-bin..."
"Bin, as in Berlin Philharmonic."
Flipping through the student roster, a pattern jumped out.
98 points from Class B, 96 and 94 from Class C—the top scorers in the second evaluation.
They seemed to have come seeking a way to dock Kwon Do-hyun's points, reluctant to forfeit the bet from class placement exams.
"I've heard students can formally request score reviews."
"Does that rule say it's for dragging down someone else's score?"
"W-well, but you made that bet..."
The student who'd spoken up first deflated instantly. Choi Je-hun swiveled his chair, fiddling with his stubbly chin as he eyed them.
'Might as well settle this once and for all.'
Straightening up, he rapidly clicked his mouse and continued.
"Fine, let's do it. Nitpick flaws in someone else's performance to shave off points."
"T-teacher, you don't have to put it like that..."
"By your precious rules, this shouldn't even fly."
The students clamped their mouths shut, hopeful anticipation flickering in their eyes.
If they could just endure this and snag some leverage, they'd score a ticket straight to Class A—complete with exemption from next semester's placement exams.
"Eyes here. Kwon Do-hyun's exam footage."
Choi Je-hun played Kwon Do-hyun's performance from the second evaluation recording.
The students leaned in eagerly, straining to spot errors. The staff room noise faded into oblivion for them.
'Kwon Do-hyun... what a freak.'
Choi Je-hun propped his chin on his hand, smirking as he watched alongside them.
The shock from yesterday came rushing back. He usually ignored Han Yong-seong's theatrics, but the kid's show had been undeniably impressive.
He, who never dreamed of handing out perfect 100s to three students without hesitation.
"Ah."
"Whoa..."
The standing students gasped involuntarily. Their scrutinizing glares softened into appreciative awe.
As the trio got fully sucked into the performance, mouths agape, the piece neared its finale.
"Mr. Choi, what're you up to?"
That's when the trumpet teacher who'd judged the second evaluation wandered over.
"These kids have questions about the scores."
"Aw, how diligent. Persistent questioning like that builds good study habits."
"I agree."
"But... isn't that the kid from yesterday on screen?"
The trumpet teacher peeked over the partition, shooting Choi Je-hun a puzzled look.
"Kwon... Do-hyun, right? I figured he'd get a perfect score no question. Where'd you dock points?"
She scanned the students' faces one by one, then fixed her gaze on the screen. Her head started swiveling back and forth repeatedly.
Catching on, she covered her mouth with a small hand.
"You'll do even better next exam, kids. Go get 'em...!"
With an awkward cheer, the trumpet teacher hurried off just as Kwon Do-hyun's performance ended.
The lead protester cleared his throat awkwardly. The others furtively tugged at each other's clothes, exchanging grim looks with furrowed brows.
Choi Je-hun spun his chair back and crossed his legs.
"Not good enough? Want the rubric too?"
"Ahem."
"No, we're good..."
"Thanks for your time. Goodbye."
Scratching their heads, they bowed deeply and spun on their heels.
As they bolted for the door, Choi Je-hun snagged them with one line.
"You brats."
"Y-yes!"
They whipped around creakily, meeting his eyes. Choi Je-hun sniffed and jabbed a finger at them.
"Didn't you hear what Kwon Do-hyun said yesterday?"
"What..."
"Don't get cocky."
"..."
The students just bowed mutely and shuffled out.
With the commotion over, Choi Je-hun felt drained. He let out a long sigh, and Han Yong-seong sidled up behind him.
"Coffee?"
"Got one already."
"Figured, so I just got mine."
Ignoring Choi Je-hun's exasperated look, Han Yong-seong sipped his mug and pressed on.
"What was that about? Those kids."
"Couldn't swallow Kwon Do-hyun's perfect score."
"They should've known better than to stretch out where they sleep. They saw it themselves."
"One from B, two from C."
"And he wasn't the only perfect score anyway."
Leaning his chin on the desk partition, Han Yong-seong stared blankly at where the students had vanished, then let out a short "Ah—."
"That bet back then? You're saying it wasn't a joke...?"
