PBI 04

Chapter 4

“I recommend Mr. Kim Doyoon.”

The words jolted me out of my daze. I had been staring blankly out the window, only to find a sly smile stretching across Gong Seok-hyeon’s face.

“Why don’t we use this opportunity to show what Eastman School of Music is really about? If parents hear a performance at a world-class level, their trust in the academy will skyrocket.”

“I… uh…”

“Kim Doyoon is a no.”

Director Kang Mi-ryeo’s tone was sharp enough to cut through the air.

“You saw his wrist the other day. It’s still not fully healed.”

“But if it’s a simple piece, he might be able to manage—”

“The annual recital is our academy’s biggest event. I’m sorry for Mr. Kim, but we can’t carry that kind of risk.”

Sorry, huh?
Of course—only my aunt could say that with such ease.

“I’ll assist him closely, Director.”

“I said no. Why do you keep pushing—”

Yoon A-young’s irritation seeped into her voice.

“Then how about you, Mr. Gong? Why don’t you perform this time?”

“M-me?”

“Parents tend to like performers from the Korea National University of Arts too, you know.”

That remark hit perfectly; I had to fight back a grin.
Director Kang caught the momentum and added her own strike.

“Good idea. Mr. Gong, you can handle it this time. Ms. Lim Soo-hye will assist you.”

“Why me?!”

“What do you mean, why? You two are always together anyway.”

Lim Soo-hye shot Gong Seok-hyeon a look sharp enough to slice him in half—why did you have to drag me into this mess?

You two keep this up and you’ll end up as a couple, I thought to myself.

Director Kang gathered her planner and stood.

“I’ve got an errand to run, so I’ll head out first. Mr. Gong, let me know when you pick your piece. Everyone else, finish your lessons and go home.”

“Good evening, Director!”

I bowed deeply, flashing my brightest smile.
Unfortunately, my timing betrayed me—my eyes met Gong Seok-hyeon’s.
Before he could start talking, I bolted upright.

“I’ve got lessons too! Excuse me!”

<004>

6 p.m., at the piano academy.

Gong Seok-hyeon stomped down the hallway, frustration written all over his face.
He had tried to dump the recital slot on me, and somehow ended up holding the bag himself.

“Maybe it’s not too late to change—”

“Yes, Doyoon is doing well, don’t worry.”

He froze mid-step.
Through a half-open classroom door, he saw Kang Mi-ryeo speaking on the phone, balancing the receiver between her shoulder and cheek as she organized sheet music.

“Today’s your brother-in-law’s memorial, right? I’ll come with Doyoon later.”

Gong blinked.

“Brother-in-law’s memorial…?”

She kept talking, unaware she had an audience.

“Have you thought about what I said? You should start wrapping up the snack shop, unni. You majored in piano when you were younger—why don’t we run the academy together?”

She suddenly turned her head, feeling eyes on her back.
After scanning the door, she hesitated, then continued.

“…Anyway, where was I?”

Gong’s pulse quickened. His thoughts spiraled.

“Wait. He went to Eastman?”

Eastman School of Music—where tuition alone cost more than sixty million won a year.

No kid from a small-town snack shop could get into that school—unless they were some kind of prodigy on a full scholarship.

“A parachute hire, huh? Let’s see how long you can keep that little secret.”

A crooked smile twisted his lips.

Days passed in a blur.

The academy was swamped with recital prep, and after hours I dove into wrist training.
Late at night, I would stumble out of the shower, collapse on my bed, and mutter:

“I’m dying… literally dying…”

Liszt’s Transcendental Études—a monster of a composition, feared even by the world’s best pianists.
To practice it daily was madness.

I had wanted to play piano to my heart’s content, yes—but not like this.

As I dozed off face-first on the bed, my eyes caught movement.
My right hand was pulling a towel from the drawer and rolling it up.

“What are you doing with that towel?”

【Pillow.】

It scrawled the word lazily on the bedsheet.
I frowned.

“Why would you need a pillow?”

【Neck hurts without one.】

“…You have a neck?”

【Wrist.】

I sighed. Technically, yes—a hand’s ‘neck’ would be a wrist.

I gave up trying to reason with it and shut my eyes.

“Lights off, please.”

With a click, the room fell into darkness.

“Go to sleep too. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”

Half-asleep murmurs slipped out, and I drifted into dreams.

Morning came too soon.

Beeeep!

The alarm blared, and I shot upright. As I reached for the bathroom, my right hand clutched the bed cover tightly.

【Five more minutes.】

“No way! Get up right now!”

I pried it loose with a groan and finally stumbled into the bathroom.

The day’s destination: the recital hall the academy had rented through the city’s cultural office.

