Chapter 004
Kim Kisik, the producer, pressed the play button.
“….”
And from the very first moment, it was clear.
This wasn’t just some candid camera prank.
It started with simple scale practice.
‘Whoa.’
The keystrokes were fast yet precise.
Despite the overlapping motion blur, each finger moved with deliberate technique.
Not mindless repetition, but finely detailed attention to every note.
Even before finishing the ascending and descending runs, the player casually slipped in a charming little ad-lib.
The producer, curious, pushed his glasses up.
Even though the footage was shot from outside the room, the keystrokes were so accurate that the sound came through clearly.
‘See? I knew you’d react like this.’
But the scales were just an appetizer.
The writer eagerly anticipated what was coming next.
Because—
“…Who the hell is this kid?”
Now that Mazeppa had begun playing—
“You see what I mean, right…?”
“Let’s talk after.”
Producer Kim Kisik nearly ripped off his glasses in astonishment.
He’d been planning a special feature on Franz Liszt, and frankly, this was unbelievable.
“And watch this one too.”
Since the latter half was mostly the mother’s reaction video, the writer tapped the tablet to change the clip.
The new video was from a street performance on Nodeul Island.
“Should I skip the beginning?”
“No, let’s watch it all.”
Even though it was the same Mazeppa, the producer didn’t skip a second—he was completely drawn in.
Because on the second viewing, he began to see things he’d missed the first time.
And then came one more detail—
[No encore?]
The boy, standing calmly in front of a huge crowd, didn’t look nervous at all. If anything, he looked relaxed.
‘Look at this kid…’
He clearly knew how to capture an audience.
In other words—stage presence.
As a TV producer, Kim had an eye for that.
[Hm, it’s snowing.]
[We’ll have to clear it, then.]
With those words, the second performance began.
Franz Liszt, Transcendental Étude No. 12.
Chasse-Neige — “Snow Plow”.
“…Wait, hold on.”
Even though he didn’t finish his sentence, the writer already knew.
“Yes, I know.”
He got goosebumps during that moment too.
“That was an impromptu performance inspired by the snowfall. Could’ve been staged, sure, but there was no snow in the forecast that day.”
“…He even has star power?”
A determined look appeared in Kim Kisik’s eyes.
“Let’s get him for the special—alongside pianist Ji Jaewon.”
“!”
<THE CLASSIC> had always featured professional musicians.
The show promised to turn your screen into a concert hall.
To deliver only verified, top-tier performances to its viewers.
“C-Contact him?”
And now, for the first time ever, they were considering someone without a professional title.
The writer was understandably shaken.
“Your mouth’s wide open.”
“Well, I didn’t expect it. Honestly, you’ve always been pretty conservative about this.”
“Me?”
“So you’re suggesting he be a guest, right? Ji Jaewon’s the main feature?”
“Maybe. But first…”
After a brief pause, Kim continued.
“We need proper verification. Judging him based on YouTube clips isn’t enough.”
Then, reclining in his chair, he smiled meaningfully.
“Depending on how that verification goes, we’ll decide how much to film.”
“Yes, yes.”
In the living room, his mother was on the phone.
Then, her eyes widened.
“A meeting with Ji Jaewon, the pianist who just won the Liszt International Competition?”
Oh. Even I was a little surprised.
Liszt International Competition.
I knew there was a competition named in my honor.
But meeting someone who had actually won it?
That was interesting.
A setting where only my compositions were played and evaluated.
The Liszt International Competition.
Not every piece is easy to play…
Even Robert Schumann once said my music could only be truly performed by me.
That’s why I felt proud—and curious.
Could the recent winner of that competition truly do justice to my music?
Just how skilled were they?
I wanted to find out for myself.
“Hmm, we’re about to have dinner, so I’ll ask Hyesung about it then.”
My mom hung up after giving me a “You heard that, right?” look.
“Hey Hyesung, come eat!”
“What’s for dinner?”
“You’re not really in a position to be picky.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Dinner began.
Tonight’s menu: braised short ribs, cooked by Dad.
Each plate had a huge pile of meat—maybe a little too much.
It felt… intentional.
Maybe it had something to do with the sudden boom in piano students.
Dad’s next words confirmed it.
“Our Hyesung really is… the lucky charm of this house.”
“What about me, brother-in-law?”
“You’re a walking disaster.”
“……”
Ah, right.
I had something to ask.
I looked at Mom.
“How’s the revenue from my performance videos doing?”
My uncle, who had access to the linked account, grinned knowingly.
“Oh, right.”
Mom started pulling something from her pocket—a white envelope.
“I was going to give this to you anyway. Since you asked, I’ll give it now. Normally YouTube pays out the following month, but I withdrew this early to commemorate it.”
No wonder the envelope was thick.
“You earned this with your own talent, so you should be the one to use it.”
What a sound educational philosophy.
“But don’t go spending it all recklessly, okay?”
“Hyesung, you know how much I helped film everything, right? Not that I want anything. Definitely don’t give me anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
I handed the envelope straight to my dad, Yoo Bongjae.
“Here.”
“Huh? …To me?”
Caught off guard, he accepted it reflexively.
“…Wait, did you post those YouTube videos just to make money and give it to me?”
“That’s not the only reason, but yeah, it’s part of it.”
I met his eyes.
“You took care of me while I was in a coma—even put your business on hold to do it.”
And what about my first father, Adam Liszt?