Choi Je-hun nodded silently. Han Yong-seong chuckled hollowly.
"Must've been somewhat underwhelming before, for kids to dismiss him so openly."
"Check the class recordings and first eval footage later."
"A teacher making bets with students... you're something else."
Choi Je-hun turned to Han Yong-seong's intrigued expression.
"Lessons all set?"
"Headmaster said the demand survey's coming right up."
"Think you can handle it? Teaching Kwon Do-hyun might not be fun."
Glancing around furtively and confirming no one nearby, Han Yong-seong lowered his voice and shifted tone.
"He's new to piano, right? Bet there's gaps. I just fill 'em."
"Hm."
"I never steal the wheel."
Sipping his coffee, Han Yong-seong continued.
"Guys like that—you don't grab the reins. I just flick on the headlights."
Our school's library was better equipped than I'd expected.
Spots for laptops and gadgets, big tables for groups, even solo partitioned desks.
Not that I was dying to know.
"Do-hyun, why's the answer like this? Even the solution feels like it's skipping steps."
"Use the root-coefficient relation. Start with induction."
"...?"
"Ditch math and hit memorization subjects. Seriously, that's efficient."
"Driving me nuts."
"Heh heh, folks, we've got a grade 5 math reservation here..."
"Ju-hee, you're about my level. And the only solid grade 5 is Ha-yeon."
"Why drag me into this..."
"Library, idiots."
"Shh!"
Kim Ju-hee clamped her mouth with both hands, eyes wide, then beamed.
'...Seeing Ju-hee smile fills me up.'
We'd ended up in the after-school study hall. Not daily, but we'd agreed I'd tutor occasionally. More like democratic strong-arming. I figured it paid back piano lessons she'd given me.
With nothing else, I cracked open a music theory book—the one subject I was weakest in.
'Tough... way too tough.'
Staring holes through it, the notes seemed to float up. Building from basics tangled my brain.
Music theory was like a leaky sponge to me.
If a piece hooked me, I'd copy the score and roughly analyze techniques—but surface-level. Tough stuff? I'd bail.
I thought I was decent for self-taught, dog-level discipline. Now it felt like fumbling chopsticks till proper form wrecked my grip.
'Plus, theory's so rigid.'
Expressing fluid, flowing lines as dots on a staff felt so artificial.
I could spot common patterns in note flows or structures, but defining and dissecting them? Agony.
'For performers, form and theory are just tools, right...'
Screw it. I shut the book and slumped, cheek on the cover.
Just play it sounding good. Harmonics this, tritone that? Beats me.
'But Schoenberg or Bach? Digging deep into theory might make 'em more fun...'
Just lazy? Brain gone rusty?
As I grimaced and groaned, Lee Seong-hyuk and Kim Ju-hee shot me odd looks, like I was a weirdo.
"What?"
"Go play piano. Won't stop you."
"No way! Jo-long's the only one I can ask."
"Voice down. Why not study with Ye-ri?"
"Ye-ri sucks at it too. Isn't that cute?"
"You got no shortage of cute."
"Ye-ri's all cute..."
She wasn't that type, but it cracked me up anyway.
Face down on the desk, a breeze whispered by. Late afternoon coolness hit right.
As eyelids drooped, Lee Seong-hyuk tossed out a topic.
"Heard? Piano Department's starting private lesson demand surveys."
"What's that?"
"Kids who took outside lessons keep 'em; they just poll who wants in."
Details in the small stuff.
Lessons, huh... I'd basically self-taught via Lee Ha-yeon's tips. Structured teaching sounded good.
Someone experienced evaluating me would help.
'Teacher'd nail theory too.'
Class theory raced too fast to catch up. Perfect timing.
"Heard pianist Han Yong-seong joined our grade this year. As a lesson teacher."
"...For real?"
"Yeah. Wonder who he'll take. Ha-yeon, you doing school lessons?"
"Nah, private at home."
I blinked wide-eyed in reply.
Pianist Han Yong-seong—I knew him. Not a top listener, but I'd caught his Korean recitals. Pretty famous.
