Chapter 6
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Outsider (1)
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Under the teachers' guidance, we moved from the auditorium to the classrooms in the main building.
For the next year, I was a student in 1st Year Class 8. The classroom looked pretty unfamiliar after the class assignments were finalized.
"They're splitting us up again here. Bet you didn't know that."
"Again?"
Lee Seong-hyuk and I were sitting side by side at the back by the window, chatting while waiting for the homeroom announcement.
Whether you could call it chatting was debatable—it looked more like we were just attending class.
"They say they'll divide us by skill level for practical lessons. Into A, B, and C classes."
"Piano majors have separate classes?"
"Yeah."
In short, the top players grouped together, the slightly lower ones together.
Aside from general subjects, German, and sight-singing and ear-training, all classes were run that way.
I'd experienced similar setups at regular high schools, so it wasn't entirely new, but it still made me tense for some reason.
Back then, it was based on grades. Here, it'll be piano skill.
The subgroups lasted one semester. Falling into B or C would mean missing out on opportunities that'd cost a fortune in equivalent value.
Sharing a class with geniuses like Baek Ji-ho and Lee Ha-yeon was an experience worth more than money—at least to me.
So, I had to make it into A Class somehow...
"Hmm."
No answers in sight.
I mulled it over for a bit before giving up.
There was no way I'd rank anywhere if they lined us up by piano skill.
A sigh slipped out unwittingly.
"They'll probably test us separately for subgroups, right?"
"I heard it's just ear-training."
Ear-training? If that's the only criterion, that changes things. After all, wasn't I the weirdo who listened to music non-stop while eating before regressing?
But the catch was, ear-training alone couldn't properly judge piano skill.
The Ye-rim faculty wouldn't be clueless about that. So why stick to ear-training?
"How do you know all this? You're not even from Ye-won."
"I've got my ways."
Lee Seong-hyuk shrugged with a sly grin. I could picture him scribbling notes while listening to performances, face lit up.
This guy was pretty eccentric too.
"Ye-ri! You're in Class 8 too? What are the odds—we must be fated!"
"How many years in a row now? It's crazy."
"Three years!"
I rested my chin on my hand, idly scanning the classroom vibe.
Music majors had the most piano students, as expected. Then violins and other major instruments, down to rarer ones—a real mix.
"No sign of Baek Ji-ho... Different class, huh."
"Music department uses six classes, though."
"Still disappointing."
Every glance revealed mostly unfamiliar faces. I'd never dived deep into Korean performers, so maybe that was why.
Even so, spotting a familiar face or name among non-piano majors felt oddly welcoming.
Should I get autographs in advance? I hyped myself up, then cooled off, repeating the cycle alone.
"Hey, Kim Ji-hyun. You in our class?"
"Four years straight? This is getting old."
"Heard? Ms. Min-ji's joining Ye-rim this year."
"Yeah, but she's teaching second-years, right? I ran into her over break..."
Girls jumping around hand-in-hand, boys huddled in corners... The room was already full of cliques.
They mostly gossiped about Ye-won Arts Middle School, flaunting their little world.
It's not flaunting—they probably think it's normal.
Their casual daily chit-chat felt utterly foreign and fresh to me.
Some people had to strive endlessly just to grasp that level of familiarity—even to the point of ennui.
A twinge of alienation hit me, so I whistled softly under my breath.
"Hey, Do-hyun."
"My one and only regular middle school buddy, Seong-hyuk."
"...What the hell."
At least I had this guy. He seemed well-informed on Ye-rim gossip too—might as well get close.
"Why'd you call?"
"Look over there—Lee Ha-yeon's in our class too."
Lee Seong-hyuk pressed his shoulder against mine, pointing toward the front door area.
The girl with a cool yet somewhat dazed look, Lee Ha-yeon, was settling into her seat and organizing her bag.
Other students stole glances and whispered, but none approached.
"Yu-jin, what was that earlier? I thought you'd lost it. I know you're a bit crazy, but still."
"Just."
My eyes flicked past to Seol Yu-jin right by the back door.
She's no big deal, though...
I shifted my gaze back to Lee Ha-yeon and quickly bowed my head.
Staring longer might make me blurt out an autograph request. Asking out of the blue? Perfect way to get labeled a psycho.
"Okay, everyone! Take your seats, please?"
Just then, the front door swung open, revealing a neatly dressed woman.
