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chapter 8
Caught off guard by the unexpected suggestion, Song Min-woo stared blankly at Lee Ji-hye.
“But… is that really okay? I didn’t record that myself.”
“Why not just tell the person who posted it that it’s you and submit it?”
Submitting a video with 3 million views as the competition piece was actually a great idea. Above all, it would save time, which was appealing.
However, there was one issue with submitting the video as it was.
“But the audio quality… it’s a bit off.”
It was obvious that the video had been recorded roughly on a smartphone rather than with professional equipment, so the sound quality had noticeably degraded.
Additionally, because it was recorded outdoors, there was significant background noise between the notes.
Even without the noise, the audio quality was already degraded, and combined with the environmental sounds, it made the music sound messy.
“Is there any way to remove the noise? It’s a bit messy and distracting.”
“Messy? This isn’t bad at all, is it?”
“Not at all. Listen carefully—some notes get blurred, making it sound like there are misplays everywhere.”
Apparently, Lee Ji-hye couldn’t hear it well. Watching her bring the phone close to her ear and crank up the volume to check, Song Min-woo sighed softly and spoke.
“There’s no way around it. If there’s no fix, I’ll just have to play the submission piece myself.”
“Well, it’s your choice. I won’t stop you if you really want to do that.”
After all, the piece was being submitted to a professional. It would be best to prepare the submission as perfectly as possible to account for any unforeseen circumstances.
“Anyway… I need to decide on a new submission piece. What should I play?”
“Why not just play a ballad again?”
“I’d like to, but there’s a problem.”
Sighing, Song Min-woo sat at the piano for a moment and began playing the coda of Ballad No. 1.
[~~~~]
From the start, dissonance caused by misplayed notes echoed through the music room. It was far from the perfect performance shown in the video.
“As you can see, it doesn’t work as well when I try to play it again. I guess I was just lucky yesterday.”
In retrospect, yesterday’s performance had been nothing short of a miracle.
Even with a body that wasn’t fully adapted yet, he had been lucky enough to deliver a performance comparable to his skills in his previous life.
‘I must have been unconsciously moved by the audience who came to watch my performance.’
Ballads played with emotion aren’t easy to control, especially when the emotion has to be poured into a piece meant for a competition submission. Lack of technical skill only makes it harder.
‘If I choose a piece that is technically easy and that I can play perfectly in my current state…’
There was only one piece that fit that description.
“Nocturne, huh.”
“Nocturne??”
A quintessential genre in classical music, Nocturnes are known for their lyrical and tranquil atmosphere, living up to their name, which means “night.”
“Lyrical and tranquil” also implies that the overall technical difficulty is low. Nocturnes generally avoid flashy passages that would disrupt the mood, so they are not overly difficult technically.
What is required to perform a Nocturne perfectly is not complex technique, but emotional interpretation.
In other words, given his lack of technical skills but full emotional expression, Frederic Chopin in his current state could play this piece almost perfectly.
Of course, Lee Ji-hye, unaware of this, only gave him a puzzled look.
“Why not think of something else? An etude or something like that would be better.”
It was a natural response. Typically, competitors select etudes as submission pieces because they are technically challenging, and recordings made on smartphones rarely convey emotional nuance. Technical difficulty, however, is not lost on such recordings.
Unfortunately, with his current condition, Min-woo couldn’t perfectly play most etudes. Even the piece he had performed during busking, [Heukgeon], was imperfect. Subtle errors were hidden by the slightly out-of-tune piano, but they were still there.
“Still, Nocturnes… they’re a bit too easy, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong with a Nocturne? If played well, they sound beautiful.”
“But… Nocturnes are Nocturnes. Anyone who’s been playing piano for a year or two can play them.”
Lee Ji-hye was underestimating the Nocturne. Her comment wasn’t entirely wrong—Nocturnes are relatively easy to play.
However, there’s a huge difference between just playing the notes and truly performing them.
As if to prove that, Song Min-woo quietly sat at the piano and pressed the keys.
