Chapter 55
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Ironic Melody (3)
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[Da-eun Sunbae ─ You've been fooling me so well until now]
A weird message came in the morning.
And the follow-up was even more ridiculous.
[Da-eun Sunbae ─ But I still love our junior...]
This has to be spam.
The name doesn't look like it, but there are tons of impersonators these days.
Should I just block it?
[Jin-seong Sunbae ─ Sorry, Do-hyun-ah... I couldn't keep your secret till the end]
[Jin-seong Sunbae ─ My life was in danger...]
Messages from Jin-seong Sunbae kept pouring in one after another.
Are these people conspiring or something?
[Jin-seong Sunbae ─ But you'll come out with me again next time, right??]
[Jin-seong Sunbae ─ You're the treasure of our Broadcasting Club... I love you, Do-hyun-ah!!]
I ended up getting two love letters by accident.
One from a sly sunbae whose true intentions are unclear, and the other from a guy.
I turned off my phone screen without replying. Felt kinda tainted somehow.
"They're interviewing Baek Ji-ho today. Some newspaper."
I was sitting there dazed when an interesting topic popped up nearby.
Baek Ji-ho at 17 getting interviewed? That's front-page material for sure.
Naturally, I leaned toward the voices.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
But the conversation ended there. Short and to the point, super dry.
I stared blankly at the guys who'd brought it up.
'...Say something more, quick.'
Shouldn't this be the moment for them to freak out, gush about how amazing he is, how it's so like Baek Ji-ho, spilling all sorts of trivia?
"Hey, what's with you?"
"Did we say something weird?"
"Dunno."
They looked at me like I was the weird one, tilting their heads.
I cautiously asked them.
"Aren't you guys curious? About a newspaper interviewing him."
Only then did they go "Ahh" and respond with overly enthusiastic kindness.
"We saw it a lot at Ye-won. Reporters came by often."
"Lee Ha-yeon did interviews sometimes too, right?"
"Think so."
Point is, it was so routine for them that they were completely numb to any surprise or awe.
Isn't this exactly that situation I mentioned at the start of the semester, where you have to work endlessly just to grasp 'familiarity'?
But right now, I was more curious about what Baek Ji-ho said in the interview than feeling wronged. Even I don't know every childhood interview of his.
Maybe dig up old newspapers and scrapbook them. Could sell for a fortune later.
'Come to think of it, is Baek Ji-ho participating in the recital?'
Lee Ha-yeon might skip it, but Baek Ji-ho doesn't seem like the type to easily refuse the sunbaes' invitations. He might even jump at it like me, just for the fun. He showed up for the music aptitude test filming at the entrance ceremony without hesitation.
Whenever I heard Baek Ji-ho play, he always struck me as someone purely enjoying the music.
"Hey, encyclopedia."
"I think Wikipedia suits me better. Why?"
Lee Seong-hyuk smirked, putting down his pen and looking at me.
"No famous sunbaes in the 2nd-year Piano Department?"
"2nd year, hmm..."
If our grade is exceptionally talented compared to others, it wouldn't be weird for Baek Ji-ho to get collab offers. Even if there are famous sunbaes, would they outshine him?
"Doesn't seem like it. Heard a few 3rd years, but forgot."
So he might face off with Baek Ji-ho at the recital.
Since the exam goal is key, the composition quality matters more than performance anyway.
"Odds of Baek Ji-ho entering?"
"Calculating..."
He dramatically pressed his index fingers to his temples, acting it out.
Then he burst into a sneer and straightened up.
"How would I know?"
"Thought you would. No calculator on Wikipedia?"
"What, nervous? Even if he does, just think of it as a pre-exam skirmish."
"Nah, not exactly. Just curious."
I spat out the words bluntly, and Lee Seong-hyuk sidled up with a sly tone.
"Whoever from our grade enters, why worry? It's a composition exam anyway."
"As long as no mistakes, it'll be fine. But suddenly wondering—what are the judging criteria for comp exams? Just teacher judgment?"
"That's the big one, but they check how well you apply school lessons from the score. Peer reviews factor in too."
So basically, better song gets better score. 'How well you apply school lessons' is meaningless—they all learned it in middle school, breezing through theory class.
"Performance has technical stuff to judge. Scoring a composition is controversial."
"Two ways around it."
Like he'd been waiting for my grumble, Lee Seong-hyuk stuck up two fingers.
"First, rank everything against the absolute best song as full marks—no debate."
"Not buying it."
"Second, recital includes explaining your work. How well the score matches your explanation."
"That makes sense. Match to interpretation and quality don't always align, though."
"Yeah, they mix it all in."
The guy kept smiling, tapping his notebook with his pen.
"It's an exam, gotta rank. Teachers' job is judging as fairly as possible so we accept it."
"Making an answer for a no-answer problem, hence the mess."
"Think music has no answers?"
"Yeah."
"I came to Ye-rim Arts High to find them."
Lee Seong-hyuk shrugged.
"That's why I do music."
Music's answers.
Too deep to dismiss as 'taste difference.'
Saying 'your taste is right, mine too' splits us, no consensus.
Isn't that just avoidance? Lifelong parallel lines.
At least something close to an answer, a goal, should exist.
'But it's funny I'm thinking this.'
Head says yes, but I've listened to classical for over 20 years without changing. Good is good—my ear couldn't pick one 'right' album from countless ones if beaten.
