A Musical Genius Who Plays Memories - Chapter 33

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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 33. If You Stay By My Side (2)

“So Heeseong wants to compose music?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Since your father is a composer, Heeseong knows how to compose too. Is your father helping you?”

“Uh… Yes, I think so.”

I gave her a positive response that wasn’t quite positive to her words.

I had no intention of correcting Jeong Mi-rae’s misunderstanding.

It was more believable for an adult to help alongside rather than a 5-year-old child composing alone.

‘It’s really great that Father is a composer.’

I felt sorry for using Father’s name, but I couldn’t think of any other way.

I should give Father a massage later.

“But wouldn’t that be difficult? Would the other friends be able to play it?”

“That’s why I’ll make it easy. I’ll work with Father to make it so 2 people can play it.”

“That’s a good idea. Then I think that would be fine.”

“Thank you!”

Jeong Mi-rae’s permission was granted.

My current feelings were more joy about being able to compose than joy about getting permission.

After bowing to Jeong Mi-rae, I hurriedly informed the children about this.

“Heeseong’s father is a composer? That’s so cool!”

“Amazing…!”

The eyes of the music-loving children became round like soap bubbles.

Well, since they were children who loved music, they would probably like people who compose music too.

They might be incredibly excited if they actually see Father.

‘There’ll be a chance to see him later. Hmm, should I invite the children to my house?’

That seemed like it would be quite fun.

It would be nice to play and sing songs with music-loving children in Father’s studio.

But that was for later.

Right now I needed to focus on the special class lessons with the children.

“Everyone, could you focus for a moment?”

While everyone was having fun playing piano, Jeong Mi-rae’s voice drew everyone’s attention.

Jeong Mi-rae, who had a gentle smile, had a voice as gentle as her expression.

“It’s a bit difficult since two friends are playing together, right?”

“Yes…”

“That’s right! The sounds come out together!”

“Heeseong told us a good method earlier, shall we try it together?”

I was flustered by Jeong Mi-rae’s sudden mention.

‘I didn’t really do anything… Oh.’

There was one thing that came to mind.

I had said that with the song Father and I made, one friend would play accompaniment and one friend would play melody.

Thinking about it, it wasn’t too bad.

It was also good for developing the children’s teamwork.

‘Wait, why am I thinking about this.’

Going to kindergarten made me think a lot about children.

Of course I think about music more, but I guess it’s an unavoidable feeling that develops.

Jeong Mi-rae told the children my opinion, and the children’s reaction was quite positive.

Since they accepted practice as play rather than boring work, everyone seemed to like it.

“So we’re going to have a small recital among ourselves next week, how does that sound?”

“I want to do it!”

“It sounds fun!”

“Good. I’ll give a praise sticker to the friend who plays the best.”

“Wow, a praise sticker!”

Praise stickers were something that started recently.

When there was something done well, stickers were put in each person’s notebook.

Children would pick up trash, listen attentively in class, or not be picky with food.

Since they get snacks when they collect all the praise stickers, all the children were working hard to get praise stickers.

‘I just lived normally, but I received quite a lot. Yes, very many.’

I thought it might be unfair, but it couldn’t be helped.

I was happy since I could eat sweet snacks.

“Then, we’ll stop here for today. Everyone did well!”

The first day of the special class ended like that, but for me it was just the beginning.

It was time for composition.

***

“Uhhhhhhh…”

Saturday morning.

The composition I had been trying to do since yesterday wasn’t working out at all.

I had become a caterpillar crawling around the living room sofa.

I looked at the plants Mother was growing in the corner, and watched the clock turning.

‘It’s not working…!’

I tried to write a song, but it wasn’t working at all, so my mind was in a very confused state.

‘It’s too difficult a song for children to do…’

In the trash can in front of me were several crumpled music sheets.

How should I put it, there was no theme.

Should I say there was no story I wanted to tell.

In the past, even if there was no theme, I would have forced myself to make something, but now I didn’t want to do that.

Music made that way wasn’t music.

“I wanted to do it together with Aunt Sujin… but she’s busy so it can’t be helped.”

Unfortunately, Aunt contacted me saying she couldn’t make time due to a suddenly increased schedule.

It was disappointing but understandable.

“This won’t work.”

I got up from my seat and headed to the master bedroom.

