Becoming An Idol Wasn’T On My Plan [EN]: Chapter 352

“You didn’t know I was coming?”

Ji Dong-hwa asked, taking off his coat and looking at a dumbfounded Bong-ju.

Was that casual or formal? Either way, compared to him in shorts and a t-shirt, Bong-ju felt underdressed.

*He looks great, that’s the outfit he wore for the overseas performance last time.*

The cynical boy from his childhood had become a young man obsessed with piano and idols.

“No,” Bong-ju answered quickly to avoid any awkward silence, pulling himself out of his wandering thoughts. Ji Dong-hwa’s gaze shifted to Bong-ju’s father.

Bong-ju followed his gaze and saw his father, who seemed more affectionate lately, perhaps due to his age, standing with his arms wide open.

“Surprise.”

* * *

Sometimes, Ji Dong-hwa would fall into a mysterious mood.

When Bong-ju was young, he didn’t know that his teacher was so popular, nor did he know what a celebrity was.

A warm person.

A person who looked at him with thoughtful eyes, even though his expression was often cold.

A person who would anticipate what he wanted before he even realized it.

That alone was enough for the young Bong-ju to follow him.

And now, that person, that person is a celebrity, someone whose name everyone in Korea has heard at least once. It’s surreal.

Moreover, that person is in a humble place like his kitchen.

“Here.”

Personally brewing tea with a teapot he brought and handing him a cup—it’s really something.

They sat at the dining table where his father had left him with a single sentence: ‘Now that you’re an adult, you should listen to the story and decide for yourself.’

“How is life overseas?”

As Ji Dong-hwa took a sip of tea and asked, the atmosphere seemed to melt away.

With a comfortable tone, only after getting a little older did Bong-ju realize that Ji Dong-hwa calculated everything—the pitch, the placement of commas, whether it was a legato [smooth and connected] or not, how strong it should be—and put it into his sentences.

“I’ve never been to a Korean school, so I can’t compare, but honestly, I don’t really know what’s different.”

“Is that so?”

An atmosphere where he could naturally open his mouth. Bong-ju knew how much meticulous consideration was put into creating this.

“Yes, playing the piano is the same.”

“Your only criterion for judgment hasn’t changed.”

A faint smile appeared. *Could he live if he were locked in a solitary room, given only a piano, and provided with only one meal a day?*

Not for a lifetime, but maybe for a month or so.

“A month?”

“Yes, because the sound is too good to be heard alone… I also like other people’s performances.”

Ji Dong-hwa gave a clear smile this time.

Sound. The reason why he absolutely didn’t want to go to amusement parks, and the reason why he didn’t go to clubs with his university friends.

It was as if he had a disease where his fingertips would tingle when he heard disharmonious sounds. Sound was the most important thing to Bong-ju.

Bong-ju became an early bird because the vibrant sounds of dawn had a subtle sense of rhythm when listened to carefully, but the city’s nights were filled with chaotic sounds.

Thanks to that, rumors circulated around the university Bong-ju attended.

*His voice is soft, and his actions are minimal. He doesn’t even like the noise he makes.* This level of rumor wasn’t even considered strange.

His university friends, though Bong-ju didn’t know it, called him the ‘personality detector.’

He would be indifferent to ordinary performances, showing no reaction, but if he heard even a slightly different sound, like a unique ending note, his pupils would dilate and his eyes would sparkle, hence the nickname.

To some, he was also called ‘weird Asian,’ a racist nickname.

On days when there were public performances at school, as soon as he exchanged brief greetings with a few participants, he would unhesitatingly ask, ‘Can I get your number?’ Then, he would never contact them, only check the schedules of competitions or concerts, appear to give a bouquet of flowers, and simply disappear.

He was definitely a ‘weird Asian.’

If his face was ugly or his behavior was improper, they wouldn’t have given him their numbers, but unfortunately, Bong-ju had grown up wonderfully.

If a handsome man with elegant steps approached and asked for their number, they couldn’t help but imagine, ‘Ah, he wants to get close,’ or ‘Is he perhaps interested?’ Then, when they thought, ‘What kind of guy is he?’ because he never contacted them, he would just hand them a bouquet of flowers and disappear after the performance.

So, rumors spread that if you could only perform beautifully, you could get endless attention, and rumors that some people were devoted to practicing were added on top of that.

Rumors growing rapidly.

And the person himself was not interested in such rumors.

Because they didn’t contain harmonies that would attract his ears or percussive bursts that would focus his attention.

Rumors piled upon rumors, but he was just peaceful.

He hardly cared about other people’s gazes. He was just a guy crazy about instruments.

“…Sometimes, I wonder if I did something wrong, Bong-ju.”

Ji Dong-hwa looked a little bitter. Bong-ju didn’t know his inner thoughts, which were as follows:

*‘Why do all the people I touch end up having quirky aspects? Is this really a bug?’*

The process of a child who was only fragile gradually growing up and establishing their ego has beautiful aspects, but in Bong-ju’s case, he grew up as a weirdo, so there remains a question mark as to whether it is only beautiful.

“Why?”

“…Well.”

That means it’s difficult to answer. Ji Dong-hwa usually doesn’t say anything he’s not sure about.

“More than that, what are your plans for the vacation?”

“First of all, an employee contacted me and asked if I would like to teach piano at the welfare center.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to do it.”

*It would be nice if I could become someone like the teacher,* he thought. He omitted the last part because he was a little embarrassed.

“Okay.”

No evaluation comes back. It’s always like that. Ji Dong-hwa doesn’t offer any judgment about his choices.

