Chapter 98 – D-Day (4)

“I’m sorry, but can you still change the piece you’ll play at the charity concert? Without telling your mother.”

“What?”

The day after the sports festival, when So-yul had decided to stand up to her mother.

When I made this suggestion to So-yul during our usual meeting at the path bench, she responded with startled surprise.

“Ch-change the piece? And hide it from my mom?”

“No, I don’t mean you absolutely have to change it. I was just wondering if it might be possible.”

No matter how much we talked about counterattacks, showcasing her true abilities had to be the priority.

If my suggestion caused So-yul to make mistakes, it would end up doing more harm than good.

So-yul fell into thought for a moment, then:

“Hmm. There’s still a month left, and if it’s not too difficult a piece, it wouldn’t be completely impossible…”

Her eventual answer was neither yes nor no. If anything, it indicated possibility.

“But why so suddenly?”

So-yul tilted her head with a puzzled expression.

Of course, it would be bewildering for her boyfriend, who knew nothing about piano or even piano pieces, to suddenly suggest changing the music.

There was only one way to explain.

I took out my phone and opened a bookmarked page, then handed it to So-yul. She looked at the screen, blinking repeatedly in confusion.

Then:

“Th-this is…!”

She covered her mouth in surprise and looked at me with trembling eyes.

It was understandable.

A photo of a high school violinist who looked exactly like her mother. And a judge’s evaluation of an unknown pianist with the same name as her biological father.

This was too coincidental to be mere chance. The connecting lines between the dots were clearly visible. Indeed, it seemed So-yul had also realized this immediately.

“After you told me your father’s name last time, I searched for it. I thought a concours would be the most likely place for your parents to have met. When I searched that way, this page came up right away.”

Looking back, it was an incredible coincidence.

Or perhaps a miracle sent from heaven.

“…I see.”

So-yul answered while fidgeting with her trembling lips.

Though her feelings must be complicated now, these were still her birth parents. If this concours was the starting point that connected the two, it would also be the reason she came into the world. It must evoke special emotions for her.

I patted her back lightly and continued:

“So I was thinking… what if you performed the assigned piece from this concours at the charity concert?”

“The assigned piece?”

I nodded slightly at her question.

“I’m not certain, but I think this concours might be where your parents developed an interest in each other. Even if not, they must have encountered each other at some point, whether before or after. Your mother would at least remember it.”

So.

Looking at So-yul with a serious face:

“If you play this piece… I think it could at least shake your mother’s heart.”

That prediction had been exactly right.

Right now, So-yul’s mother was glaring intensely at So-yul with quivering eyelids.

Of course, such a gaze couldn’t reach So-yul, who had begun her performance and was already immersed in the piece.

This seemed to infuriate her even more, as So-yul’s mother was trembling with her lips tightly bitten.

To see So-yul’s mother, who always manipulated her daughter by maintaining control, show such a reaction.

Regardless of the final outcome, we had succeeded in getting one step ahead. A snicker escaped me at this satisfying sensation. It already felt like victory.

This was exactly why today’s performance had become “our counterattack” rather than just “So-yul’s counterattack.”

After hearing my explanation, So-yul immediately accepted my suggestion.

She burned with determination, vowing to succeed and give her mother a taste of her own medicine.

And from the next day onward, So-yul truly devoted herself to practice without a moment’s rest.

In a situation where she had to keep it hidden until the day of the performance, I heard she continued practicing her originally planned piece in front of her mother. She also didn’t forget to follow instructions to “play with restraint, without unnecessary body movements.”

So her mother would have had no way to predict that she would be blindsided like this at the actual performance.

Thanks to this, we had clearly succeeded in stirring So-yul’s mother’s emotions.

But we still had a long way to go.

So-yul’s performance had only just begun.

So-yul had told me this piece was composed around the theme of “love.”

Though love takes many different forms, inside it always holds poignant and warm flutters.

That was why the introduction of this piece was composed with such an infinitely soft and delicate atmosphere.

So-yul brought out each note gently yet clearly, matching the calm melody.

As her pretty fingertips glided through the air like a dance, pleasant sounds reverberated throughout the spacious auditorium.

