WCP 15

chapter 15

A week had flown by like the wind since the preliminaries ended.

As if it had become part of their daily routine, Song Minwoo and Lee Ji-hye once again met up in the music room during lunch, facing each other with nervous expressions.

“Are you ready?”
“Always.”

The two exchanged meaningful glances, quietly gauging each other’s reaction. Then, as if they had rehearsed it in advance, they simultaneously revealed their phone screens.

Displayed on the screen was none other than the homepage of the Korean International Music Competition. More precisely, the list of semifinalists that had been posted only two minutes earlier.

[21st Korean International Music Competition — Semifinalists]

• Lee Ji-hye

• Jung Da-yun

• Kang Yun

• Song Minwoo

Out of 40 contestants, 36 had been eliminated, leaving only 4 names.

Seeing her own name clearly listed, Lee Ji-hye let out a cheer filled with determination.

“Nice! I passed!!”

Such pure joy.

Even though the finals still lay ahead, she was already bouncing with excitement just from passing the preliminaries. Minwoo smiled quietly at the sight and tried to calm her down.

“Careful, or you’ll fall again like in the prelims.”
“So what if I fall! Passing is all that matters~”

Minwoo thought that if anyone saw her, they might think she had already won the whole competition. Still, he lowered his eyes back to the list of names.

“…Jung Da-yun?”

There was one name he didn’t recognize. If she had made it this far, her skill had to be outstanding. But why couldn’t he remember seeing her during the prelims?

“She’s the girl who always came in second place at every competition last year.”
“Perennial second place, huh…”

She must have suffered quite a bit. Glory and fame always belonged to the one who took first place. All that second place could taste was the bitterness of watching someone else take the spotlight. And that bitterness led only to two paths: either accept it calmly and take one more step forward, or be shackled by it and stop in place.

“Anyway, the finals are next week already? Isn’t the schedule too tight?”

Ji-hye scrolled down the website as she spoke.

Along with the results, the semifinal schedule had also been posted. The finals would take place only 10 days after the announcement, which made Minwoo grimace.

He had just 10 days to prepare his piece. That might be enough time for other contestants—but not for him.

Because the only time Minwoo could practice piano was during lunch break.

‘At most, one hour a day… five days a week… so about five hours in total.’

And since he didn’t have a piano at home, the school music room was his only option. That meant practice on weekends was impossible.

Sure, one could complete a piece in that time—but for him, it was a pressing problem. If only he had a piano at home, it would all be solved. But he didn’t, and that was the biggest headache.

“Don’t suppose there’s an abandoned piano lying around somewhere.”
“What are you talking about when you’ve got a perfectly good piano right here?”

Ji-hye tilted her head in confusion at his muttering.

“Well, I don’t have one at home.”
“Oh, right…”

Remembering belatedly, she scratched her cheek. Then she gave him a pitying look, as she often did.

“What about staying after school to use the music room?”
“I don’t know if the teachers would allow it since I’m not in any music clubs.”

If he remembered correctly, only band members or music-related clubs could use the music room after school. Sadly, Minwoo wasn’t part of any club.

“They’ll probably allow it.”
“That would be nice, but…”
“No, really. I’ll ask them for you.”

What a kind girl. To go out of her way like that for someone else. Even if it might be difficult to get permission, Minwoo felt grateful just for the thought. With that in mind, he followed Ji-hye as she immediately headed for the teachers’ office.

“Of course! Use it all you want!”

Barely seconds had passed since they asked about using the music room after school.

Minwoo had been convinced the teachers would refuse for various reasons, so he could only gape in disbelief at the music teacher’s cheerful response.

Ji-hye smirked triumphantly.

“See? I told you.”
“Wait… permission was that easy to get?”

Surely there should’ve been more procedure involved. Still doubtful, Minwoo asked again.

“Come on, two of our students—at a regular high school, not an arts school—made it to the semifinals of the Korean International Music Competition! Of course we teachers should support you.”
“But what about other clubs—”
“Oh, the band club? Don’t worry about them. They’ve never once used the music room anyway.”

