Chapter 6
“I’ll start now.”
With that, he gently swept his fingers across the keys.
Glissando.
It felt like an old habit—an old-fashioned method of checking the piano’s condition. There was a sense of nostalgia in it.
It was like watching someone converse with their instrument.
As the descending glissando turned upward, Yoo Hyesung’s fingers halted at a certain point on the keyboard.
The first note was struck.
It became the seed of the harmony that would follow. Like a loom weaving thread, his right hand began crafting a melody.
And from that free-flowing development, everyone realized—
Yoo Hyesung was improvising.
“…This is…”
Kim Gisik PD’s murmur hung in the air.
His gaze was fixed on the elegant dance of fingers across the keys.
“Improvisation…?”
Choi Gukhwan nodded slowly, gravely.
In his 40 years of watching countless musicians, he had never seen anything like this.
Sure, many performers added their own flair to cadenzas. But this—this was different. A fully structured improvised sonata was being born in real time.
“Wow, seriously…”
“How is this even possible?”
“Is this for real…?”
The staff watched in awe and reverence.
It was the first time anything like this had happened on The Classic.
“That child… and he’s not even a pianist yet…”
A deep sense of admiration appeared in Choi Gukhwan’s eyes.
Modern classical musicians don’t improvise. Not because they can’t—but because they dare not.
True improvisation requires immense skill, sensitivity, and a deep understanding of musical language patterns.
Especially at the level Hyesung was displaying—this was practically impossible.
Each harmony followed a complex contrapuntal structure. The melody was composed as meticulously as a movement of a symphony.
“I thought things like this were extinct in modern times…”
What Choi Gukhwan meant by “things like this” was true improvisation.
Not just rearranging existing pieces—but composing entirely new music in real-time.
And doing so with the structural integrity of a sonata.
The performance deepened. The once spring breeze-like melody turned into a storm. Both hands now moved furiously, the harmonies more intricate than ever.
Eventually, a raging tempest swept through the studio.
“……”
“……”
No one could speak.
Not even Choi Gukhwan.
Having spent 40 years in the classical world, he could hear it—the musical dialect resembled Liszt’s.
The harmonic progression, the way the melody was shaped, even the technical prowess…
“It’s like seeing Liszt before my eyes.”
“……!”
Kim Gisik PD flinched at those words.
He took pride in having Choi Gukhwan, chief conductor of the KBC Symphony Orchestra, serve as an advisor to The Classic.
Their shared network under the KBC umbrella made that possible.
‘If even Mr. Choi is saying this much…’
Then it was real.
He had already briefed Choi beforehand that this wasn’t just a rehearsal. Depending on the outcome, Yoo Hyesung’s screentime would vary.
More specifically, he had said:
“The Franz Liszt Special will be a two-part feature. But we haven’t decided yet if you’ll appear in the second episode.”
“The planning for episode two isn’t finalized yet, so the direction isn’t clear.”
“It’ll probably be decided in an upcoming meeting.”
All of that was technically true.
‘We were going to base that meeting on what happens here today…’
As a PD, Kim couldn’t judge based on a YouTube clip alone. If Choi Gukhwan gave a positive response, Hyesung would likely be added to episode two.
“I imagine you had a certain picture in your head. Pianist Ji Jaewon kindly mentoring a prodigy.”
“…Yes, that’s right.”
“You still holding onto that picture?”
Kim Gisik let out a long sigh.
“You’re probably getting a headache now, thinking you’ll have to tear up that entire image. Fair enough. So, what now?”
“I think the answer’s clear.”
“You mean he’ll appear in episode two?”
“No. I mean… beyond that.”
Ji Jaewon, the first Korean to win the Franz Liszt International Competition.
He had been the featured guest of this special.
But now—
“I think Hyesung should also be listed as a main performer.”
That’s what they decided.
That’s what they had to do.
“Yes, that’s the obvious choice.”
Choi Gukhwan agreed.
Meanwhile…
The Franz Liszt International Piano Competition—a prestigious contest held every four years in Utrecht, Netherlands.
Recently, pianist Ji Jaewon had claimed victory there, and he’d been busy ever since.
“How does it feel to breathe Korean air again?” asked his manager, glancing into the rearview mirror.
Jaewon, who had recently returned home, was on his way back from a gala concert in Korea.
“It’s nice being home, but I still can’t relax here either…”
“Well, you’ve earned a new title—‘Korea’s Franz Liszt.’”
“True.”
Jaewon smirked.
“They’re really calling you that in the press. You must be proud?”
He puffed up his chest unconsciously—an involuntary gesture.
He had pride in how well he could interpret Liszt’s works.
“By the way, you know you’ve got a The Classic shoot next Friday, right? The Liszt special.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Jaewon had assumed the special would basically revolve around him.
But then—
“Oh, and apparently there’s another main performer besides you. Someone named Yoo Hyesung.”
…What?
A name he had never even heard of.
“Yoo Hyesung? Who’s that?”