A calm melody in E-flat minor flowed across the strings.
Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in E-flat major (one of Chopin’s most famous and popular Nocturnes).
For 21st-century listeners, this is perhaps the most widely recognized Nocturne.
When Chopin composed this in the early 1830s, he had left his homeland of Poland for Vienna, unaware that he would never set foot there again. During his first few months abroad, he suffered from severe homesickness, which this Nocturne was meant to alleviate.
Its melody evokes the peaceful night sky of his homeland, even when viewed from a foreign land. Although it might seem melancholic, the true emotion is happiness—a simple, quiet joy in observing the beauty of nature.
Soft legato passages, combined with occasional poco changes in tempo and dynamics, created a subtle ebb and flow. Nature’s sounds—the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind—were present but not intrusive.
From Song Min-woo’s fingertips, the stillness and unpredictability of night spread throughout the music room, dreamlike, like memories fading as one drifts to sleep.
pp (pianissimo, very softly)
As if lulling everyone into a peaceful dream, Min-woo lifted his hands from the keys to finish.
‘This is about the only piece I can play fairly well in my current state.’
Though he would have liked to play the Nocturne from his friends’ list, he could only play the one within his current abilities. Smiling wryly at this thought, he looked at Lee Ji-hye.
“Well? Still think anyone can play a Nocturne?”
“……”
She didn’t answer.
Song Min-woo tilted his head, watching Ji-hye stare blankly. Little did she know that she had been completely captivated by his performance.
Ji-hye had always considered herself talented at piano.
Starting by chance at age four, she had always been told she had talent. She rarely placed outside the top three in competitions, and though she didn’t often win, she had reason to be proud.
At least, until she heard that boy play.
The Nocturne’s melody was infinitely beautiful. It evoked a clear night sky without clouds, the gentle shimmer of stars, and a quiet night without the moon. A calm night that soothes the tired.
It whispered for listeners to lay down their burdens and close their eyes until tomorrow.
‘So that’s what they call a genius.’
Feeling beauty in music is common. Even playing a piece correctly reveals some of the beauty intended by the composer. But to inspire the listener to imagine that beauty—that was rare. It could only be experienced from a true master on stage.
It was as if Chopin himself had played.
Even after the performance had ended, the melody lingered in her ears. Ji-hye could only stare, dazed.
“Well? Still think anyone can play a Nocturne?”
“……”
No response.
To snap her out of it, Song Min-woo struck a loud dissonant chord.
[~~~!]
“Ah, geez!”
Startled, Ji-hye jumped up.
“Uh… what… no…?”
“Why that reaction? Someone might think I played badly. Surely, I didn’t really mess it up, did I?”
Ji-hye, convinced she could not say so, shook her head firmly.
“You didn’t play badly. It’s just that you played so well I’m speechless.”
“That’s a relief. I was a little worried it might have sounded terrible.”
Song Min-woo smiled faintly, tinged with bitterness.
She thought it strange. With such skill, he lacked confidence in his own performance. If it were her, she would have been boasting all over the place.
Comparing Min-woo, who never settled, with herself, who was content with modest skills, Ji-hye felt embarrassed.
‘I envy him… that mindset.’
Knowing that mindset contributed to his skill, Ji-hye covered her flushed face with a smile and changed the subject.
“By the way, why didn’t you record it before playing? Now you have to perform twice.”
“What? Ah, I forgot.”
Apparently, he had completely forgotten about the submission piece. After such a beautiful performance, his clumsy, absent-minded demeanor was surprising.
“Give it here. I’ll record it for you.”
Ji-hye snatched the phone from Min-woo’s hands and started filming naturally.
Gratefully, Min-woo nodded and sat at the piano once more.
Again, the Nocturne’s melody filled the music room.
Exactly the same as before, not a single note off. Watching Min-woo reproduce the beauty flawlessly, Ji-hye let out an involuntary, defeated laugh.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have taught him how to enter competitions.’
She was convinced that Min-woo would not only pass the preliminaries but also the finals with ease.