"Dude plays piano insanely well."
"Obviously."
"Famous for recitals with his students... Taught at Korea National University of Arts too."
"That teacher went to Korea National University of Arts?"
To me, he stuck as more educator than performer.
Memorable interview? His teaching philosophy and musical values meshed with mine.
"Latest concert was... with who?"
Han Yong-seong, student, recital, Korea National University of Arts. Piecing keywords, I gasped sharply.
'...Myeong Woo-bin?'
Forgotten memory shards clicked like puzzle pieces.
Myeong Woo-bin. Right.
Pianist exploding around thirty. Long obscure days; he'd bitterly mentioned the grind.
'That's why he was vaguely familiar.'
Never seen him live. Too busy then.
'Myeong Woo-bin... bloomed late under Han Yong-seong at Korea National University of Arts, or so the story goes.'
Shocked but playing cool, I nodded, gathering fragments.
"Han Yong-seong's interview... that one. Ah, explains..."
Myeong Woo-bin now rivaled Baek Ji-ho and Lee Ha-yeon at Ye-rim.
Why blow up so late? Shouldn't he have debuted early?
His adult gap? Mystery to me. Lingering questions hung oddly.
"Thirty? Weird. Wonder why."
"Yo, Do-hyun."
"What."
Caught up in resurfaced memories, buoyant, Lee Seong-hyuk eyed me with a frown.
"How'd you know that?"
"Know what?"
"Search it—no Korea National University of Arts on his profile."
"Look harder."
"For real."
"I'm telling you."
I waved dismissively, but my arm froze mid-gesture.
'...Time till Korea National University of Arts? Still ahead?'
Right. I'm seventeen now.
Glancing around cautiously, the trio at the table stared with bizarre looks.
Kim Ju-hee even pitied me worriedly.
"Library that bad? Wanna piano? You're acting weird."
"Take a walk."
"No, it's not..."
"Or our sucky studying shocked you?"
"That did shock me, but not why."
"Something's off."
The trio, humiliated by Choi Je-hun, trudged with heavy steps.
Kim Seong-hyun—Class B, 98 on second eval. A hair from glory—gnashed his teeth.
"He got some special link with Choi Je-hun?"
"Nah, doubt it."
"Still... played damn well. Deserved the 100."
Friends conceded reluctantly, but Kim Seong-hyun fumed.
They hadn't tasted his agony—needing just three more points. If Kwon Do-hyun lost three!
"No, it's fishy. A-Class jump on placement? Sudden mastery? Why even bet?"
"Kinda makes sense. The bet itself's weird."
Whining more risked standing out awkwardly, but one last push? Naive hope.
Plus, jealousy-tinged resentment: without him, I'd be A-Class.
Pondering options, a girl dashed up from afar.
"Da-bin!"
"Su-ah, hey. Where to?"
Friend? As they walked on, Su-ah nabbed all three.
"Our YouTube drops today? Helped edit with seniors. Got time? Editing room!"
"Sure. Nothing else anyway."
Broadcasting Club. Kim Seong-hyun watched Ye-rim YouTube regularly—not for fun, but someday starring there.
"You all Piano Department? Friend in latest?"
"For real? Ji-ho?"
Editing room neared. Kim Seong-hyun fussed his hair, cleared throat.
Impress seniors—good first impression.
"Nah, Kwon Do-hyun. First I heard. Did Tchaikovsky for eval?"
"What?"
"Ah."
"Haha..."
"What's up?"
"N-nothing. Let's go."
Air froze; Kim Seong-hyun's brow twitched.
Door swung wide. Mood soured badly, but too far to bail.
"Su-ah, friends? Cool, was final-checking anyway."
"Yeah, senior. Guys, hurry!"
Senior with Lee Jin-seong nametag beckoned.
Kim Seong-hyun scowled, plopping before the big monitor. Friends looked sour too.
'...Jazz busking?'
Senior space-barred; video rolled.
Suddenly, Kwon Do-hyun stumbled onto a street busking stage.