A Musical Genius Who Plays Memories - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 10. In an Unknown Land (5)

The two hands placed on the keys barely moved.

I was lost in thought about what memories I should use to play the keys.

Still, since I had to perform, I slowly moved my hands.

White keys and black keys brushed past my fingers.

Since I didn’t know what song to play, this was an act to find what my hands wanted to play.

‘Back then, if nothing came to mind, I would ask people around me.’

Anyway, the people around me were only my friend and his wife Lucie.

Oh, there was also cute Danika.

In any case, besides my friend’s family, there were a few more people, but most of the time I played piano alone.

I slightly turned my eyes and glanced sideways at Jeong Mi-rae.

Looking at Jeong Mi-rae somehow made my wrist ache too.

I don’t know about others, but I didn’t speak of pain.

That’s how it had always been.

Long ago, when I injured my wrist, I didn’t tell people about it.

Not even my friend.

I was afraid that if that person who had betrayed me found out my wrist hurt, he would kick me out.

I was scared that the opportunity I had barely grasped would scatter like sand before it could even bloom.

However, as time passed, the roots of pain growing in my wrist became thicker and thicker.

They grew between muscles, gnawing at my bones.

I was defeated by the pain.

‘My friend saw my swollen wrist and told me to rest. Fortunately, that person was away traveling then.’

I rested diligently during the short time given to me.

Was it thanks to resting so diligently?

It was fortunate that I was able to play piano for a long time after that.

“Heeseong, what’s wrong?”

As I was lost in my own thoughts, Jeong Mi-rae spoke to me.

I turned my head completely to look at her directly.

She was smiling slightly, but there was emptiness somewhere.

Those were eyes I had seen many times somewhere.

“I’m thinking.”

Actually, the song to perform was already decided.

In an Unknown Land.

My heart was crying out that I must perform this piece.

I felt that if I started playing, images from the past would vividly come to mind.

Also, I wanted to let Jeong Mi-rae know a little about what feelings I was playing with.

“Huu…”

Therefore, a small force was transmitted to the keys.

Ten small fingers began to slowly walk across the keys.

‘I can’t play the original. But…’

Since five-year-old fingers couldn’t play the original piece.

I had to modify the song a little so I could play it.

In the original, the left hand accompaniment sometimes played notes an octave higher.

From low C to high C.

That was a performance only an adult could do.

So I would only play from C to G.

I gave the left hand its job to do.

I closed my eyes tightly and focused on the sound the piano strings made.

‘What if I hide this!’

And I heard a voice.

The thin hands that had been slowly playing piano suddenly became thick.

In my eyes were not modern electronic devices but relics of a bygone era.

Objects of memory that became clearer when I tried to forget them.

And my friend’s hands that had treated me.

Those were memories from when I had injured my wrist.

‘If I say I’m hurt, he’ll kick me out. In this era, people like me get thrown away when we become useless.’

I muttered desolately.

I thought that was right at the time.

The way for a pianist from a slave family to survive was to play piano every single day.

I couldn’t even think of any other method.

I was taught that fulfilling the mission given to me was the only way to prove my worth.

I realized that was wrong only when it was too late.

– Ding- Diiing-♩

C- D- E- G-

The right hand slowly played the notes.

I played softly while extending the notes, slowly like reeds swaying in the wind.

This piece was originally like that.

Since it was composed by an adult longing for childhood, there were no difficult techniques.

However, the piece was still difficult for small hands to play.

While an adult cannot become a child, a child can become an adult.

Jeong Mi-rae must have practiced this piece since childhood.

Though she first appeared on TV at 16, she must have made bloody efforts before that too.

Her small fingers had grown thin and long, able to play ‘In an Unknown Land’ without looking.

I was the same way.

The piano performance continued.

The low C from the left hand became pebbles sinking into the piano.

The following D and E disappeared like breath visible in winter.

‘If you keep going like this, you’ll never sit at a piano again.’

I mulled over my friend’s words.

I played piano from when I woke up in the morning until I went to sleep.

I repeated this from age 10.

However, my wrist eventually couldn’t endure it.

The harsh torture and performance that had continued for so long finally brought my wrist down.

So I listened carefully to my friend’s advice.