The rhythm she wove from these sounds conveyed truly loving sensations.

As the performance continued, So-yul kept mumbling something as if reciting.

Her half-closed eyes seemed to be gazing longingly at someone invisible.

The faint blush on her face, blooming with a smile, clearly showed how immersed she was.

“…Seriously.”

So-yul’s mother was staring at So-yul with deeply furrowed brows and trembling eyebrows.

She didn’t care about the sidelong glances from nearby audience members, and was even taking rough breaths.

Meanwhile…

“…Wow.”

I turned my gaze toward a voice that erupted from somewhere in the audience.

Children in the front rows, who had been tired from boredom, were gradually opening their eyes.

With widened eyes, as if finding it fascinating, they began to focus more and more on So-yul’s performance on stage.

This meant that So-yul’s playing was on such a different level that even young children could sense it.

“When I grow up, I want to marry that big sister,” one particularly irreverent kid said.

Sorry, but that big sister is mine. Don’t even dream of trying anything.

After a while, So-yul’s gentle performance gradually gained power.

This was a signal that the piece was entering its middle section.

If the introduction was like a gentle caressing touch, from here on it felt like a lover walking steadily toward me.

Where innocence had disappeared, a ticklish sensation filled in. There also seemed to be a slightly playful feeling.

In some ways, it resembled my relationship with So-yul.

During practice, So-yul had joked, “Have we become too used to each other and lost that flutter?”

To which I replied, “It’s probably become an essential part of our daily lives.”

So-yul’s performance right now gave exactly that feeling.

Because it made me vividly recall the path So-yul and I had walked together.

A performance that gathered all sorts of emotions and crossed over to reach the audience.

A melody that made you think of the most important person in your heart.

A tune so poignant it could revive bittersweet memories that didn’t even exist.

Perhaps finding it difficult to put so much care into each note, So-yul had her eyes slightly furrowed.

She appeared to be steadying her breath through her slightly open pinkish lips.

The way she swayed her upper body while immersed in the performance certainly looked somewhat overwhelming.

But it was precisely this kind of performance that stimulated the emotional line.

“…Wow, they said she was famous, and she really does play well.”

Indeed, I overheard a nearby audience member muttering.

Even the distinguished guests, who likely had years of experience in this field, were now watching So-yul without taking their eyes off her.

Not to mention the young children who had been staring with gaping mouths since earlier.

The ability to make everyone an equal audience member, regardless of their musical knowledge—this, I thought, was So-yul’s greatest strength and advantage.

There was just one exception: So-yul’s mother.

So-yul’s mother appeared even more furious than before.

Now she was grinding her molars and trembling with anger.

I worried she might suddenly stand up and interrupt the performance, but… surely she wouldn’t be so thoughtless about the consequences.

In any case, there wasn’t much time left until the piece ended.

The climax would come soon.

But this also meant… that problematic section was approaching.

Last weekend, So-yul had repeatedly stopped playing in the latter part.

Just as the music was building to a climax, she would stop because she wasn’t satisfied with her performance. She would hang her head low, not knowing what to do.

There was no guarantee the same thing wouldn’t happen during the actual performance.

And if she made a mistake in the real thing, there would be no second chance.

Both So-yul’s dream and our counterattack would come to nothing.

I fervently hoped she would succeed brilliantly.

As I kept praying inwardly, the piece finally entered its climax.

The atmosphere changed dramatically and the tempo quickened.

The performance gained power, and So-yul’s movements grew larger.

So-yul was in a state that could rightfully be called a trance.

She appeared to be concentrating all her nerves on expressing every note and rest written in the score.

The way she freely extended her hands and moved her fingers created an illusion that someone else’s soul had taken residence in her.

‘Just as growing love eventually becomes impossible to contain. Just as it makes you act recklessly, without considering consequences or the future. I think of this part as raising emotions and pouring everything out.’

So-yul had told me this during practice.

It was truly as she said.

With each press of a key, the expressions of the audience slowly changed. Their faces were transforming moment by moment.

So-yul’s performance had this way of pulling in the psychology of those watching.

