A Musical Genius Who Plays Memories - Chapter 14

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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 14. Don’t know why (4)

Aeyeon thought.

‘My favorite song…’

That thought made her chest ache.

Somehow, the scent of grass seemed to brush past her nose.

Aeyeon had been playing piano without emotion until now, just doing as she was told.

So there was nothing she could call her ‘favorite song.’

That’s why Hee-seong’s question came as quite a shock to Aeyeon.

Since it was something she had never thought about even once, Aeyeon fell into thought.

The child knew what ‘like’ meant.

‘A song I like… I don’t have one…’

To be precise, they were just means for playing piano.

Things to play when bored, to play for practice, to play for study.

Aeyeon hadn’t put much heart into the pieces she had played until now.

However, at Hee-seong’s single remark, the child closed her eyes tightly to search through her memories.

‘Ah…’

The moment Aeyeon closed her eyes to recall memories, she saw something.

Familiar scenery and forgotten images.

In that scenery, there was a piano.

And a man playing the piano.

A familiar back, that melody he always played for her.

Aeyeon remembered.

‘Father went on a long trip… So, Aeyeon. You can wait for Father, right?’

Mother that day was wearing a black hanbok.

And the child saw Father smiling brightly, surrounded by flowers.

That Father from her memories was playing piano.

However, between Aeyeon and him was an opaque window that she couldn’t easily approach.

Ding- da-ding-

Suddenly Aeyeon’s eyes opened wide.

Father in her memory had started playing.

It was an awkward but somehow familiar melody.

Even with her eyes open, that sound continued to ring in Aeyeon’s ears.

For some reason, her fingertips tingled.

Though Aeyeon didn’t know what was happening, there was one thing certain.

Ding-♬

The child’s small hands were already playing the piano.

‘How did I do that?’

Aeyeon tried hard to recall her memories with Father.

Aeyeon struggled to follow that difficult performance.

She was a little afraid she might lose it if she didn’t concentrate.

‘G? Oh, F!’

The child had talent.

She possessed what’s called perfect pitch.

Even so, there were times when she got confused very occasionally.

Sometimes she would hear C and answer B.

Aeyeon was afraid of those small mistakes.

She didn’t know why she tried so hard.

To be precise, she had forgotten.

‘I don’t know about that stuff.’

Aeyeon decided not to worry about trivial things.

She focused on playing the melody she could hear in her memories right now.

Ding- da-da-ding-♪

Concentrating on the notes for a moment, Aeyeon could tell.

‘Wow… amazing!’

The left hand playing accompaniment and the right hand playing melody.

The piece Father played in her memory was beyond what Aeyeon could play.

His hands were too big, and her small hands struggled even to imitate.

It was impossible to play the constantly changing notes with small hands.

She had to press A# while simultaneously pressing A# an octave higher.

‘The accompaniment is difficult. Then, with both hands!’

Aeyeon took a deep breath.

And hurriedly moved her left hand, not knowing where it would go.

She gave up on the accompaniment.

Instead, she thought to play the melody with both left and right hands.

The melody crossed octaves.

Aeyeon’s two hands followed the melody of the piece.

It was definitely different from her playing until now.

Aeyeon realized anew.

‘Good, left hand is D? D and F, A… Next is A#!’

With slowly moving fingers and eyes tightly closed, the child played.

The child concentrated and absorbed the melody that Father played in her dusty memories.

She captured those faintly continuing notes with her small hands.

The notes flowed like wind.

As if she were in a forest, her toes tingled.

Father’s accompaniment was solid like a large tree.

The melody Aeyeon played with both hands was a single blade of grass.

However, that blade of grass was so thin that she moved hurriedly, afraid it might scatter at any moment.

As she listened more and more to the increasingly familiar melody, the child thought.

‘I’ve heard this somewhere…’

She remembered it was the piece Father played for her every night.

When her mind was hazy from drowsiness.

Aeyeon’s Father would lay Aeyeon on the sofa and play the electronic piano, the keyboard.

He would connect headphones to the keyboard and put them on Aeyeon’s head.

Before that, he would carefully check if the sound wasn’t too loud.

When he started playing, a melody far from a lullaby would flow.

It was somehow an exciting melody.

Even so, when she closed her eyes and quietly savored the notes, Aeyeon felt like she was in a meadow without realizing it.