Flowing blouse, H-line skirt, and slippers with absurdly high heels that clashed with the outfit.
Anyone could tell she was a teacher.
"Everyone looks so upbeat! I'm Lee So-eun, your 1st Year Class 8 homeroom teacher. Nice to meet you all!"
Her voice was clear and bright.
Liking her already, questions poured in from the students.
She wrote her name on the board and introduced herself as a Ye-won and Ye-rim alum.
"Um, Teacher."
A tentative call came as the front door creaked open again. The teacher, mid-sentence, turned her head.
A girl peeked through the gap, lips fumbling nervously under the stares.
"Ha... Mr. Choi Je-hun, right?"
The teacher's reaction was surprisingly calm. She sighed and pinched her brow, but it seemed like she'd anticipated this.
"Yes, he says all Piano Department students to Major Class 1..."
Piano Department, Major Class 1?
Piano majors' heads swiveled like meerkats.
"Tell him we'll send them right over. Thanks."
The girl bowed and retreated. The teacher smoothed her furrowed expression.
"Sorry for frowning on our first meeting. Piano majors, hands up?"
Arms shot up here and there, including mine and Lee Seong-hyuk's.
Counting with her fingers, the teacher gave a wry smile.
"Those with hands up, head to Major Class 1. Fifth floor, left after the 501 practice room."
Piano students exchanged glances, fidgeting without moving.
Made sense—no one wanted to stand first in this situation.
"Important announcements at end of homeroom, so hurry back!"
A light tap on the podium, and seats finally emptied gradually.
I shrugged and followed the tail of the exiting line.
"What's this sudden thing?"
"No idea."
The hallway was dead quiet.
March sunlight poured through wide windows, melting the lingering chill.
Ahead by the central stairs, earlier starters were visible. One stood out: Baek Ji-ho, slowly tapping his cane toward the elevator.
"Do-hyun, remember what I said earlier? Myeong Woo-bin and Seol Yu-jin..."
As Lee Seong-hyuk chatted while we climbed, it happened.
"...?"
Baek Ji-ho, walking slowly, turned his head toward me. Our eyes met in mid-air.
I mouthed "Why?" without speaking.
"Who's that? Friend of yours, Ji-ho?"
"..."
But Baek Ji-ho just kept walking, ignoring his friend's question.
Nothing new there.
Going to the same studio was over ten years ago now. Plenty of time to fade from memory.
"Wait, you know Baek Ji-ho?"
Turning back, Lee Seong-hyuk fixed me with intense eyes.
Felt like he'd caught a scoop—brushed it off. Too much like a tabloid reporter.
"Nah, just sorta."
"What? Tell me."
"C'mon, hurry. We're late."
"Same at orientation..."
Major Class 1 was surprisingly simple inside.
A rectangular table and chairs for four side-by-side, a grand piano by the podium.
That was it.
Reminded me of lecture halls for liberal arts classes.
"Everyone here?"
As piano majors clustered and murmured, a sharp-featured man entered.
Deep, booming voice; moderately curly long hair; dark stubble; horn-rimmed glasses perched casually.
Baggy training suit stood out too.
...Is he really a teacher?
Were teachers allowed such outfits back then? Not sure if I was just uptight.
"Choi Je-hun. Your teacher for 1st Year Piano Department A Class."
He dropped a binder on the podium like it was someone else's story.
Choi Je-hun—not someone who stuck in my memory.
"Straight to it: subgroup test now. No ear-training. Play whatever you're confident in. No restrictions."
"Already?"
"Ah..."
The room buzzed with shock.
Ear-training, my ass—it was all bullshit?
I shot Lee Seong-hyuk a glare. He fiddled with a hot pack, avoiding my eyes.
...Screwed.
Confident piece? I had none.
Since regressing, I'd barely touched piano—maybe a few days. Even then, just one-offs on various pieces.
Pick a confident one now?
"What now."
"What're you playing? I'll do my audition piece."
Audition piece—good idea. I racked my brain.
Damn, quit after three seconds. I didn't even remember my audition piece.
How the hell did I get into Ye-rim...?
Dad would just say, "Came up to Seoul, practiced a few months, got the acceptance."
Pure fantasy.
"Calling randomly. Name called, come up and play."
Choi Je-hun leaned crookedly on the podium, flipping through what looked like student records.
"Dragging us mid-homeroom for this...?"