Not being able to play piano was ultimately no different from killing me.

So I made a resolution.

I would play piano for myself, not for others.

I resolved not to play because of someone else.

– Ding-♬

D- G- ED- C-

The notes fell with a thud, but weren’t drowned out by the noise from other pianos.

They remained clearly in my ears.

My legs were too short to reach the pedal that extends the notes.

The disconnected, muddy sounds filled the gaps in the melody.

The G note following the right hand was like falling leaves.

Like old memories, it was unstable as if trying to scatter.

I pressed without lifting my fingers.

The slowly continuing notes soon disappeared.

Like someone’s body heat, they slowly cooled.

I played the emotions I could express now.

The fear of no longer being able to play piano due to an injured wrist.

The anxiety felt that the barely grasped opportunity might slip away from my hands.

That’s what I thought.

In an Unknown Land was a short piece.

It might be an etude to someone, but not to me.

A piece that reminded me of past pain.

Perhaps it might have such meaning for Jeong Mi-rae as well.

She might have suffered alone, unable to tell anyone.

I wasn’t Jeong Mi-rae, so I knew nothing.

But, if.

If she showed her pain, if she let someone know.

If I could hear it.

I thought a brighter future than mine would be waiting.

My small finger slowly lifted from the keys.

The piano sound that had been precariously continuing collapsed.

Even so, the afterimage of the notes I had played still lingered, echoing in my ears.

I turned my head.

“Ah…”

A very small breath flowed from her lips.

Her eyes were trembling.

Her left hand was gripping her right wrist.

I quietly waited for her to speak.

The morning in the music room became a bit warm with the gentle sunlight.

***

‘What a cute child.’

Jeong Mi-rae thought.

Since the principal had praised him so much, she was curious what kind of child he would be, and now she would hear that song.

– Ding-♬

The child pressed the E key with his finger and stayed still.

As if lost in thought, the child’s legs remained motionless.

Something crossed Jeong Mi-rae’s mind as she watched the child blinking and staring only at the piano keys.

‘What is it…?’

It might be her imagination, but she felt the composure of someone who had played piano for a long time.

Just like her teacher.

Taking a deep breath and straightening his back wasn’t the attitude of someone who took piano lightly.

He seemed to be contemplating what piece to play while gently stroking the keys.

She would have liked to watch until the end, but since there were other children, she urged the child.

“Heeseong, what’s wrong?”

At her words, Heeseong turned his head.

Through his shortly cut bangs, a blank expression was visible.

Jeong Mi-rae saw herself reflected in those bright and clear eyes.

For a moment, a past image flashed by, but Jeong Mi-rae didn’t try to recognize it.

“I was thinking about what to play.”

At the child’s words, she smiled slightly.

However, there was no strength in her smile.

The piece began with the child’s small sigh.

‘Huh…?’

As the child’s small hands began to play, her eyes narrowed.

Her smiling lips parted.

It was a piece she had mentioned in passing, and the child was playing that very piece.

His left and right hands slowly alternated, weaving the music together.

‘It’s definitely a difficult piece to play, but how…?’

Heeseong’s performance immediately solved that question.

The left hand part that originally spanned more than an octave was only playing from C to G.

The child was finding and performing what he could do with his small hands.

Though the piece was modified, Jeong Mi-rae was swept away by the atmosphere that wasn’t different from the original.

The performance that had been just loosening up his hands without any thought now sounded different.

Jeong Mi-rae was someone who knew what kind of performance moved people’s emotions.

However, she had forgotten that at some point.

What kind of performance moved people’s hearts.

She had completely forgotten the finger movements that created such performances.

As Heeseong’s performance progressed, her back, which had been bent to meet the child’s eyes, gradually straightened.

She hunched her shoulders that had fallen limply.

Gradually her left hand moved to hastily cover her trembling right wrist, worried someone might see.

‘It’s a familiar piece… but why…’

Since it was an arranged piece, there were different parts, but the melody and rhythm progression were of a piece she already knew.

Yet the music she was hearing now was somehow different from the piece she knew.

That subtle but clearly felt difference was caressing her.

It was so delicate and tickling that she opened her ears wide, afraid she might miss it if she let her guard down.

Jeong Mi-rae thought that perhaps Heeseong wanted to say something.