Small weeds tickling her ankles, fragrant wind swaying her hair.

That kind of pleasant forest.

It was awkward at first, but as she recalled the memory, the more she played, the more familiar it became.

‘C and E… together!’

Aeyeon’s playing was gradually following the melody that Father played in her memory.

She had been overwhelmed just trying to follow the notes without time to think, but not anymore.

She was still following, but now she had a little breathing room.

She could think about how to press the keys, how to stretch the tempo.

However, the child resolved not to think about techniques she could do.

She thought this wasn’t her own performance.

The dusty, opaque window blocking her and Father in her memory didn’t seem easy to wipe clean.

So she didn’t touch it.

If she moved now, it seemed like these fragrant notes would be cut off.

However, I could hear the sound.

With bright ears, I tried to capture that muffled sound like dust.

Left hand was A, right hand was F.

Left hand was A#, right hand was G.

The right-hand melody that would have been played with large hands was being played with both hands by a 5-year-old child.

With index finger and index finger, she earnestly played each key one by one.

‘Ah, rest here!’

When a moment of rest came, the child thought about the next note.

Aeyeon was following along with this strange piece that was awkward yet not awkward.

Like running through the forest, her fingers danced while savoring the refreshing scent of dew.

Father’s notes and Aeyeon’s notes rang out simultaneously.

Father’s note was A.

Aeyeon’s note was G#.

The dissonance created by the two of them.

A mere semitone difference proved that the two were different.

But strangely, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Rather, it felt good.

That small difference could be slowly overcome.

However, the child sensed it.

‘It’s ending…!’

The final note of the music was approaching.

Aeyeon became urgent.

Like how melodies don’t continue forever and an end comes.

She fell into the illusion that this moment would last forever.

Concentrating on the performance, she forgot that time was passing.

That’s why she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

She wanted to open the dusty window.

She wanted to reach out her hand, but couldn’t because she had to play the piano.

Aeyeon’s performance was becoming earnest without her knowing.

It was no longer a performance to follow along, but a performance to be together.

The child’s performance was becoming one with Father’s gradually fading performance.

It didn’t go off track, didn’t veer away, but was simply becoming similar.

She controlled the force of pressing the keys and felt the length of how the notes connected.

But she was feeling just a little bit of impatience.

‘It’s over… but it was good!’

Aeyeon felt that playing piano was different from usual.

A performance done not because someone made her do it, but because she wanted to do it herself.

That was truly the most pleasant performance.

It wasn’t difficult.

It wasn’t boring either.

It wasn’t hard like math or English.

It was difficult at first, but not now.

Aeyeon closed her eyes once more.

She felt the coolness of shade created by a large tree.

She felt the green leaves that had fallen from the tree and the white sunlight.

This was the melody created by the child’s father.

The melody decorated the tree created by the accompaniment.

Father, who was so different from herself and so amazing.

In contrast, she was just a shabby blade of grass.

The melody barely played with both hands was a single blade of grass with weak roots.

A small blade of grass whose name she didn’t even know hoped to reach Father.

‘I want to see your face, at least…!’

A scent so familiar that it was rather nostalgic brushed past her nose.

Only then did Aeyeon realize.

That all the fragrant scents of the forest trees were Father’s scent.

The face of the caring father who always gave her vibrant energy wouldn’t come to mind.

When she tried hard to recall it, his melody blocked it instead.

Strong sunlight created shadows that covered his face.

The music was ending.

‘Ah…’

As the music came to an end, the dust on the window in her memory gradually disappeared.

The child reached out her left hand.

To open the window.

She placed her tiny hand on the handle of the rusted and faded window.

Finally.

The music ended.

The dusty window, the large tree and leaves, sunlight, and meadow created by Father’s accompaniment all disappeared.

The music that wasn’t eternal had ended.

Even so, she wanted to continue performing.

If she played the piano once more like this, it seemed like the fragrant grass scent would enter her nose.

But the child knew.

That it was a scent she could never smell again.

However, the sound remained.

“Aeyeon, you’re doing well.”

That voice spoken with his mouth rather than piano and hands seemed like it would remain forever.

Always, continuously.

Aeyeon opened her closed eyes.

Somehow her vision had become blurry.