Without hesitation, the teacher handed them the key.

“Here, take the key. Since you’ve made it this far, practice with the mindset of winning it all.”

Before he could say anything more, Minwoo found himself holding the key, along with unexpected encouragement.

“I didn’t think you were aiming for a music career, Minwoo. Balancing studies and piano can’t be easy. Haven’t your parents opposed it?”
“They actually agreed more easily than I thought.”
“Really? You’re not lying, are you?”

If anything, it might have been easier if his parents had opposed him outright. He was grateful for their full support, but that only increased the pressure. If things didn’t work out and he had to let go of his dream… how could he face them then?

A trace of bitterness crossed his face but vanished quickly. Burying emotions deeply was one of the few talents he had carried over from his previous life.

“Well then, I’ll be going. Thank you, teacher.”
“Alright~ since you’ve both made it to the semifinals, practice with the mindset of winning. Got it?”

What a good-natured teacher. Thinking this, Minwoo left the office with Ji-hye.

“Now that the piano problem’s solved, how about telling me your plan?” she teased as soon as they stepped out.

“What plan? Just practice as much as I can.”

Minwoo recalled the competition notice:

“Unlike the preliminaries, the semifinal repertoire will be limited to works by Liszt. Contestants must choose their piece as soon as possible.”

‘…Of all things, Liszt.’

Works filled with dazzling, fiendish virtuosity. Relentless practice was essential. He needed to test himself to see if he could truly perform one flawlessly.

“Have you chosen your piece yet?”
“I’ve got one in mind. Not fully decided, though.”

In truth, he had already chosen. The question was whether he was worthy to play it.

Memories of the past flickered—of rejecting the hand once offered by a dear friend.

‘…Franz, what would you say?’

With a question that would never be answered, Minwoo clenched the music room key tightly, holding onto the memories of his old companion.

The grand piano’s resonant tones filled the practice room.

The weight and grandeur of its sound—something no upright piano could match—resounded with demonic brilliance.

Liszt’s Étude No. 5, Feux Follets (Will-o’-the-Wisps).

One of the most devilish works ever written, considered near the pinnacle of pianistic difficulty. Only true geniuses could play it without a single mistake.

As the fiery notes danced like countless sparks and then died away, Kang Yun casually shook his hands, as if it were nothing special.

“Excellent performance.”

Applause came from the corner of the room. The man praising him was Kang Seo-jun—once a renowned pianist and rival of Professor Lee Jung-hoon, now retired and teaching his grandson.

He was both grandfather and strict mentor, watching the boy with his usual severity.

“Well, Grandpa? At this level, the Korean International Music Competition should be easy, right?”
“Don’t get arrogant. I heard the judges were divided in the prelims. Especially between you and that Song Minwoo kid.”

Though retired, Kang Seo-jun’s connections in the music world still ran deep. That was how he knew the inside story.

But his grandson dismissed the warning with a smirk.

“Oh, you mean that loser in a school uniform? Sure, he played decently, but he’s still below me.”

The Moonlight Sonata had been flawless, yes. But it was Moonlight Sonata—one of the easier pieces in the classical repertoire. Choosing such a piece in the prelims only meant he wasn’t confident with harder ones.

In the semifinals, restricted to Liszt’s technically demanding works, he wouldn’t be much of a threat.

‘I’ll crush him properly in the finals.’

Burning with competitive fire, Kang Yun stood from the piano.

“Never having lost first place has made you arrogant.”
“So what? You know as well as I do, Grandpa. Among my peers, no one can beat me on the piano.”

At his confident reply, Kang Seo-jun sighed quietly.

“Still, remember this—arrogance never leads anywhere good.”
“Yeah, yeah.”

Arrogance was only a problem when skill didn’t back it up. For him, it was confidence. He truly believed that.

And with that belief, Kang Yun left the practice room—headed to claim first place, as he always had.