Because originally, music was a letter connected through sound.

Jeong Mi-rae tried hard to feel it.

‘What… do you want to say?’

Heeseong was still only 5 years old.

At an age where he would just play as adults told him to.

Yet somehow Jeong Mi-rae thought Heeseong had something he wanted to say.

She just felt that way.

She recalled her past of learning music and having an accident.

It was a painful memory stained with red paint.

The landscape paintings in her memory were always like that.

The hospital scenery, so very red, was bleak and barren with no room for other colors to intrude.

There were no flowers or grass blades swaying in the wind either.

Surely, such memories they were.

‘But why.’

Do they look so beautiful now?

Jeong Mi-rae didn’t know.

The red hospital room that had tormented her for years remained the same.

Yet she could feel the scent of nature.

Between the red-looking hospital window, a rose was blooming.

That flower that hadn’t been visible because it was hidden among that redness.

Jeong Mi-rae discovered it.

“Ah…”

A small breath mixed with admiration flowed across her lips.

She might have seen it wrong.

But she thought that flower was beautiful.

“Teacher!”

She was barely able to escape from the landscape painting in her memory at Heeseong’s voice.

Only then did she focus her eyes and look at Heeseong properly.

The child was making the same blank expression as before playing the piano.

She needed to say something, but somehow her mouth wouldn’t open.

She just blinked and stayed still.

“Did I play badly?”

The child said.

Seeing her reaction and thinking he had played poorly, Heeseong hung his head low.

At that sight, Jeong Mi-rae hurriedly opened her mouth.

“Oh, no! Heeseong played very well…!”

“Really…?”

“Of course. To me…”

Jeong Mi-rae couldn’t continue her words.

Not knowing what she should say, she couldn’t connect her broken sentence.

What she could say right now was.

“…Well, shall we go back to Heeseong’s seat? The next friend needs to play now.”

“Yes!”

To send Heeseong back.

So Heeseong returned to his seat, and another child sat down.

However, having already heard Heeseong’s performance, the other child’s playing didn’t register in her ears.

Because when she closed her eyes, red landscape paintings kept coming to mind.

Jeong Mi-rae tried not to close her eyes.

Time was flowing.

***

“Let me see what time it is now. It’s snack time?”

The principal said, stretching her stiff back straight.

During snack time, watching the children’s expressions as they happily ate sweet treats was her pleasure.

As she hummed and strolled down the hallway, a familiar face was standing in the corner of the corridor.

“Oh? Teacher Mi-rae!”

Jeong Mi-rae was staring blankly at her own hands without looking ahead.

When there was no response to her voice, the principal raised her hand and tapped Jeong Mi-rae’s shoulder.

Startled by the sudden touch, Jeong Mi-rae turned around.

“Oh, Principal. Are you going to see the children?”

“Yes, but what are you doing here?”

At the principal’s words, Jeong Mi-rae seemed to hesitate a little.

She had been standing there in a daze, so she didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I was just… standing here.”

“You were staring at your hands like that – are they hurting again?”

“No. I didn’t play even once today.”

Indeed, Jeong Mi-rae hadn’t touched the piano even once.

She had only asked the children what they wanted to play and listened to them slowly.

Looking at her hands was just her habit.

“Really?”

The principal, who had watched Jeong Mi-rae for a long time, knew her habits.

However, she knew a habit that even Jeong Mi-rae herself wasn’t aware of.

“Really? I thought you had played the piano happily.”

“What? Happily…”

“Teacher Mi-rae was always gloomy when looking at her hands. But today your mouth corners were turned up. So I thought something good had happened.”

Hearing those words, Jeong Mi-rae felt as if she’d been hit in the head with a hammer.

Listening to the principal, after the accident, bad memories always came to mind when she looked at her hands.

But just now, that hadn’t happened.

Somehow good memories had come to mind, and she had been so focused on them that she couldn’t hear anything.

Just as the principal said.

“…Yes. I was thinking about something quite pleasant.”

Because the song the little child played was lingering in her ears and wouldn’t be forgotten.

For a while, Jeong Mi-rae’s mouth corners wouldn’t be turning down.

The morning sun was gradually rising, and the large preschool was filled with the children’s laughter.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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