However, his ears, which could hear everything—intonation, intensity, speed—told him the emotion contained within was pride.

“If you’re not too busy, would it be okay to ask you to accompany me for a performance?”

Frankly, he would listen even if he ordered him to.

“……Isn’t that a position I should rather apply for and get rejected from?”

Bong-ju finally brought up the question he had wanted to ask since earlier.

He didn’t know what kind of performance it was, but the level was different. Accompanying the performance of an idol member who performs overseas? That’s something a person with experience should do, not just a university undergraduate.

“How can I do it with my skills?”

“You lack self-awareness, Bong-ju.”

*That’s what your friends tell you much more often.*

“With your skills, I have to scout you.”

“Teacher, I’m always grateful for your compliments, but……”

Bong-ju pondered the last words. He wanted to use polite words. That way, it would sound better. The intention he wanted to convey was clear.

*Even if you give me empty compliments, I have nothing to give you.*

There were still too many performers in the world that he hadn’t heard. There were so many sounds he hadn’t heard.

His piano playing was pretty good, but he couldn’t even imagine how many better sounds there were than that.

With that thought, Bong-ju felt like he was falling into a trance for a moment.

*Maybe there’s something that surpasses the C sound he heard back then. Probably not, though.*

He now knew that pianos were consumables, so the one in the welfare center was almost unusable, but even so, he didn’t remember hearing a sound as beautiful as the short note of ‘C’ he heard back then.

“Then, is that a rejection?”

“Yes, if I become a blemish……”

“Then I’ll have to go in the direction of removing the piano altogether.”

“…Pardon?”

* * *

Dressed in a suit and with his hair styled, Bong-ju sighed deeply as he looked in the mirror.

*So, this is what it means to be all dressed up.* He had lived his whole life thinking that it was enough to look neat, but it seemed that entertainment was like this.

Still in his early twenties, he couldn’t say that he had no trace of youth, but it was a time when his frame was gradually revealing itself.

The stylist smiled with satisfaction. “He has a face that’s fun to decorate.”

*From my house,* Bong-ju muttered inwardly.

Removing the piano altogether was out of the question. How much he loved the songs Ji Dong-hwa composed; it was a declaration to throw away all the sheet music that included the piano.

“…Teacher, really.”

*He’s clever.* He knew how much he liked Ji Dong-hwa’s songs and induced him in that way.

To use the habit of opening and reading the copies of the sheet music written by Ji Dong-hwa whenever he was bored in this way.

So, that’s why his father advised him, ‘You have to know how to yield to the person who holds your weakness.’

He also said, ‘Only until you seize that person’s weakness,’ but he omitted it because it was something he couldn’t even imagine doing to Ji Dong-hwa.

And the sheet music he obtained in that way.

“…Ugh.”

The only song he had to perform was one song. Even that was on the piano placed next to Ji Dong-hwa. That alone made him feel nervous.

He said that this solo album contained songs composed for each of the people he was grateful for, and when he heard the explanation that this song was composed for him, he really wanted to faint.

Bong-ju recalled when he first opened the sheet music.

*‘This is it.’*

*‘……Wow, can I receive such a gift, um, uh?’*

The sheet music Ji Dong-hwa gave him had many empty spaces for accompaniment instructions. In other words, the sheet music only contained the minimum intention. The intention to leave the rest to his discretion was clear.

It was sheet music that he couldn’t entrust without trusting the accompanist. One of Ji Dong-hwa’s close friends, Ryu I-deun, once joked, ‘He has too much trust,’ and maybe it was because of things like this.

*‘…Teacher, perhaps.’*

*‘Yeah, can you fill it in?’*

After saying that he wrote the song for him, who could refuse such a request?

Besides, if you present such a beautiful melody to his face, who on earth could refuse?

“Are you nervous?”

He nodded at the words of the person who was touching his hair next to him.

“Yes.”

Mistakes are not a problem. Honestly, if he only had the sheet music, there would be no mistakes to make. If he had the skills to do that, he wouldn’t be able to attend the university he’s attending now.

However, the problem is autonomy. He had never performed only as instructed, but this was a different story.

It’s Ji Dong-hwa’s work. He’s telling him to touch it. His hands trembled.

“Anyway, it’s just filming today, so you can do it several times. I heard it again.”

“Having such good hearing is a blessing.”

To be exact, he said that the sound source of the video filmed this time would be included in the album as it is. Therefore, when you think about it, he is completing the song today.

And then, perform on stage as he did today…….

“…Certainly, I think I know why Dong-hwa brought you.”

Bong-ju couldn’t understand the meaning of those words, but he skipped over them.

Besides, the pay—this is not the amount a university undergraduate should receive.

No matter how autonomously he does the accompaniment, and even if he agreed to perform together, such an amount was burdensome.

As soon as he saw the contract, his father sighed, ‘…Um, Bong-ju, I think he has high expectations for you.’

“Money is like a cornucopia [an abundant supply]……”

*Is this the majesty of an idol who is popular overseas?*

He pleaded to reduce the pay, but the only answer he got back was an answer in the tone of ‘I don’t want to be reported to the labor office.’

In other words, it was a fair price…, ugh, trust is heavy.

A neat but definitely eye-catching knock.

After that, Ji Dong-hwa opened the door and came in. As soon as he saw Bong-ju’s face, he smiled.

“Are you ready?”

*No. I think it’s ten years too early to put my hands on the teacher’s song.* Usually, he pressed the keys as naturally as breathing, but now, he’s definitely like when he first sat in front of the piano, not even knowing where to start.