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Episode 07
Thump.
Jung Do-hyun set his coffee cup down on the corner of his desk and, staring at the monitor, let out a short breath.
Was it because he’d been glued to numbers and reports for too long? His eyes were strained and his head throbbed.
He pressed his fingertips firmly into his brow, but the tension didn’t easily subside.
‘This headache. I need to get this sorted by tomorrow…’
His head felt like it was hitting a limit.
The calculations that needed to run coldly and precisely kept getting bogged down. He himself could feel that work had been dragging for a while now.
Leaning back in his chair, his gaze suddenly fell upon an object on the desk.
A black USB drive.
‘Come to think of it…’
An issue had suddenly cropped up at the overseas branch, and he’d been so swamped dealing with it right after returning to the company that he’d lost track of everything.
Because of that, he’d completely forgotten about the USB he’d put in his pocket to deliver to the professor’s office.
‘So I brought it along after all.’
Too busy to pay it any mind, he’d ended up bringing it all the way to his office.
He wouldn’t be going back to korea University, and he had no time to return it anyway.
He picked up the USB, about to toss it in the trash, but then paused.
“Hmm.”
After a brief hesitation, he placed the USB back on the desk.
He was taking a mental break anyway, so he had about three minutes to spare satisfying a trivial curiosity.
‘If I check the contents, I should be able to find the student ID and name, at least. Then it’d be better to pass that information on to the school.’
He turned on a secondary laptop that didn’t contain any particularly important data. After double-checking for potential security issues, he plugged in the USB.
A single folder appeared.
And inside, just one file.
File Name: Mercury_guide. mp 3
‘Composition department, huh.’
That was the only information he could glean. No name, age, student ID, or anything like that.
He had a feeling that even if he tried to return the USB, finding the owner would be next to impossible.
‘I wonder if the professors could identify the student just by hearing the song?’
Jung Do-hyun clicked on the file without much expectation.
After all, there was no way a student’s music would impress him.
-♩♪♬♪….
In an instant, the atmosphere changed.
‘The completeness is higher than I thought.’
The melody crafted by the strings was quite sophisticated. How should he describe it? It flowed like water. There was a certain delicate, frail feeling to it.
A humming voice was layered on top.
It was a common technique used when there were no proper lyrics. A clear, pure voice completed the mood of the piece.
Even though it was just humming, he could picture the song exactly.
Jung Do-hyun, with a serious expression, was now listening to the music intently. His eyes closed gently.
Piano and bass intertwined as if in conversation. The melody itself was simple, but the chord progression behind it was unfamiliar.
Moreover, the subtle syncopation made the piece even more mysterious.
The blend of snare and kick drums felt not forced, but perfectly placed.
True to its name, <Mercury>, the rhythm swayed peculiarly, just like the liquid metal itself.
“Ha.”
Jung Do-hyun couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped him.
It wasn’t a sneer, but a bitter one.
“It’s dark under the lamp, indeed. That’s exactly it.”
Jung Do-hyun realized it instantly. This was a product worth investing in.
A composer who could create a piece like this was, literally, a goose laying golden eggs, and Jung Do-hyun hadn’t even known of their existence until now.
He quickly scanned the file, but again, there were no clues to deduce the composer’s identity.
Only one thing remained: the music itself.
Jung Do-hyun slowly rose from his seat. He put the USB in his pocket and muttered as he closed the laptop.
“I need to find them.”
No matter what it took.
scratch.
My ear itched for no reason, so I rubbed it with my fingertip.
‘Someone’s talking about me.’
As I muttered inwardly, Lee Hyun-ji seized the opportunity and pressed on.
“Seol-ah! You’re not spacing out again, are you?”
“No, I’m listening.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Well, I did zone out for a second. But sitting through basic theory classes again was just boring.
Since that day I accompanied for the ‘Composition Department Transfer Study Group’ at Lee Hyun-ji’s request,
Once they found out I was also hoping to transfer, they gladly welcomed me as a study member.
We gathered early this morning, expecting to discuss what else to prepare, but…
‘All we’re doing is studying basic theory I already know.’
I was rapidly losing interest because of it.
“Seriously.”
Instead of letting it slide, Lee Hyun-ji crossed her arms and sighed.
