Becoming An Idol Wasn’T On My Plan [EN]: Chapter 313

Tarantella. Originally a dance from Naples, Italy. However, prominent composers like Chopin and Liszt have adapted it into classical pieces in their own styles.

I spent all day yesterday researching information about the competition.

I needed some level of understanding, or I wouldn’t be able to properly appreciate what Bong-ju wanted to show.

So, I listened to pieces that frequently appear in competitions, diligently studying what aspects needed to be highlighted in the performance.

In the process, I learned about the list of pieces that supposedly receive a ‘piece buff’ [an advantage based on the piece’s difficulty].

When both performers make no mistakes and have similar expressiveness, who should be the winner?

In such cases, the judges supposedly consider the piece itself.

They holistically consider which piece is more difficult to practice and express, and decide the winner based on that. In that sense, there are pieces that give an advantage to the participant.

One of them is Tarantella. I heard it’s rare to see in the elementary division.

The competition I’m watching now is the main round after passing the preliminaries. The piece is a free choice.

And Bong-ju, as if showing why he’s playing this piece, moved his hands energetically with a faint smile.

The child who was amazed that sound came out when pressing the piano keys is now pressing the keys as if that fact is too obvious.

I could see a firm belief that the sound he wants will resonate when he moves his hands.

His fingers gently swept across the keys.

Tarantella consists of an intense and lively beginning, a sweet middle, and an ending that seems to mix the two.

It’s structured like going to a party, meeting a loved one, and dancing with that person, or at least that’s how it sounded to me, who doesn’t have deep knowledge of classical music.

However, Bong-ju’s Tarantella looked like an experimental ground for exploring what the piano is.

The beginning focused on auditory intensity, approaching the heart with overwhelming emotion.

The following middle part was so soft.

Like someone checking what kind of sounds the piano can make one by one, he meticulously adjusted the speed of lifting and pressing the keys, moving only to create beautiful sounds.

Finally, in the latter part, he enjoys assembling the sounds he had previously identified. The flowing melody is ever-changing.

There’s no unique interpretation of his own, but the sound is really beautiful for a child of that age.

You could even see traces of him constantly agonizing over how to press each note during practice.

And that kid calls me teacher.

The title is wrong. Shouldn’t it be just an uncle who played the piano a bit in his younger days?

The performance came to an end. Bong-ju played the last note cleanly and took a breath.

He stared at his fingertips for a moment, then became sullen.

‘I want to play more,’ that short sentence was transparently floating on his face.

Applause didn’t come out yet because he hadn’t taken his hand off the piano.

In fact, everyone’s hands were itching to applaud, but they were just looking at Bong-ju’s hands, waiting until the performer completely took his hands off the instrument, as that was the etiquette.

Bong-ju finally took his hands off. He slightly bowed his head, perhaps embarrassed by the pouring applause, and bowed ninety degrees while looking diagonally at the stage.

Awkward clothes and hair. Timid posture.

He was so confident when walking towards the piano, but when he turned around, his gait was weak.

“…He must really like the piano.”

The person sitting next to me moved their hands vigorously and smiled contentedly.

I can agree a hundred times over.

* * *

In fact, it wouldn’t have been a big problem even if it wasn’t the piano.

Whether it was a bassoon, clarinet, horn, or even a *haegeum* [Korean stringed instrument] or *gayageum* [another Korean stringed instrument], Bong-ju was ready to fall in love with an instrument.

Because he was a human who loved beautiful tones.

When he first met Ji Dong-hwa, he was in the second grade, so there was no music in the curriculum, but even if it had been just one year later, he would have instinctively adjusted his breathing to make the sound of a poor-quality recorder more fluid.

However, Bong-ju had never shown it to anyone.

Growing up alone under his father after his parents’ divorce, it became difficult to say what he wanted. Courage is created by the environment.

“So, he originally wouldn’t have had the chance to go to a competition like that?”

A fox was sitting in Gi Ji-saeng’s arms, tapping the keyboard in front of him.

It was a gift for Hyun, who was curious, saying it was amazing after seeing the monitor.

“Yeah.”

That child was originally scheduled to grow up, work a decent job, and learn an instrument as a hobby.

“That’s not a bad life either.”

He’s precocious. Is it because he’s the base of Lee Hyun-jae?

“Is there good or bad in human life?”

Anyway, Bong-ju needed a certain moment.

He needed to meet someone who would notice what he wanted first and tell him that it was okay to want it. It would be even better if that person knew a lot about instruments or music.

Without that moment, he wouldn’t have had the courage to sit in front of the piano.

He would have just glanced sideways, thinking, ‘That’s amazing. The sound is pretty.’

Authorizing him to sit in front of the piano, explaining the octave, and, above all, instilling the confidence that he could create beautiful sounds with his own hands for the first time.

Thanks to that moment, Bong-ju’s world expanded.

More precisely, he was connected to the world through the piano.

This child, who is still an elementary school student, realized early on that he wanted to play an instrument, something he would only realize twenty years later.

It’s amazing. Just meeting one person can change your life.

“That’s very special.”

A fox smiled sadly.

A special relationship. The only special being to him here is one life form.

Hyun, born from Gi Ji-saeng’s hand and with amazing calculation abilities, quietly muttered.

“I want Teacher to be with me forever.”

So Gi Ji-saeng didn’t answer.