Then So-yul’s arms began to move along a great arc.

Raising the scale from the bottom, gradually elevating the notes like a roller coaster.

As if trying to explode the increasingly boiling emotions, the performance soared toward the peak.

The final part of the piece—the most important highlight, requiring exceptional technique.

The section where So-yul had given up playing during practice because she couldn’t cross her self-imposed border.

If she could just get past this part…

As I watched So-yul with a mix of anticipation and concern:

Finally, her performance flowed into the last difficult section.

As if ultimately bursting with all emotions, her playing continued as if possessed.

Despite becoming rougher than before, the rhythm still maintained definite control of dynamics.

The melody that suddenly exploded the emotion that had been boiling from within.

So-yul had finally conquered the final hurdle perfectly.

My breathing unconsciously quickened with overwhelming feelings.

My eyes grew moist and my chest felt burning hot.

Even though I had watched this performance dozens of times, this point was utterly impossible to bear.

“Wow… that’s excellent.”

I listened to a whispered voice from somewhere in the audience.

Looking back, I saw a man in the VIP seats whispering with a face wrapped in ecstasy.

His companion also nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Her expressiveness is remarkable for a high school student.”

“Sometimes you see kids who emphasize expression so much they ruin the performance. But this girl’s skill is flawless.”

“That’s right…”

The two audience members agreeing with each other in admiring tones.

I felt prouder than if I had received the praise myself, my shoulders rising involuntarily.

And so the sounds that had reached their climax began to fade out one by one.

The forcefully struck keys once again transformed into careful, gentle touches.

And finally, So-yul’s fingers came to a rest on the keyboard.

Her arms that had been moving like a dance, her sorrowful, desperate expression—all gradually subsided.

So-yul’s performance, which she had prepared meticulously for a long time… had finally been successfully completed.

Inside the auditorium where the piano sound had disappeared, only silence flowed.

The hundreds of audience members sitting in their seats were all frozen, not making a sound.

This doesn’t mean they showed no reaction.

The very act of being quietly frozen was a tribute to So-yul’s performance.

A concert hall where everyone holds their breath watching the performer even after the performance ends.

It was a spectacle that could rightly be called magnificent.

—Clap, clap, clap.

In that profound silence, someone’s applause rang out.

One person grew to two.

Two quickly grew to ten.

Ten spread instantly to everyone.

Eventually, everyone in the auditorium was giving So-yul a standing ovation.

Adults and children alike. Our school students, and even the distinguished guests who had been sitting so formally. All of them, as if they had made a promise.

She had displayed such excellent skill that even young children who had been dozing from boredom watched her.

She hadn’t made a single mistake that would make the eyebrows of the experts in the VIP seats twitch.

Could there be another pianist this excellent in the world?

So-yul’s performance was truly perfect, enough to make such thoughts arise.

Amid the thunderous applause, So-yul sat with her eyes closed.

She appeared to be taking deep breaths with both hands placed on her rising and falling chest.

Was she suppressing overwhelming emotions? Or perhaps managing belated nervousness.

I wanted to run to So-yul right now and tell her how amazing she was.

The only thing I could do was to applaud with all my might, hoping my feelings would reach her.

So-yul then opened her eyes and slowly rose from her seat.

The face with a light smile was completely different from when she had been playing the piano.

Her usual expression with a hint of mischief confirmed she was indeed my girlfriend.

Finally, So-yul bowed deeply, then began to look around the entire audience.

As if not wanting to miss the encouragement of each person. As if wanting to engrave this emotion in her heart.

Then our eyes suddenly met.

I wasn’t imagining the bright smile she gave me.

And of course… her gaze also directly collided with her mother’s.

So-yul’s mother was still biting her lips in anger.

She had been so displeased throughout the performance that she had wrinkled all her clothes.

Her glare was so fierce that it was like nothing I’d ever seen before, enough to make my skin burn.

Yet So-yul simply smiled without the slightest change in her expression.

Her face, filled with strong will, looked remarkably resolute and powerful.

It was a scene I’d seen somewhere before.

It didn’t take long to recall.

It was clearly… the exact opposite situation from the arts festival.