Yoon A-young greeted me with a bright smile.

“You’re here!”

“You’re early.”

“Mr. Kim!”

Director Kang waved me over, holding a clipboard.
I quickly excused myself from Yoon and approached her.

“Mr. Kim, check the keyboard and lighting one more time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When So-eun arrives, make sure she’s in good shape. You know how her mother is.”

I nodded awkwardly.

Choi So-eun’s mother—Ko Ye-rim—had once been a famous pianist herself.
A prodigy who had retired early for marriage.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the pressure her daughter must live under.

Just as I turned to check the stage, Kang Mi-ryeo stopped me again.

“Oh, by the way—have you seen Mr. Gong?”

“Gong Seok-hyun? No, not yet…”

“He’s not answering his phone. Where the hell did he go…”

She raked her fingers through her hair and sighed in annoyance.

So-eun arrived as the piano tuning finished.

“Teacher.”

“You’re here, So-eun?”

She nodded nervously. Her anxiety was almost palpable.

“Where’s your mother?”

“She said she’ll come once the recital starts.”

“Alright. Let’s warm up a bit, then.”

We went to the waiting room, where I’d arranged to have an electric piano set up.

Her piece was Chopin’s “Black Keys Etude.”
A piece she’d rehearsed endlessly these past months.

She sat at the piano, pale and trembling.
Silence filled the room.

I didn’t rush her.

Finally, she spoke in a small voice.

“Mom said she’ll decide today.”

“Decide what?”

“Whether I have any talent for piano. If I mess up today… I might have to quit.”

I stared at her, stunned.
How could her mother dump that kind of pressure today, of all days?

Ko Ye-rim—her mother—was a prodigy, yes.
And in the arts, mediocrity is a curse.
She knew better than anyone how merciless this world could be to those without true talent.

Does So-eun have talent?
Even I didn’t know.
And not knowing… was itself an answer.

Geniuses always reveal themselves.
Just like my right hand—when it strangled Yoon A-young’s throat.

I forced a smile.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll help you.”

“Next, we have Choi So-eun performing Chopin’s Black Keys Etude. Please give her a warm round of applause.”

As Director Kang’s announcement echoed, applause filled the hall.

“Go on, So-eun.”

She swallowed hard and stepped onto the stage.
From the side curtain, I scanned the audience—and there she was.

Ko Ye-rim.
Her very posture radiated class and precision, her presence sharp enough to cut.
Even her stillness screamed: I am classical music.

Then, her eyes met mine.
I flinched and looked away.

Just as the performance began, Yoon A-young whispered urgently beside me.

“Mr. Kim! Have you seen Mr. Gong anywhere?”

“No, not yet. He’s still not here?”

He was supposed to play right after the students.
Yoon frowned, worry clouding her face.

“I’ll keep looking. Please help me find him after So-eun’s turn.”

“Got it.”

She hurried off.
At that moment—

Deng!
A jarring dissonance filled the hall.

“Oh no…”

I clutched my head.

A wrong note at the first bar—the worst possible start.
And this was Chopin’s Black Keys Etude, one of the most recognizable piano pieces on Earth.

Faces in the audience twisted in confusion.
Ko Ye-rim’s, especially, was unreadable—almost frightening.

“We’re doomed…”

Still, miraculously, So-eun steadied herself.
Her rhythm returned; her fingers danced again.
How she recovered that fast, I’ll never understand.

By the time the piece ended, her hands were trembling and her face was white as chalk, but she had finished it.
For that alone, she deserved praise.

As she stepped off stage, she spotted me—and burst into tears.

“S-soon, let’s go to the waiting room, okay?”

In the waiting room, she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Wh-what do I do now…? I saw Mom’s face out there—she’s going to make me quit!”

“It’s okay, So-eun. Everyone makes mistakes on stage. I’ll talk to your mom, alright?”

Would that comfort her? I wasn’t sure.
I was about to say more when the door flew open.

“Mr. Kim! There’s a problem!”

“What happened?”

Yoon A-young gestured frantically.

“Mr. Gong hurt his arm! They’re looking for someone to fill in!”

“What?!”

Perfect. Another disaster on top of disaster.

I stood at once.

“So-eun, I’ll be right back!”

Rushing backstage, I found the staff gathered—faces grim.
Director Kang was pressing her fingers to her forehead.

“Honestly… could you be any less careful?”

“I’m sorry, Director.”

“We need a volunteer. Anyone willing to perform?”

Her eyes scanned the teachers.

No one spoke.
No one in their right mind would step onstage unprepared.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice rose from the back.
Gong Seok-hyun—bandaged arm and all.

“Director… how about Mr. Kim Doyoon?”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief.

Did he forget to take his meds this morning?