“You learn harmony and basic theory for entrance exams, but piano and composition are different, you know? The written exam carries quite a bit of weight, you realize that?”
“Leave her alone.”
This time, Choi Dong-hyuk chimed in with a laugh. Grinning, he raised one eyebrow.
“If you get a perfect score on the practical, you could get a zero on the written and still pass, so what’s the big deal?”
“Brother!”
Despite Lee Hyun-ji’s scolding, Choi Dong-hyuk just shrugged.
“I’m serious though? You saw Seol-ah’s arrangement skills. The professors will be shouting ‘super pass’ right away! I guarantee it.”
At that, Lee Hyun-ji couldn’t refute it and just opened and closed her mouth silently.
Following him, Han So-yeon added her two cents.
“I agree~.”
“Even, you too…!”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to prepare at all.”
Han So-yeon added with a playful expression.
“Seol-ah, you do know the transfer practical exam isn’t just that arrangement test, right?”
“…It isn’t?”
What other test could the composition department have besides composition itself?
When I questioned back,Yuda Yeon clapped her hands and asked in an exaggerated tone.
“Oh my. Were you really unaware?”
“See? That’s why she’s so calm.”
I looked towards Lee Hyun-ji, tilting my head. Lee Hyun-ji let out a deep sigh and began to explain.
“First, the basics are sight-singing and dictation.”
Sight-singing is reading a score and singing without the aid of an instrument; dictation is the opposite, listening to music and transcribing it into notation.
It was the most fundamental course that any music student couldn’t afford not to know.
“The composition department is famous for requiring a very demanding level of sight-singing and dictation.”
I see. I nodded.
“Second is harmony. They give you an impromptu chord progression, and you have to write out the proper voice leading for it by hand.”
“And the time limit is tight, so it’s not easy.”
Yuda Yeon nodded vigorously in agreement.
“There’s a third thing too.”
Choi Dong-hyuk went one step further.
“Improvisation. The professor throws out a rhythm or a motif, and you have to immediately create a piece around 16 bars long. It’d probably be easy for you, though.”
“And finally, your own original composition.”
Lee Hyun-ji delivered the final blow.
“Unlike the composition kids who’ve been building up pieces since their first year, this is actually the hardest part if you want to transfer. No matter how good your arrangements are, if you don’t have your own original piece, you’ll fail for sure.”
Then she crossed her arms and stared at me as if issuing a warning.
“So if you don’t prepare properly, no matter how good your arrangements are, it won’t matter. You’ll lose points in the other areas.”
After hearing all the explanations, it became clear. The transfer exam required skills in a wide variety of areas.
‘Definitely.’
I muttered inwardly and slowly rose from my seat.
“So? Starting to feel the need for the study group a little… huh? What are you doing?”
As I began gathering my things, Lee Hyun-ji looked puzzled.
“I’m going home.”
“What? Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Why all of a sudden?”
I answered honestly.
“Because I don’t think I need the study group.”
For a moment, everyone’s eyes went wide. Then they each chimed in.
“Seol-ah. No matter how well you play piano and how good your arrangement sense is, you can’t do it with just that, you know?”
“Right. Preparing alone without a study group is incredibly hard.”
“Our school’s transfer exam is especially known for being difficult.”
But Choi Dong-hyuk was the only one who chuckled and muttered.
“Well, trying to stop her now seems useless. Look at her eyes. She’s already made up her mind.”
“Even so, saying she’ll prepare for the transfer without a study group…”
Han So-yeon held her forehead and shook her head.
“Don’t come crying if you fail the transfer. You know there are people who retake the transfer exam two, three times here, right?”
Even with that warning, I was unfazed. I replied calmly.
“It’s okay.”
Everyone looked at me as if I were absurd. I slung my bag over my back and gave a bow.
“Then I’ll be going now.”
As I turned around, I could hear muttering, loud enough for me to hear.
“What do we do? Is it okay to just let her go?”
“What if she fails and regrets it?”
Voices mixed with worry and subtle criticism followed, but I didn’t respond.
Because.
The moment I heard what the transfer exam entailed, I was certain.
‘I lack confidence.’
As I exited the practice room, I grinned.
‘Confidence that I’ll fail.’
