Becoming An Idol Wasn’T On My Plan [EN]: Chapter 353

When was the last time I was this nervous in front of a piano?

Only when I played in front of my teacher for the first time, and when I played for him after a long time. Of course, those times were nothing compared to now.

I wasn’t even nervous when I auditioned for the university video program. When the professor suddenly asked me to play impromptu, I just thought, ‘If I do well, the others will feel pressured to do well too, right?’ I wasn’t nervous at all (as an aside, I really love impromptu performances).

I just need to approach this like I always do for exams.

But look at me now.

Sweaty hands, trembling pupils, and a pounding heart. Listening to his own heart beat, Bongju suddenly muttered.

“…Presto [a fast tempo].”

“Should I arrange the piece to match that tempo for you? It’ll only take thirty minutes.”

The teacher leisurely listened to Bongju’s description of his heart rate and asked. He looked completely relaxed in front of the microphone.

“No, no. …Um, Teacher.”

“Yeah.”

“What happens if my mind suddenly goes blank and I can’t play?”

Is it a breach of contract, so I have to pay a penalty? I’ve only ever lived making music, so I don’t know anything about the law. This is a disaster.

But the teacher tilted his head as if asking the obvious.

“Then the shoot ends.”

“…Do we reschedule for another day?”

“If you say you can do it.”

“…What if I say I can’t?”

“Then that’s that.”

What is this? Is it because I don’t know the entertainment industry? Is this normal?

“Everyone here, I hired them with my own money, so it’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever you want to do.”

It’s not okay at all. That’s money my teacher earned with blood and sweat!

The context is understandable. He didn’t receive any money from a company, and he didn’t receive any investments, so it doesn’t matter if the project falls through.

“If you read the contract, it says you can end it whenever you want.”

My father read it for me and only said, ‘These are really good conditions; I’ve never seen anything like it before.’ I’ve never heard of this clause.

How can he be so considerate in every way? I’m a college student, but I must still look very young in my teacher’s eyes.

“…I should have honed my skills more.”

“You’re good enough.”

* * *

He lacks too much self-awareness.

Jidonghwa thought to himself. It didn’t seem to be entirely his fault, but he couldn’t be sure.

Students who plan to make a career out of playing the piano usually know who has what level of skill at which school.

That’s how they can strategically win prizes in competitions. They hear rumors about who is preparing for which competition and try their luck in a place they think they can handle.

So, they create something like a blacklist, a list of people who ‘almost always win first place if they enter.’

Occasionally, a bizarre thing happens where those blacklisted people compete against each other, which mainly occurs when they think, ‘I’m better than him/her.’

And Bongju beat them all.

Jidonghwa still remembered the day he handed Bongju a bouquet of flowers after that competition.

A competition he attended after two consecutive nights of sleepless schedules. The company told him to reconsider because his condition would be ruined, but Jidonghwa wasn’t someone who could be stopped by such a reason.

After quietly listening to the performance, Jidonghwa felt awe, or rather, shock.

Everything from the touch to the pedaling, everything was done according to his interpretation, with intention.

The piano has a low barrier to entry, but when you enter the realm of serious musicians, like with many instruments, it twists and squeezes the limits of human ability.

You can’t help but have musical 고민 [Korean word for ‘agonizing thoughts’ or ‘dilemmas’] about where to emphasize, how to understand the tempo, and how to apply the symbols in every single note.

And the sight of a high school student doing all of that as naturally as breathing made him admire human talent. He clearly felt a short admiration, saying ‘He’s good’ to the people who came before, but Bongju was something more.

As he walked to hand over the bouquet, feeling the linguistic limitations of what to say about the performance, a student approached Bongju and suddenly asked.

“…Do you practice for several hours?”

It was understandable. It was a performance worth emulating. Of course, just putting in the time wouldn’t allow you to perform the same way.

“Huh?”

“I’m just curious.”

“……Why are you measuring that?”

“Don’t you want to tell me?”

“Um, it’s not that. Just a moment.”

Bongju closed his eyes and calculated something.

“It’s difficult. The number of school class hours is different every day.”

“…Huh? Then, what about weekends?”

And he smiled as if that was easy to calculate.

“About fifteen hours.”

So, he was practically sitting in front of the piano from the moment he woke up until he went to bed.

At that time, I think I could understand Chae Hamin’s feelings a little.

What if he hurts his hand doing that?

That day, Jidonghwa immediately reviewed everything that was good for wrist care and sent it to Bongju’s house.

Back in reality, Jidonghwa looked at Bongju in front of him.

How could someone who can play like that….

In the first place, it’s his own album. He’s willing to scrap it no matter how much he spent if the quality is low, but he doesn’t enjoy wasting money either. He wouldn’t have entrusted it to him if he didn’t believe that good quality would come out.

‘……If you’re going to resemble me, I wish you’d resemble my objective eye a little bit.’

The song title is ‘Ripe.’ It’s a word usually used to mean that a fruit is ripe. It’s quite interesting that the pronunciation is similar to the word meaning life (although etymologically, they are not related at all).

A song written for Bongju.

It’s refreshing to see Bongju, who has grown up and is now an adult. He’s so tall that he’s almost at eye level; I wonder if he’s the same little kid.