If someone says 'Brahms piano sonatas are best by Lee Ha-yeon,' I'd counter 'Brahms sonatas influenced by Beethoven symphonies, so try a Beethoven specialist's recording.'
Not contrarian—just try this, that too. Nicely put, broad appreciator; harshly, indecisive.
But that trait made me the performer I am. No rigid preferences, easy to accept anything. Pick strengths from everywhere.
Decide 'this recording best, that interpretation right,' and it feels true. Assign meaning, senses drown in it.
I'm a music enjoyer, not info collector. Good sound is good, whoever plays. Essence is the sound.
"So, found the answer?"
"Kinda."
Just humoring him, but this answer? Guy who entered Ye-rim to find it claims he has—in less than a semester?
"What is it? Tell me."
"No way."
Lee Seong-hyuk giggled, grabbing his pen again. I glared, annoyed. He fired back.
"You solve problems alone. Never peek at solutions, even on deathbed."
"Revenge over this?"
"That's me."
The orange sunset pierced brightly into the principal's office.
Baek Ji-ho, sitting at the center table, slightly frowned, and the principal quickly adjusted the blinds.
"Ah, continue. So, Ji-ho, when practice doesn't go as planned or you're stressed, how do you relieve it?"
The man opposite Baek Ji-ho, tapping away on his laptop, was the reporter.
From a mid-sized daily, covering culture/music section.
"I mostly listen lying down. Not pro pianists."
"Recordings—meaning you review and reflect on your own playing?"
"No, I get full recordings of practical lessons. Listen to friends' playing there."
The paper contacted the school for the interview, so the chairman and principal were present.
"Last question. Any musical creed you'd share?"
"I..."
Baek Ji-ho, lightly stroking his cane handle with his right hand, spoke.
"I make music desperately."
"Desperately... Yes, go on."
"Music has answers. I believe that, and I'm chasing them."
"Music has answers. Got it. So much more to ask, but time's up."
The reporter packed up, bowing busily.
The outsider left first. Baek Ji-ho slowly rose with his cane.
"I'll head out."
"Sure. Busy practicing—thanks. We expect big things from you."
The sharp-bobbed chairman patted his shoulder with a warm smile.
After two bows, Baek Ji-ho exited.
Corridor echoed faintly with club kids' chatter. Baek Ji-ho glanced out windows, walking lightly. Normally a friend would assist, but he was meeting someone today.
After a long walk, he left the main building into the campus. Already a bit winded. Checking his phone briefly, Baek Ji-ho knew he wouldn't wait long.
"Ji-ho!"
Far off, a woman in neat suit waved, running over. Her face resembled his—endearing smile anyone would like.
"Whoa! Hugging you after so long."
"Let go. Someone'll see."
"So? What's wrong with that?"
Her eye smile lingered till he showed dislike. After a decent hug, she stepped back. They started walking together.
"Interview go well?"
"Routine."
"No weird questions? Should've been there, but traffic. Sorry."
"Better than usual trash questions."
"Good."
Baek Ji-ho gave a self-mocking chuckle. His sister, Baek Ji-yoon, watched with a wry smile.
"Office is far—how tomorrow?"
"Took leave. See you, visit home—nice."
Baek Ji-yoon chattered about company tales. Baek Ji-ho responded briefly but warmly, as always.
"Phew, summer coming? Sweated running to you earlier."
"Careful not to trip. Heels."
Baek Ji-ho voiced worry sharply.
"Yeah! Gotta watch it."
Baek Ji-yoon replied softly, then turned with a wistful smile.
"Ji-ho, Baek Ji-ho."
"Yeah."
"Wish our Ji-ho was... a bit less grown-up. Sister's wish?"
Baek Ji-ho answered with a gentle smile.
"Text when you see Mom at home."
"Sure."
Clack, clack—the cane slowed.
Baek Ji-ho stopped fully, head high. Sunset sky ready to turn black.
He exhaled low, smiling casually—his everyday one.
"When will Mom hear my playing?"
Baek Ji-yoon laughed exaggeratedly to dodge the mood.
She ruffled his hair roughly, teasing.
"That's what I don't wanna hear, sis-wise."
Still, after so long with sis, Baek Ji-ho couldn't shake the heaviness.
Didn't know Composition had its own practice room. Special treatment? Lee Seong-hyuk said there's computers inside.
[Teacher Han Yong-seong: Explained about you roughly, so do your best.]
I pocketed my phone, staring at the door.
'Park Gyu-ri sunbae inside, huh.'
I've befriended a few sunbaes since enrolling, but new ones are still tricky.
Wondering what to say first—door burst open.
"Here? Come in—why stand there?"
Door open, voice clear, but no one visible.
Looked down—tiny girl with hands on hips.
'...Her Park Gyu-ri?'
Small. Perfect example of 'little person.'
Surprising, but not why I froze.
'Music director Park Gyu-ri.'
That familiar line flashed.
Composer and director extraordinaire, mostly indie films. Why know her? News.
'Venice or Cannes—indie film first in sound category, huge fuss.'
Fleeting info, so name didn't ring immediate bell—but who forgets this tiny frame?
Saw her brief interview: 'So cute, yet explosive music.'
"Not coming?"
Gruff question. Up close, she was cutely made from birth.
"Sunbae."
"What."
"You're so small."
She chewed my words, head tilting, then scoffed.
"Crazy?"
That was my first meeting with Park Gyu-ri.