“Not a professional pianist. Just a 16-year-old. Went viral on YouTube for playing Liszt.”
“Ahh.”
“Looks like the special will follow a mentor-student dynamic between you two. The setup’s pretty good, huh?”
That didn’t sound bad.
Jaewon accepted it positively.
“Any awards?”
“Won some youth competitions here and there. Mostly second place, though.”
Seriously?
He scoffed in disbelief.
“But apparently the kid plays really well. The writer couldn’t stop raving.”
“Sure, sure.”
“She even sent me the YouTube link, said I must watch it. Haven’t gotten around to it myself.”
“Look, I know you want to keep chatting, but can you just drive? We’re being passed by people on electric scooters.”
They were crawling along a residential area.
“Well, you should still watch it. I’ll send you the link later.”
The manager shouted that from the car window as Jaewon got out.
He ignored it and waved without turning around.
Beep-beep-beep—
He entered the passcode and stepped into his house.
He was about to collapse onto the couch when—
‘Ah, right.’
He turned on his speaker system.
A Liszt track began playing—his own recording.
‘The critics said it—this must be how Liszt played in his time.’
As he reflected on those words, he melted deeper into the couch.
Then a new thought occurred.
‘…But what if it’s not? What if Liszt played differently?’
Modern people, unfortunately, would never know.
Liszt lived until 1886, and the phonograph was invented in 1887—just one year too late.
So, there were no recordings of his actual performances.
‘Did I really play just like him?’
He wanted to know.
He desperately wanted to hear it.
Even if it meant time traveling.
A wave of frustration hit him just as his phone buzzed.
Two YouTube links.
[Manager: Yo Jaewon, HOLY $#@!]
And dozens more texts after that.
Was his manager always this fast at typing?
Apparently, he was fangirling now like the scriptwriter.
‘God, I’m too tired for this…’
He tapped the thumbnail of the video:
[REAL MOM REACTION TO HER SON’S GENIUS PIANO SKILLS LOLLLLLL]
“…Are you kidding me?”
He thought it’d be something from a concert hall.
Without hesitation, he hit the back button.
‘Still… kinda cute though.’
He grinned and sent a reply:
[Yeah, definitely talented.]
[Can’t wait for next week ^^]
Then he tossed the phone aside and returned to his thoughts.
He wanted to hear it.
Liszt’s real performance…
Virtuoso.
A title for a performer who dazzles.
Even after earning that title, I never slacked off.
Playing music was always a joy.
Hearing the crowd cheer—an even greater joy.
So to me, practice wasn’t a chore. It was pleasure.
And that still holds true for me, Yoo Hyesung, today.
It was early evening—I was heading to the studio to practice.
As I bent down to put on my shoes—
“Oh? I just got an email—Hyesung, your segment’s huge!”
“Where? Let me see. Is it a script?”
“This isn’t a drama. It’s just a shooting outline. Look here.”
“Says you’re confirmed for episode two, and you’ll keep filming with Ji Jaewon. I thought they only brought you on as a one-time guest.”
Nice.
That was my exact concern.
It would’ve been ironic to only appear in episode one of a special that had my name on it.
With a grin, I stepped outside.
“I’m heading out!”
The door closed behind me.
My mom’s voice followed.
“Don’t come back too late! It’s dangerous at night!”
Then my dad’s.
“Tell your uncle to escort you. He’s lounging around at home anyway.”
Then my uncle, exasperated—
“…I already said I’d walk her. Hyesung said she was fine. Ugh, nobody listens.”
“She listens at times like this.”
“Geez…”
The front door opened.
My uncle popped his head out.
“Hyesung, want me to take you? You’re 16, not a little kid—but you just got out of the hospital, right? Still recovering.”
Who says I’m weak?
“I’m fine. You should focus on your job search.”
“……”
“See ya later.”
“Hey! Don’t gang up on me like this!”
The studio was about five minutes away.
Click—
Lights flicked on in the empty building.
It was the perfect place to practice.
Soundproof, so I could play as late as I wanted without worry.
As I loosened up my fingers, I thought:
“Tomorrow.”
The special shoot was tomorrow.
And the pieces I’d perform were:
Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and Transcendental Étude No. 8, “Wilde Jagd” (The Hunt).
The first was Jaewon’s pick.
The second was mine.
Of course, I didn’t need to look at or memorize the sheet music.
Because I had composed them.
And with my past-life memories fully intact, I even remembered the exact moments I’d written them.
My hands rose to the keys.
Warm-ups were done.
I began playing the two pieces back-to-back.
Once wasn’t enough.
Twice. Thrice. Four times…
Eventually, I lost count.
That was when it happened.
In a room filled with just two songs, another melody rang out.
A ringtone.
Only then did I realize how much time had passed.
“Ah, right…”
A worried voice asked if I knew what time it was.
The hour hand had definitely moved far.
“Yeah… I should head back.”
I was ready now.
Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.
And—
“Tomorrow’s the shoot.”
It’s time to hunt.
