Chapter 62….
The Little Concert
Chairman Choi walked toward Won-uk, who hadn’t even managed a few steps toward the back of the auditorium before collapsing to the floor in tears.
In a sorrowful voice, he spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
At some point, Chairman Choi had realized it.
The reason he had pushed his son, Jeong-hoo, so hard.
It was, in a way, vicarious satisfaction.
A selfish desire to see in his grandson the warm smile from a father he himself had never received.
It was also a need for recognition.
He tried to make up for always being strict with his own son by pouring affection onto his grandson, Jeong-hoo.
Because he was his son’s son.
And now, as an old man, he regretted it.
He regretted not having treated his child with more warmth.
That regret made him smile at his grandson with a tinge of guilt.
It had been a gesture of reconciliation.
That was why he had never stopped Won-uk when he scolded his son.
But at this moment, he regretted it again—knowing it had been wrong.
Chairman Choi knelt down and awkwardly embraced his sobbing son.
Both father and son looked awkward in the embrace.
As if it were the first time they had ever held each other.
Holding his son Won-uk, Chairman Choi spoke with sincerity.
“I’m sorry.”
At that moment, the sound of the piano rang out again.
It wasn’t My Way, nor The Red Sunset.
Ding ding, dong dong, ding ding dong~ ding ding…
A melody tapped out firmly, one finger at a time, like a child pressing keys for the first time.
It was “The School Bell Rings.”
Won-uk lifted his head at the sound, his tear-streaked face twisting.
“The first time…
…I sat little Jeong-hoo on my lap and taught him, it was this song.”
“I see.”
“Father, what have I done?”
With a broken expression, Won-uk looked to Chairman Choi.
“It’s not your fault.”
“…It is my fault.”
“No, it’s mine. Ours. Because we both cowardly used the child as a shield to avoid talking to each other.”
Tears streamed down Chairman Choi’s face as well.
The short melody came to an end.
“…I’ll wait.”
Having finished playing, Su-han finally rose from the chair and walked toward the father and son.
There was no awkward forced smile this time.
Instead, a gentle, natural smile curved on Su-han’s lips.
He spread his arms and embraced both men, still clinging stiffly to each other.
“Jeong-hoo…”
“Jeong-hoo?”
Until now they had seen Jeong-hoo through Su-han’s form, but at this moment—it truly was Jeong-hoo.
As if pastel-colored light dust had settled over him, Su-han’s figure blurred and Jeong-hoo’s appeared.
And Jeong-hoo spoke.
[I liked the piano.]
“Jeong-hoo…”
Won-uk’s face crumpled.
[When you first taught me how to play, Dad, I thought, ‘So this is how music can bring joy to people.’]
“I see… so that’s how you felt.”
[Grandpa liked it too. That’s why I felt bad for Dad. So I practiced The Red Sunset, the song Grandpa said was your favorite.]
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Won-uk clutched his son’s back tightly, spitting out his regret.
[The day you caught me, I was so upset. I just wanted to give you a surprise gift. But instead I got scolded, and it was hard. Still, I kept trying. Because when I worked hard, Dad, you looked proud, and Grandpa smiled at you with pride.]
As Jeong-hoo’s words flowed, the three clung to each other even tighter, as if they would never let go.
[But maybe I didn’t like it after all. Chopin, Mozart… those pieces only made us happy because others recognized us. Not because we truly loved the melody. At least that’s how it looked in our family. But Dad—]
“Yes…”
[I didn’t leave because I resented you.]
Won-uk’s eyes trembled. He had been ready to accept any accusation.
[It’s just… my body was weak. That’s why I couldn’t hold on. It wasn’t because you forced me too hard. But still…]
Jeong-hoo turned to glance at the piano, then back at his father and grandfather.
[I wanted to play for both of you—the song you loved so much. Before I died, I imagined this moment. I thought it would make me so happy.]
“Ahh… ahh…”
Won-uk sobbed, choking on his own breath, unable to speak.
Jeong-hoo hugged him tightly and whispered.
[That’s why I’m happy now.]
“This is… the best day. Like my birthday.”
[Grandpa, you know how much Dad loves you, right?]
“I know.”
[Please, smile a lot in my place.]
“…I will.”
Chairman Choi forced a bright smile through his tears.
“Ahh… ahh…”
Won-uk convulsed with sobs like a man struck mute.
Jeong-hoo leaned in close to whisper one last time.
[I love you, Dad.]
In that moment, Won-uk embraced both his son and his father even tighter, as if to keep them from leaving.
And pastel-colored light spread gently over them—then faded away.
