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chapter 49
The Little Dog Waltz, or the Small Waltz.
Completed in 1847 and dedicated to Countess Potocka.
Opus 64, Waltz No. 1.
When Kang Yoon said they had to perform a duet, why was this the first piece that came to Minwoo’s mind?
Surely, he’d abandoned all lingering attachments to it in his previous life.
Sitting in front of the piano in the store, staring at the sheet filled with uneven notes, Song Minwoo couldn’t help but let out a bitter smile.
“I never thought I’d touch this piece again.”
It was a work he’d once sworn never to perform again in his previous life.
—The waltz you composed… It’s my favorite piece.
Even after years had passed—after death itself—that voice had never faded.
Still vivid, as if he had heard it just yesterday.
That familiar voice brushed against his ears, but Minwoo deliberately ignored it and let his fingers trace over the notes on the staff.
“Sounds familiar. Don’t tell me that’s the Little Dog Waltz?”
An elderly man who’d been tuning another piano nearby spoke up.
“Yes. I made a few adjustments so it can be played as a duet.”
“Ah, that donation concert thing… must be for that, huh?”
Elder Yoon Jongsoo came closer and skimmed through the sheet music.
After glancing over it, he clicked his tongue with a half-impressed sigh.
“Tsk. You compose well, you play well—what kind of good karma did you build in your past life to be born this talented?”
“Not sure. Don’t recall doing anything that great, honestly.”
At best, he’d just left behind some sheet music.
He’d never served his country, led a revolution, or sacrificed himself for others.
“Still, you’re one lucky bastard.”
Grumbling, the elder went back to his tuning work.
He was in the middle of adjusting the piano when the sound of footsteps came from outside—the door opened.
“Hey, Song Minwoo! You in here?!”
“Jeez, you’re loud the moment you walk in.”
Correction—he wasn’t a customer, he was an uninvited guest.
“You don’t have to shout; I can hear you just—”
“Ah, hi, Minwoo.”
A soft, timid voice interrupted him—it was unmistakably Jung Dayoon.
“Dayoon? What are you doing here?”
He’d only invited Kang Yoon. So why was Dayoon here too?
“Um… Kang Yoon said we should practice together…”
“Well, it’s a duet. We’ve gotta at least sync our hands, right?”
Kang Yoon muttered like it was the most obvious thing.
“Anyway, where’s the sheet music? That’s why you called, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Here.”
Pressed for time, Minwoo handed the sheets over without another word.
“The Little Dog Waltz? For real? Wait—don’t tell me you wrote this yourself?”
The manuscript was handwritten, not printed—a rare sight in this age.
“I tried looking online but couldn’t find it, so I just wrote it out from memory.”
“Are you insane? Who are you, Mozart? Writing sheet music from memory?”
Not Mozart, Minwoo thought silently. Chopin.
But that wasn’t something he could say out loud.
“I just have a good memory, that’s all.”
“Show-off. You think you’re so great.”
Grumbling, Kang Yoon sat down and started playing the piece straight through.
The melody in D-flat major softly filled the room.
After a few bars, Kang Yoon looked back at Minwoo, disbelief on his face.
“This was actually online?”
“Yeah. Sure was.”
A blatant lie.
He could search the entire internet and never find it—it was an original arrangement by Chopin himself.
“So? What do you think? Not bad, right?”
“Not bad? This is amazing!”
He was overreacting a bit.
Was his arrangement really that impressive to him?
“Really…?”
Curious, Dayoon leaned over to look at the sheet.
After quietly scanning the score, she finally muttered one short word—
“Wow.”
Then she sat beside him and began pressing the keys in line with the melody.
A neat line of eighth notes rang out—
unlike Kang Yoon, who’d handled the bass, Dayoon played the treble melody part.
“This is actually a duet? It sounds like—”
“Like each part could stand alone as a complete piece,” Kang Yoon said for her.
“Exactly,” Minwoo thought. Because I wrote it that way.
“Enough amazement—try playing it together.”
