WCP 22

chapter 22

“The 1st Prize in the 21st Korea International Music Competition, Piano Division, goes to… student Song Minwoo, and student Lee Ji-hye. Congratulations.”

After a brief silence, Professor Choi Narae’s voice filled the stage of the awards ceremony.

With thunderous applause cascading around the hall, Song Minwoo stepped forward toward the stage, as if he had already expected this.

Lee Ji-hye, however, looked utterly stunned, as though such an outcome had never once crossed her mind.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and come.”
“Ah—no, wait a second. I thought I might have misheard…”
“You didn’t mishear. You heard right, so hurry up. People are waiting.”

Was it really something so shocking? Considering the performance she gave today, a shared first place was more than within reach.

As always, Ji-hye underestimated herself.

Minwoo waited for her to catch up, then went up to the stage side by side with her.

The moment they stepped out from backstage, they were greeted by dazzling lights and the sight of multiple cameras aimed at them from the audience.

Some were for live broadcasting, others set up beforehand for the press.

And waiting onstage with those cameras pointed at them was…

…a familiar middle-aged man.

The very same elder Minwoo had briefly encountered during a busking performance.

He had never even learned the man’s name, nor met him again after that day. To run into him here of all places left Minwoo momentarily bewildered.

‘Well, I figured we’d cross paths again someday…’

But on the awards stage? That he hadn’t imagined.

Unlike the man’s street-side appearance that day, now he wore a sharp suit. And with a trophy in hand, it was clear he wasn’t just some contest official, but someone belonging at least to the organizers.

“Wow, no way… Pianist Lee Jung-hoon is here too.”

Ji-hye, standing beside Minwoo, whispered in awe.

Lee Jung-hoon—without question, the foremost figure in Korean classical piano.

Anyone even slightly interested in piano knew that name. Minwoo let out a wry laugh.

‘No wonder he seemed extraordinary.’

So it was that Lee Jung-hoon. He should have realized when the man, unprompted, had specifically mentioned the Korea International Music Competition.

“Congratulations, student Song Minwoo, and student Lee Ji-hye.”

Professor Lee Jung-hoon handed them the winner’s trophy.

Two winners, but only one trophy.

After a moment’s hesitation and exchanged glances, Minwoo and Ji-hye ended up holding it together, side by side.

It was heavier than expected—so heavy it could almost be used as a blunt weapon. Why make a competition trophy so heavy? Most would never complain if it were just hollow cheap metal.

Trophies had always been symbols of inefficiency.

Pondering that, Minwoo turned his ear to Professor Lee’s congratulatory words.

“First of all, it is an honor… an honor—yes, an honor—to have served as a judge for this competition.”

His slip of the tongue showed the words hadn’t been prewritten. Correcting himself quickly, he continued, while Minwoo stifled the laugh threatening to escape.

“In the finals of this 22nd Korea International Music Competition, the performances of Song Minwoo and Lee Ji-hye were like milestones for Korean classical music. After much deliberation, we judges concluded that neither could be ranked above the other, and thus we have awarded them joint 1st place. Please, give them a round of heartfelt applause for their passionate performances.”

…22nd? Wasn’t it the 21st?

Professor Choi Narae’s sharp look confirmed it was indeed the 21st.

As another wave of applause crashed over him, Minwoo once again barely managed to suppress his laughter.

Never had he attended such a lighthearted, loose awards ceremony.

In his past life, he’d received many honors, but always on solemn stages filled with nobility. Such a casual, almost sloppy atmosphere was something he’d never imagined.

‘Still… this isn’t bad.’

So what if it was clumsy? If he could simply savor the joy of the moment without pressure, that alone was enough.

It was his very first awards ceremony as Song Minwoo.

The first step in a journey ahead, and a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.

So thought Frédéric Chopin, smiling quietly.

For a moment that would never come again.

It felt like being young again.

Kang Seo-jun sat in the darkened audience, gazing at the bright stage and its stars.

“Joint 1st place… brings back memories.”

Seeing Minwoo and Ji-hye, old recollections stirred.

The days of fierce rivalry with Lee Jung-hoon, forever competing neck-and-neck for first and second place, baring fangs at the mere sight of each other’s faces. Those days, in hindsight, had been joyous.

Reflecting, Seo-jun turned his head toward the empty seat beside him.

‘Yoon must need some time alone.’

A child who had always been arrogant, treating success as his birthright. Now, with his pride shattered in an instant, no comfort could possibly reach him. Seo-jun pictured his grandson hiding somewhere, nursing his wounds.

“Why, isn’t this Mr. Kang? Long time no see.”

A man sat down in the empty seat and greeted him.

“And you are…?”
“Professor Park Joong-hyun, Korea National University of Arts. I wonder if you remember me.”

Ah, one of the judges from the competition Yoon had entered last year.

‘Yes, the one who praised Yoon excessively, to the point of discomfort.’

Seo-jun remembered well how the man had insisted on inviting them to dinner.