"Better to start quick, though?"
"How many spots in A?"
"Less than half of us."
"Skip regular school kids... From Ye-won, it's two-thirds odds."
Grumbles spread.
Why skip regular schoolers? Swallowed it—couldn't say it aloud.
"Seol Yu-jin, up front."
First up: Seol Yu-jin.
She tossed her tucked-in shirt collar hair defiantly and sauntered past like a cat.
"Ready? Play."
Her hands slammed the keys right away. Liszt's Mazeppa—the surprise piece from the stage earlier.
Didn't peg her for Liszt. Thought she liked French stuff like Debussy, Ravel.
Still, solid touch and tempo control.
The Seol Yu-jin I remembered lacked any confidence... Must've changed a lot as an adult.
"Stop. A Class."
No sooner had I thought that than he declared after mere bars.
What? Why not stop her.
But she ignored the halt and kept playing.
"Hey, stop."
He snapped his fingers; she finally quit, rising casually—as if nothing happened, like this morning.
...Definitely a weird one.
Some noise, but no objections to her A Class. Her skill was top-tier, even to me.
"Next, Lee Jung-won. Up."
A guy from later in line.
The tests continued.
"Stop, A Class."
"Stop, B Class."
...
His judgments were consistent. Never over a minute, but not superficial either.
Matched my impressions, at least.
"Next, Kwon Do-hyun."
My turn. I stood slowly, heading to the podium.
Heart pounding suddenly. More tense than I thought.
"Who's that?"
"Dunno."
"New face."
"Ji-ho and Ha-yeon not called yet?"
"Pad C Class, please...!"
All audible.
Too embarrassing to glare back; nothing to gain from kids. Ignore and move on.
Just play well—that's it.
"Hey."
Plopped on the bench; teacher called me.
"Yes?"
"What piece?"
"...Beethoven Piano Sonata No.24, first movement."
No special reason.
Too low-level for flashy etudes like Yu-jin's; no big emotional epics in my rep.
Something I'd played recently, familiar to my ears. Considered William Tell or Sans Saens, but Beethoven felt safest.
Lively second movement aside, moderate tempo, sprightly—mistakes wouldn't scream.
"No.24?"
"Yes."
"Go."
He gestured lightly after repeating. Why only ask me?
Shook off distractions, loosened fingers and wrists.
A or C, playing's playing. Blast it and go.
Being back to play freely was a once-in-a-lifetime luck.
B or C? One semester of hard practice, I'd hit A. Blind confidence has its place.
Hands on keys, mind clear.
Beethoven Piano Sonata No.24, first movement: Adagio cantabile.
Slowly, song-like.
Weighty intro, theme fragments building variation—that's the core.
Allegro ma non troppo.
Fast-ish, but not too. Pacing control key.
Pianists botching it tired my ears—face scrunched memories lingered.
I'd listened to tons of classical. A lot.
Anti-examples from mismatches; transplant touches from favorites into my hands.
Build my own music from there.
Easier said... But gotta try.
Faint smile, pressed keys.
Warm, loving theme unfolds. Melody floats soft as a grassy stroll—body lightened unwittingly.
Ah, good.
Known as "Therese"—dedicated to Beethoven's friend Therese.
I let love's noble lyrics flow lightly.
Matches my music vibe. Saying "love" straight gives chills, but music's absence reveals my passion's depth.
Whisper it sincere, but not overly so.
...I'm messing up bad.
Sheet music blurred past initial phrases.
Forced memorized melody to fingers, repeating.
Creeping slips inevitable; notes unstable. No sheet on hard parts—expected.
Didn't matter.
Whatever.
Play as told.
My unprepared fault. Pianists speak through playing. Accept results humbly.
Nearing end; teacher silent.
Means keep going?
Bonus time—fine by me.
Post-variation, tension rises—but don't overpour.
Step back, observe emotions; resolve slowly.
Swelled feelings subside as if never; calm intro returns.
Spread springy, fluffy sensations to close.
"Haa..."
Deep breath, hands off. Not perfect replay—slight regret.
Still refreshing. Did my best on short notice.
Turned; teacher crossed legs same as before, staring intently.
Heavy gaze not my imagination.
"Kwon Do-hyun... Kwon Do-hyun, right."
"Yes."
Short scoff; he said,
"Play another."
"...Pardon?"
What the hell?