Maybe then they’d understand why he’d arranged the duet like this.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
“Okay.”
They nodded at each other and adjusted their posture.
“One—”
“Two—”
—And three.
The moment the count dropped, the D-flat major melody filled the air.
A waltz—a dance of turning and returning.
Now a relic of classical music, but in the 19th century, the waltz was the life of every social gathering.
Everywhere it was played, partners moved their feet in rhythm—
a gentleman extended his hand, and a lady’s dress swirled in elegant circles.
That was the essence of a waltz: a dance of circles.
A restrained 3/4 time.
Strong–weak–weak, strong–weak–weak—
It required perfect synchronization between partners.
Without that harmony, the waltz collapsed.
To dance, you needed a partner who held your hand—
and if that harmony broke—
[Clang—]
A sour chord scraped through the air.
Like two dancers spinning, only to let go and stumble.
“Ah—sorry. I lost the beat.”
“No, I think I was a little too fast.”
It was their first time playing the arrangement, so mistakes were expected.
But not every mistake could be chalked up to human error.
[Clang!]
Another dissonance rang out—again, at the same point.
This time, Kang Yoon had come in half a beat early.
“L-let’s try again.”
“…”
They silently returned to a few measures earlier and started over.
But again, the same result—another sour note.
By the third or fourth time, Minwoo had to stop them.
“That’s enough. Let’s call it a day.”
Kang Yoon’s patience was clearly at its limit.
Any longer and he’d probably punch something—or someone.
And with Dayoon there, Minwoo wasn’t about to let that happen.
Dayoon was already fidgeting, glancing nervously between them.
“Hey, are you sure this is a duet piece?”
“Of course.”
“Then why do our parts keep clashing?!”
“Because your rhythms don’t match, that’s why.”
Both parts had strong personalities, yes, but not enough to make the piece fall apart—
so the real reason was simple.
Kang Yoon and Dayoon’s playing styles were polar opposites.
Kang Yoon: precise timing, technical perfection, mechanical solidity.
Jung Dayoon: fluid emotion, interpretive freedom, expressive flexibility.
Naturally, they clashed.
Two incompatible things forced into one vessel are bound to shatter.
There’s only one way to keep them together without breaking—
but at their current level, that was impossible.
If a third party explained it, it would mean nothing.
They had to discover it on their own.
“Anyway, that’s enough for today. We’ll practice again later.”
“…”
They didn’t look convinced.
Both were clearly wondering the same thing—
Why aren’t we syncing?
Is there something wrong with our technique?
Still, it was a good sign.
At least they weren’t blaming each other.
Trying to find the problem within themselves—that was admirable.
Minwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit proud watching them.
* * *
That had been just yesterday afternoon.
Yesterday, he’d been impressed by their self-reflection.
“Damn it, screw this.”
“Yeah, let’s quit.”
So why had that admirable spirit completely evaporated overnight?
Both stood up from the piano in perfect unison, glaring at the sheet music.
“Hold on—what do you mean quit?”
“The damned Little Dog Waltz, what else?”
Kang Yoon’s teeth practically ground as he spoke—
his glare alone looked ready to set the paper ablaze.
“This isn’t written for humans.”
“Yeah, seriously. How is anyone supposed to play this?”
Even Dayoon chimed in, nodding furiously.
Minwoo blinked. Dayoon too?
“For real, who even arranged this? I wanna crack open their skull and see what’s inside.”
[Nod nod]
Unbelievable.
How could they agree so perfectly on that but not on the music itself?
I was hoping they’d figure it out on their own, Minwoo thought with a sigh.
At this rate, they’d tear the sheet apart before having any epiphany.
And he really didn’t want to spend another half day taping torn staff paper back together.
“Alright, both of you, sit down. Don’t rush. I’ll help.”
“Help? Help my ass! What are you gonna do—teach us like you’re Chopin or something?!”
Minwoo barely resisted the urge to smirk.
Actually… yeah. I am.
But of course, that was something he could never say aloud.