Her nose tip and throat stung.

Her hands wouldn’t easily leave the keys.

The brief silence somehow knocked on her heart.

Clap, clap.

And then she heard applause.

At the applause from an audience who had truly listened to her music, Aeyeon bowed her head deeply.

The child’s fingertips were still trembling on the keys, perhaps from lingering attachment.

Like Father’s scent, afraid that the music in her memory would disappear.

Aeyeon quietly took a breath.

***

Hansul Preschool was bustling well past 5 o’clock.

It was filled with children preparing to go home and parents who had come to pick up their children.

I was in a corner of Moran Class with Aeyeon.

The two of us were quietly watching the children.

‘Aeyeon really does play piano well.’

Aeyeon was a genius.

If she had been born in my past era, she would have left her name for posterity.

At first it was rough.

It was music that existed only as melody without accompaniment.

To me, it looked like she was copying a song she had heard somewhere.

It felt like she was forcing herself to follow music that could only be performed after a certain level of growth.

However, as the performance progressed, the piece gradually became more natural.

Even without accompaniment, the piece was perfect as if it had one.

‘It felt like being in a forest somehow. I want to hear it again.’

As a result, Aeyeon’s performance was wonderful.

Listening to the performance with eyes closed, it felt like being in some forest.

It felt like fresh air was filling my lungs completely.

‘It feels like something is pressing down on me.’

I couldn’t tell if that was an emotion or not.

However, I felt some kind of longing.

I felt like reaching out my hand, wanting to see someone.

I thought that someone was probably a person Aeyeon loved.

So I carefully asked Aeyeon.

“Aeyeon, what’s the title of the song you played this morning?”

“I don’t know, Dad played it for me.”

“Ah. But you know what? When I listened to the song you played, it felt… sad somehow.”

This wasn’t a lie.

The piece Aeyeon played was ‘jazz’-like.

The accompaniment of the piece could make your shoulders move, but the emotion felt from the piece was not like that at all.

It seemed to be speaking of sadness.

The melody the child played with difficulty using both hands made that even clearer.

“Huh?”

“Do you miss someone a lot? Your performance seemed to be saying that.”

Aeyeon fidgeted with her hands at my words.

Her cheeks turned red as if she’d been caught doing something embarrassing.

Her small head shook left and right, and the child’s long straight hair brushed against my hand.

“I miss Dad…”

Aeyeon whispered softly.

Her voice was so faint that it scattered quickly and barely reached my ears.

So I was about to open my mouth to hear it again, but Teacher Yu-ra’s gentle voice quietly slipped between us.

“Hee-seong, your mother is here to pick you up.”

She was holding my bag with the flower-shaped name tag.

Feeling sad about having to part, I said to Aeyeon.

“Aeyeon, see you tomorrow. Make sure to tell me the song title.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

The child said with a slight smile.

When playing piano, Aeyeon was desperate to find something.

The child’s performance spoke of something while carrying sadness.

But now, she was just unmistakably a 5-year-old girl.

Just one who was quite tired.

“Let’s play together tomorrow. Bye.”

“Hehe, okay. Bye!”

As I left the Moran Class, the other children also said goodbye.

I waved my hand big to everyone, then left the Moran Class.

Outside the window, it had already grown dark.

***

“Aeyeon, have a good day at the academy today too!”

“Yes, Auntie.”

Aeyeon entered the academy, leaving behind the waving lady.

The child attending difficult classes had no mind for studying from the start.

“Now, everyone. Let’s finish the lesson from last time. Everyone open your books.”

Aeyeon didn’t want to open her book.

The teacher talking about stories she didn’t understand.

In the academy where no one talked to her, there seemed to be no place for the child.

‘I miss Dad…’

She just wanted to play the melody of the piece she had performed in the morning once more.

The piece where the scent of trees brushed past her nose.

She wished her fingertips could touch keys instead of a pencil.

Aeyeon wanted to sit in front of the free piano, not in this prison-like academy.

Today especially, the child thought she didn’t want to study at the academy.

Unlike the academy where time didn’t seem to pass, people outside were busily moving around here and there.

Aeyeon’s Mother running from far away was also like that.

The eyes of her looking up at the academy and the two people looking out the window briefly met.

Both were hoping for the academy to end quickly.

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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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