Parenting principle: Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

Also, promising something you already know is false is too stupid.

Gi Ji-saeng stroked Hyun’s head, listening to the sound of explosions outside his room.

“Why are you holding flowers?”

He suddenly asked when Ji Dong-hwa was caught on the screen walking out with a bouquet of Damascus roses.

“Gratitude, hard work, affection, mourning. Usually one of the four. That’s a sign of hard work.”

The flower language of Damascus roses is ‘beautifully shining appearance’ or ‘memories’.

Hmm, disgustingly sentimental.

While Gi Ji-saeng was laughing at Ji Dong-hwa’s bold imagination, Hyun quietly shone his eyes.

Because he had quietly searched the dictionary for the words gratitude and mourning.

* * *

After the competition, I headed to the place where the performers were out to meet their acquaintances.

Just in time, I saw Bong-ju timidly coming out and awkwardly receiving excessive congratulations from a child of his age.

“Wow, you! Why are you so good! We started together!”

“That’s because when Bong-ju came out to practice alone every day, you lied to me that you practiced.”

“Teacher! I also worked really hard!”

Bong-ju gets easily surprised by unfamiliar and sudden situations, so I waited for the timing from a little further away.

…Wait, doesn’t he seem like a slightly dangerous human?

A human secretly observing elementary school students, wearing a snapback pressed down. That’s too typical of a kidnapping method.

Besides, even his clothes are a large black cardigan. If it were a high school competition, it would end with being called gloomy, but it’s a problem because it’s elementary school.

Only then did I raise my snapback so that my face could be seen well. I’m not a suspicious human, but just an acquaintance elementary school student who came to support his growth.

At that time, Bong-ju made eye contact with me.

Bong-ju tilted his head once with an ‘huh?’ expression. Then, he readjusted a flower that his friend bought in one hand and rubbed his eyes slightly.

I thought that was an action that could only be seen in creative works, but when I actually saw it, I only felt a pure and innocent impression.

Again, eye contact.

He flinched, taking a step back.

I moved my steps.

Bong-ju slowly approached me with an unbelievable expression.

Behind him, the welfare center staff looked puzzled and examined the direction Bong-ju was walking, then quickly picked up Bong-ju’s friend.

“Shall we go to our cafe! Teacher will buy it for you.”

Um, consideration.

I approached Bong-ju and bent down. I carefully held out the bouquet of Damascus roses.

“It’s been a while.”

Bong-ju silently accepted the bouquet.

“Is this real?”

“Yeah.”

It’s me without an inch of lie. Although it’s only half because the other members didn’t come.

“…What if it’s a dream?”

“Even if you wake up, I’ll be holding a bouquet.”

Because this is reality. What would change even if I fell asleep for a while and woke up?

“Did you, see, the letter?”

Really, it would have been a big problem if you had collected the fan letters just one day later.

“Yeah. Yesterday. Sorry for seeing it late.”

I squatted down and took off my hat. Being a celebrity, I shook my hair once to tidy it up.

Looking at Bong-ju’s face again, he was tearing up.

Um, if you’re going to cry, shouldn’t you cry on the day of the awards announcement after such a wonderful performance?

To my biased and unobjective ears, Bong-ju’s performance was the best.

I’m not a judge anyway, so what does it matter? I abandoned neutrality a long time ago.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”

The promise I made when I parted ways at the welfare center.

Bong-ju promised me that if he ever gave a wonderful performance, he would definitely let me hear it.

“…I, I…”

He hugged the bouquet tightly. Then, he loosened his grip because he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Ah, I don’t know. There are so many things I want to say in my head.”

I took out a handkerchief from my pocket. Since both hands were tied to the bouquet, I wiped it for him.

“Thank you for teaching me the octave. Thank you for telling me how pretty the sound is. Thank you for letting me touch the piano.”

Bong-ju hiccupped but tried to keep his face still so that I could wipe it easily.

“Teaching me chords, learning how to read sheet music for the first time, I, I’m so happy when I’m sitting at the piano.”

The logic was scattered here and there. The context disappeared, and only emotions were listed.

It’s like Chae Ha-min drunk on (non-alcoholic) alcohol.

“I talk to my dad more often too. I made friends too. It’s strange. Everything.”

What’s strange? It’s because you’re good.

“After meeting Teacher, something, everything is so strange. Only good things are happening, so I’m scared.”

We always live in the present and retrace our original choices.

We are always curious about why we became like this, what the first choice was, the original choice (actually, it’s a more complex concept).

A representative example is that a novelist’s experience of stealing influenced his overall literary color.

Bong-ju seemed to understand his meeting with me that way.

It could be a coincidence misunderstanding caused by a series of good things happening after meeting me, or it could be a choice that really changed his life.

I’m too stupid to be sure what it is.

Only Gi Ji-saeng can know such things, how can I know what meaning my meeting with this young child has in his life?

But, what I can be sure of is.

“Then will you call me next time? If something bad happens, tell me too.”

When I interpret the meaning of my life in one unified direction, I will consider my meeting with you.

Bong-ju nodded several times at my words and grabbed my hand.

“If, if you have time, let’s go play the piano, Teacher.”

A desperate voice.

It was a timid voice for a child who performed a difficult piece without mistakes at the competition, and with excellent skills compared to his peers.

“Get permission from your father.”

And instead of a teacher, I think just an old man in the back room would be better, Bong-ju.