A composer’s worries should be solved by a composer.

“Father, Father.”

“Cough! Hmm…? Son, what’s the matter…?”

“I want to go into the studio!”

I woke up Father who was sleeping in late after working until dawn and entered the studio.

As always, the fragrant scent of the diffuser made me feel good.

“What does our son want to do that he woke up Dad?”

“I want to listen to the songs Father made.”

“That’s fine. Did something happen at kindergarten?”

I briefly told Father about what happened yesterday.

After hearing the explanation, Father’s curiosity showed on his face like a child who discovered something interesting.

It seemed like he wanted to do it in earnest, so he left for a moment saying he’d go wash his face.

In the meantime, I looked at the files where Father’s composed songs were gathered.

‘Untitled 1, 2, 3, 4… It’s definitely difficult to come up with titles. It’s the same now as in the past.’

I chuckled while looking at Father’s work.

As I spent time thinking this must be what it feels like to be immersed in memories, Father came in with a clean face.

I quietly stared intently at Father’s face.

‘He’s quite handsome, you know. Should I say he has an atmosphere?’

If I imagined a man reading a book with glasses under a tree in mid-autumn, that would be exactly Father’s appearance.

“Is there something on Dad’s face?”

“No. I looked because you’re handsome.”

“Hahaha! Son, where did you learn to say things like that? Well, it was good that I sent you to kindergarten!”

Father laughed like that for a while, then did some simple stretching.

It was his routine before starting work in earnest.

After finishing his stretches, Father’s expression became infinitely serious.

He looked as solemn as a soldier heading to the battlefield.

“Heeseong, what song do you want to hear? Dad has quite a lot of songs.”

“Um…”

I had told Father I wanted to listen, but I didn’t know what I should hear.

But there was one thing I was certain about.

I wouldn’t listen to his most successful music.

‘Ah, I want to hear an early piece.’

If possible, I wanted to hear the very first song he composed.

Because the image of Ajin came to mind.

In my head, Ajin and my past self overlapped.

The time when I didn’t know the first thing about music.

My helpless past when I could only listen blankly to others’ performances like a dog caught in the rain was as vivid as a painting.

For that reason, I said to Father.

“I want to hear the first song Dad ever made!”

“The first song I made? I’m not sure if it exists, it’s been so long.”

Father said that while moving his mouse around quickly.

The more the mouse moved, the worse Father’s expression became.

It seemed like the first song he made didn’t exist.

“Um… Dad’s first song isn’t here.”

“Really…? Then it can’t be helped.”

“But instead, there’s a song that’s incredibly precious to Dad.”

“Really? What is it? I want to hear it quickly!”

Soon a file opened, and the title came into my view.

‘Stand by me? Stay by my side? What does it mean?’

Reading English wasn’t too difficult, but I was curious about Father’s intention behind the title.

“Dad, what does the title mean?”

“Ah, you don’t know because it’s in English. This means to stay by my side.”

“By your side? Why?”

“I composed this for Mom. Um, that was when I was in high school, so 20 years ago. Time really flies.”

“Wow…”

A smile naturally formed on my face at the story of writing a song for his first love in high school and then marrying her.

Father’s songs, being such a devoted husband, were always warm.

I was curious what this song would be like.

“Well, shall we listen to it now?”

“Yes! Let’s listen quickly!”

As always.

Click.

The spacebar was pressed, and the song began like that.

‘Hmm.’

The beginning of the song was so dry, like desert sand sliding down my throat.

At the same time, it was rough like unfinished wooden furniture.

It was different from Father’s current music.

It would be more accurate to say it was cold.

He said it was 20 years ago, so he would have been 17.

As far as I know, that would have been his first year of high school.

I knew very well because I had experienced it too.

That 17 is an age full of worries in many ways.

‘So this song deals with Father’s worries.’

Simple but low piano notes were joined by cello.

Since they were still low notes, it felt bland.

My throat was dry.

So I wanted water, but no water was visible.

Father’s music continued like that.

The piano accompaniment repeated.

The same notes consistently.

– Dum dum-♪

Beyond bland, it was starting to become a little scary.

So cold that I would cover my whole body with sand.

So I became curious.

What could make such a kind Father’s precious music feel this way.