So, it’s a song written with the thought of, ‘Why don’t you look back once in a while?’

It’s valuable for both Jidonghwa himself and Bongju to look back on the time they’ve lived and see how much they’ve grown and what changes have occurred.

That intention must have been conveyed well.

Jidonghwa glanced at Bongju’s sheet music, which was full of traces of numerous notes.

And not only that, but he also had a desire to leave another memory.

No, rather, this is the main purpose.

It’s worth celebrating that the relationship that started during the short broadcasting period has continued until now.

Of course, it’s still embarrassing to be called a teacher.

“Then, shall we try it first?”

“…Hoo, I’ll do my best to get approval in one take.”

Bongju carefully rubbed his hands. Jidonghwa was pleased with his attitude of treating his hands like treasures.

Yes, you need to take care of your body. Like me.

Jidonghwa hid the words, ‘You’re the one who approves it.’ This shoot will be repeated endlessly if Bongju isn’t satisfied himself. Anyway, he thinks he’ll be satisfied with most of how he plays.

He cleared his throat once and stood in front of the microphone.

When the director nodded once, Jidonghwa nodded once towards Bongju.

Bongju placed his hands on the piano keys and closed his eyes tightly.

That must be a routine.

And with delicate hands, he stroked the keys, and a soft melody flowed out.

Jidonghwa almost exclaimed in a loud voice.

He had carefully written the introduction himself. How could a teacher not pave the way first?

However, it was just a record of simple notes, so Bongju must have thought deeply about how to play even the first measure he had opened up.

A delicate sound. The beautiful sound that had become the standard for Bongju’s life tickled Jidonghwa’s ears.

Jidonghwa concentrated.

Because he shouldn’t be a hindrance.

* * *

As another day ripens and fades

The keys are pressed as if writing a diary while sitting in front of the piano

Sound. Sound. I almost accidentally pressed a different key.

It’s the first time. This has never happened even when I was performing with an orchestra.

I’ve seen the stage often. I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the concert, but I’ve been watching the teacher’s work on video.

Even then, I thought it was a really good voice, with excellent tone, but the impact of hearing it directly….

Bongju naturally created harmonies and looked at the teacher.

When their eyes met, he gave a warm smile, a smile that his teacher’s friends said they only saw once a month.

He looked at the keys again.

Is this accompaniment suitable for that sound? Is this right for such a good sound?

As the notes ripen and accumulate

A quiet ceiling as if watching a movie while lying on the bed

He grew. He definitely grew. The day ripened and faded, and he sat in front of the piano every day, accumulating notes. Bongju looked at the white keys of the piano, the quiet white keys.

He felt that the tunes he was playing were becoming more and more emotional.

It’s not good. This song was the story of a person looking back on life in a very calm way.

He must restrain himself. He must hold back emotions, but he must not show them off.

But the teacher’s voice was always like a truth serum to him. It made him reveal and express the 고민 [Korean word for ‘agonizing thoughts’ or ‘dilemmas’] he had been holding inside.

How to live well is always a matter of debate. Having only lived with the piano while attending art middle school and art high school, there were times when I wondered if this was the right way to live.

To be exact, I wondered if this was the right way to become someone like the teacher.

Someone who can listen to the words of a clumsy child with a warm heart, someone who can be a milestone for someone, someone like that….

Counting each leaf and looking back

I turn my head because I lack confidence

Is it possible to live only obsessed with the piano?

For a moment, he fell into thought, and then Bongju suddenly came to his senses.

These 고민 [Korean word for ‘agonizing thoughts’ or ‘dilemmas’] can be shared with the teacher while eating after today’s shoot. Right now, at least, he shouldn’t be a hindrance to that sound.

* * *

The performance ended, and he caught his breath. Bongju shook his head.

This isn’t it. The performance level was so low that his ears almost rotted. Ugh, what a trashy sound.

His ears were too attuned to quality to be satisfied with the applause that the staff was giving out of courtesy. Everyone must know that this performance can’t be put on the album, but they must be cheering him on so that the performer doesn’t lose heart.

“…Teacher.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll do it again.”

Bongju’s eyes were determined as he said that.

He clearly felt the emotions that the teacher was expressing and realized how the melody corresponded to them.

Bongju organized the sheet music he had prepared diligently and turned it over.

There’s no need to change the development of the accompaniment. He’s already memorized it all, so his handwriting will only be a hindrance.

He just needs to carefully sculpt the sound. For the better.

“Instead, could you give me just ten minutes?”

“Yeah, as much as you want.”

Bongju slowly started playing.

It’s really hard to become someone like the teacher.

So, at least, he has to become a human being who doesn’t betray the teacher’s trust.

Isn’t that why he’s been playing the piano until now?

Beautiful melodies poured out, but it wasn’t enough for Bongju’s ears.

The other staff members sent bewildered glances at Jidonghwa, asking, ‘Was that bad?’ and Jidonghwa expressed his opinion that ‘I liked it,’ but Bongju couldn’t see or hear it.

Ryu Ideun, who had visited to cheer him on during the shoot, watched this scene and thought, ‘Bongju, that friend has a fairytale-like side sometimes,’ but only the delicate sound of the piano remained in the studio.