“You must be very disappointed, with your grandson eliminated.”
“Not especially. He’s just experiencing something inevitable, only sooner rather than later.”

Though regretful, Seo-jun spoke sincerely.

Professor Park, seemingly dissatisfied with such composure, quickly changed topics.

“By the way, Zimmermann is here too. I heard from staff he flew in for a concert next month.”

Zimmermann? That was a surprise.

Hans Zimmermann—the name never absent when listing the world’s greatest pianists. He almost never appeared at public events outside of his own concerts. For him to attend here was truly unusual.

“Yet look at this mess of a competition. If anything, we’ve only shown Zimmermann how far Korean piano has fallen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious? An unproven boy like this Song Minwoo suddenly appears, stirring things up, and ends up joint 1st place. Of course Zimmermann would think poorly of it.”

His voice carried unnecessary bitterness.

It was clear: Park’s dissatisfaction wasn’t with Minwoo, but with Lee Jung-hoon.

‘So the rumors were true—factions have split the piano department at Korea National University of Arts.’

One side was Professor Lee Jung-hoon and his disciples. The other, Professor Kim Jung-tae’s faction, opposing him.

Park was clearly aligned with Kim. Otherwise, why corner Seo-jun with criticism of Lee?

Seo-jun, who knew he alone held equal stature to Lee in Korea, smiled faintly.

“Professor Park.”
“Yes, Mr. Kang?”
“At an awards ceremony, the proper thing is to clap.”
“…Excuse me?”

Park’s face darkened with shock, unprepared for such a rebuke.

“You heard perfectly well. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“I—I was only…”
“Exactly. ‘Only’ saying things. And I’ll ‘only’ dismiss them.”

He had no desire to be dragged into that mire again. His early retirement had been precisely to leave such squabbles behind.

“If you understand, kindly vacate my grandson’s seat.”

At Seo-jun’s firm words, Park rose, face clouded.

‘Finally, some peace.’

A true pianist must devote everything to the piano. Those who rely instead on petty politicking will never lead the music world forward. That belief had guided Seo-jun all his life.

Still, one thing Park had said was true:

The arrival of Song Minwoo.

A comet-like pianist who startled the establishment, captivating every attendee in a single moment.

Admiration, hostility, curiosity, jealousy—all those gazes weighed on the boy.

‘The question is… can he endure them?’

Once you step onto the stage of classical music, there’s no escaping the spotlight.

And so, Seo-jun simply applauded. Hoping the boy who had become the wall his grandson crashed against would not face too cruel a future. Hoping today’s experience would become fertile soil for his grandson’s growth.

Then the old pianist quietly departed, leaving behind the boy now trapped in a circle of reporters.

Journalists had always been relentless.

Even an hour after the ceremony ended, Minwoo was exhausted from the pack that swarmed him. Finally, he slumped onto a bench, face pale, trying to catch his breath.

‘Ji-hye’s still not back?’

Scanning the hallways for her, he saw only one unfamiliar foreigner.

But… was that man staring at him?

Meeting the stranger’s gaze, Minwoo quickly looked away. If it was another reporter, he needed to escape immediately.

But just then, a familiar voice stopped him.

“Well, well—if it isn’t today’s star, sitting right here.”

It was Professor Lee Jung-hoon.

The foreigner, seeing him approach Minwoo, turned away—apparently conceding his chance. For a reporter, that was surprisingly quick to give up, but Minwoo didn’t care. As long as he avoided another interview.

“Star? There’s actually one more, you know.”
“Ah, right. I should say ‘stars.’”

Lee Jung-hoon sat down beside him naturally, playing along.

“To think you’d play La Campanella like that… you never fail to surprise me.”
“Thank you for the praise.”

Though truthfully, Minwoo thought, you’re the surprising one, sir.

Who would have guessed the elder he’d met busking was Korea’s top pianist?

“So, what’s next? Having won Korea’s biggest competition, are you heading onto the international stage?”
“No. College entrance exams come first.”

He had only fastened the first button. The road to his true goal was still long. For now, entrance exams mattered most.

“True, that’s coming soon. Seems you won’t have much chance to spend your prize money, then.”
“That’s fine. It wouldn’t be enough to buy a piano anyway.”
“Not enough? Five million won should be plenty.”

“…What? Excuse me?”

Minwoo’s eyes widened.

“Five million won?”
“Didn’t you check? It was written in big letters on the website.”
“Unbelievable…”

He had known there was prize money, but never checked the amount.

‘Five million… that’s enough to get a decent piano, if I bargain well.’

Meaning he could finally practice at home after school into the evening.

“Kh… khhhk…”
“Eh? What’s wrong, Minwoo? Is five million too little?”
“Pfft—ahahahahaha!”
“Good heavens!”

Minwoo burst out in raucous laughter, startling Lee Jung-hoon.

But Minwoo didn’t care. He just kept laughing, exams momentarily forgotten.