Would he have just accepted such care as his due?
But my second father just stared at me.
“……”
I couldn’t read his expression.
As our eye contact lingered—
“Haa…”
With a deep sigh, my father abruptly stood up, as if overwhelmed.
He silently walked into his room, leaving the envelope on the table.
Did I hurt his pride?
I hadn’t considered that.
“Sigh…”
Mom let out a sigh.
“He’s not mad. He’s just emotional. Overwhelmed, that’s all.”
She gently patted my back.
“Your dad isn’t working right now, so getting this kind of gesture from you… of course he’d get choked up.”
Mom seemed to understand what I couldn’t.
“…Geez, brother-in-law. You should’ve just said thank you. Total feeler. Classic F type.”
The atmosphere sank slightly.
Everyone kept eating in silence.
Then Mom snapped her fingers.
“Oh right, I should’ve said this earlier.”
“Go ahead.”
“Hmm?”
“About the show. The one with the Liszt Competition winner.”
I responded instantly.
I’d been looking forward to it since earlier.
“…Huh?”
My uncle, mid-bite, looked over with wide eyes.
His face when Mom gave him the rundown was priceless.
“…Wait, you’re going to be on The Classic? That’s where world-class performers go!”
Is it?
I wouldn’t know, after spending so long in the hospital.
“If it were me, I’d be trembling like crazy. Aren’t you nervous?”
“About what?”
“You’re really not nervous?”
“Hmm, not really.”
Should I pretend to be?
Not even at sponsored salons.
Not at concerts packed with nobles.
Not even when I met Beethoven and he kissed my forehead.
Not when performing before kings.
And now—nervous, for a TV broadcast?
I guess it’s a bit different.
But to me, it all feels the same.
Once I sit at the piano and start playing, the world always falls quiet.
That’s all I’m aware of.
“So, will Ji Jaewon be coaching you on camera?”
Ooh, that’s hilarious.
“…Why are you laughing to yourself again? If it’s funny, share it.”
I burst out laughing before I realized.
Not mockingly—genuinely.
Maybe if it were someone else’s piece…
But this episode was about none other than Franz Liszt.
Only my music would be played on the show.
And being taught how to play my own music?
Now that’s comedy.
Creeeeak—
Suddenly, the door groaned open.
Dad returned.
“Hyesung.”
He seemed to have calmed down and sat beside me.
But… why did his hand casually rest on the envelope?
“I was just in the room thinking of content that could go viral on YouTube.”
“……”
“Next time, let’s surprise your grandma. Like, watching her piano prodigy grandson perform live.”
“……”
“I’ve got other ideas too, like—”
WHACK!
A loud slap to the back of his head.
“Hey! Come here. Don’t even try to run!”
“…Why Mom though?!”
Clatter—
Suddenly, a chase broke out.
Dad circled the table. Mom followed, spoon in hand.
It was quite the sight.
Huh.
Then, my nose started to run.
I wiped it with my sleeve.
…Oh.
It wasn’t mucus.
It was red.
Blood.
Seriously. Again?
So fragile, this body.
“Thanks for the meal.”
I decided to handle it quietly.
Grabbed a few tissues and went to my room.
“Welcome~”
Yoo Bongjae greeted the producer and staff.
They had come to conduct a pre-interview before the official evaluation.
Of course, only the production team knew about the evaluation.
To the Yoo family, they’d simply said it was a casual meet-and-greet.
‘No need to mention the evaluation. Might stress him out for no reason.’
Bongjae brought out refreshments.
“Oh, I just called—Hyesung’s almost here.”
“Haha, we arrived a bit early.”
“My wife runs a piano academy. He was practicing there.”
Kim Kisik was secretly impressed.
He already knew about the academy—it had uploaded the videos.
But he didn’t expect the boy to be practicing right up to the interview.
Just then, the front door opened.
Yoo Hyesung walked in.
“Hello.”
Wow.
His skin was porcelain white.
The videos didn’t show it clearly, but up close, it looked like he was dusted with snowflakes.
And his face—he was absurdly handsome.
‘…He’s ridiculously good-looking up close.’
‘How does all that fit in such a tiny face?’
‘He even carries this elegant, noble aura.’
He looked like he belonged to another world.
His father was handsome too, but the boy had something more—something hard to define.
“Well then.”
Kim Kisik resumed the process.
The interview was set in the living room, and the cameras were now in place.
After a brief greeting and introduction—
“Let’s watch a video together.”
They were going to record Hyesung’s reaction to Ji Jaewon’s performance.
“This one had the most views in the Liszt Competition. The pianist is, of course, the winner—Ji Jaewon.”
The piece was Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.
The staff hit play on the tablet.
“Let’s take a look!”
On screen, Ji Jaewon took a breath at the piano.
Then, the music began.
Yoo Hyesung stared at the screen.
The crew stared at Yoo Hyesung.
‘He’s never seen this before, right? He’s definitely going to be amazed.’
‘We have to capture this reaction.’
Reactions mattered on TV.
Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 starts calmly with the Lassan section, then explodes in the Friska section.
And now, the highlight approached.
Ji Jaewon’s dazzling technique in the Friska.
Syncopation and dissonance built up.
Faster, louder, higher—
And then—
“Oh.”
For the first time, Yoo Hyesung spoke.
Right on cue.
‘Now then—what will he say next?’
Everyone’s eyes were glued to him.