– Ting-♬

What changed the mood of the song was a very small sound.

The violin swayed gently.

It was cool like the dawn breeze.

The low notes of the cello and piano were suffocating and scary.

‘Ah, so that’s why. That’s why it was like that.’

I felt like I understood something.

Father’s worries seemed similar to the worries I had now, or rather in the past.

My worries when I didn’t know music.

I remembered myself when I could only remain helpless.

‘Mother came to his side.’

Father was the piano and cello.

Heavy and serious repeated performance.

Rough, cold, and suffocating.

But the violin was not.

The violin was slow.

But because of that, I could tell it was something different.

The performance of the three instruments was heterogeneous, but perhaps because of that, I strongly felt like something fit together perfectly.

‘The violin is Mother. It would be the same then as before.’

A person who makes people smile.

That was Mother.

The violin’s tempo became a little faster.

The piano and cello also became faster together.

The tempo of the three instruments had become the same before I knew it.

But the notes remained the same.

The violin was high, and the two instruments were low.

The balance fell into place.

It was cool like moderately cold water.

Rain fell on the desert.

When the rain called violin fell on the dry accompaniment, the song was finally complete.

But the length of the song was short.

The song, less than 2 minutes long, was ending regrettably.

I could understand since it was an early piece.

‘Still, I think I can tell it’s a good song. The meaning of the title too.’

I belatedly realized Father’s intention.

I think I understood the meaning of the title too.

Stay by my side.

Rain down on me who is thirsty in the desert.

That’s how I interpreted it.

I didn’t know what it actually meant.

But it would probably be similar.

“When Father was having a hard time, Mother stayed by his side. So I made this song and gave it to Mother as a gift. I made the song terribly, didn’t I?”

“No! It was really cool!”

“I’m happy that my son says that. When I composed this song, Mother said she really liked it.”

“You’ve been composing since then?”

“That’s right. My son is smart.”

I thought so.

If someone precious praises your poor music, anyone would gain strength.

It would be the same for other things, not just composing.

Praise was sweeter than any food.

‘I was like that too. No, was I?’

I also received praise.

In the very early days.

There was no praise after that.

Unfortunately, I grew distant from the person who would praise my performance.

But it won’t be like that now.

I have a body that can receive praise and, conversely, give praise too.

“What song do you want to hear now? I want to listen to some old songs I made after a long time.”

“Um… I want to play piano by myself, is that okay?”

“Of course, as much as you want.”

Someone’s song was inspiration to someone else.

To me, composing meant looking at other people’s lives and experiencing them.

There was something in common between Father and me, and between Ajin and me too.

Having someone by your side.

‘The title is decided.’

Now it’s really time to compose.

I turned past the crumpled staff paper and placed my pencil on clean staff paper.

Since my grip strength was lacking, it was a bit crooked, but I continued drawing notes.

Slowly.

A simple piece that children could play.

At the same time, I began making an interesting piece.

‘It’ll be a bit different from Father’s.’

The inspiration that came to me was a bit different from Father’s.

So I felt like I could work on it interestingly.

***

‘He’s composing right now, isn’t he?’

Through the slightly open door, Yoon Young-hoon was watching his son.

He was busy playing the small piano and then writing something in his notebook.

It was strange how he rushed into his room saying he wanted to play piano alone after listening to the song, so he secretly watched.

But seeing the child’s behavior, Yoon Young-hoon was so surprised his mouth fell open.

He knew his son’s genius was outstanding, but he didn’t know he could even compose.

‘There was a reason why his aunt said that.’

The words Hwang Su-jin casually mentioned after going to the music studio with Heeseong.

– I’m going to compose with Hee-seong.

At those words, Shin Ji-eun and Yoon Young-hoon were shocked.

They knew their son’s talent.

But they thought that talent was limited only to piano performance.

‘Composing… There was a reason he likes music.’

Yoon Young-hoon, who became a bit curious about what kind of piece would emerge, quietly closed the door.

He thought it would be good for the child if he quietly supported him like in his own past.

‘But did he get inspired by my song? His eyes seemed like that.’

As a composer, he became curious about what kind of song a child who was only 5 years old would make after listening to a performance that contained his 17-year-old past.

Yoon Young-hoon’s steps returning to the music studio were light.

Saturday morning was passing by like that.

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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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