God of Piano

“If that’s the case, come back with a more serious song. Why do you have to do this?”

“What if you ask me? You must know.”

Rowoon’s stage was still a very interesting topic. Even if people didn’t expect him, it wasn’t that he didn’t even pay attention.

Of course, there was bound to be unfavorable interest among them.

“Greg. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

The dark-skinned boy half-lying on the chair opened his mouth. Gregor, a quiet boy sitting next to him, did not respond. Nevertheless, Luther continued without hesitation.

“If your efforts are at that level, isn’t it just for show? Why don’t you know that there are people in the world who were born to perform and there are people who are not?”

“······well.”

Gregor’s answer was lukewarm. As if he agreed or not, he was staring at the door of the waiting room with a puzzled expression.

Luther seemed to be somewhat disappointed with Gregor’s lukewarm response. He deliberately raised his voice in an exaggerated tone.

“Every day in the practice room, they pretend to be scared, and there is nothing special about playing.”

“shut up. Stop talking bullsh*t there.”

It was Chris, not Gregor, who answered Luther. Luther stopped talking and slowly turned his head. The moment I confirmed that it was Chris who was swearing at me, he looked a bit taken aback, but soon he raised his voice with a confident attitude.

“Did you say something to me?”

“okay.”

Chris growled in reply. Even over the short-sleeved T-shirt, the clearly defined muscles looked like they were ready to squeeze Luther at any moment.

“But if you talk more like this, I think you will do more than talk. how will we do it. Mouth open or close.”

“······Good, good. I will stop.”

Luther calmly raised his hands. Although he had a personality that liked to stretch in many ways, even so, looking at Chris’ arms trained through boxing, his lack of enthusiasm seemed to disappear.

Luther turned his gaze back to the stage and bit his lip.

‘Hmph, anyway, once the performance starts, I’ll be proven right.’

Chris can shut his mouth, but Rowoon’s fingers can’t. When the fingertips once again produced an uninteresting performance that showed no distinctiveness or talent, the fight was to end with Luther’s victory.

‘come out. theory. Hurry up and make your ignorant friend speechless.’

From noble mtl dot com

In a way, Luther was one of those who looked forward to Rowoon’s stage more than anyone else. It’s coming soon. Soon, the lights went out, the door opened, Rowoon passed by Baum’s side and went on stage, and then…

‘come.’

The lights went out.

Luther clenched his fists tightly, feeling his heartbeat ringing in his ears. Now is the time to prove who the god of music abandoned and took care of.

Rowoon walked out of the waiting room. The white shirt and black pants looked like the keys of a piano, and whenever the black sneakers stepped on the floor, they made a pedal-like sound.

He sat down at the piano. Everyone started coughing and holding their breath. Silence fell. Rowoon looked at the piano for a long time in the silence of each person’s thoughts and expectations.

‘Chopin.’

For this moment today, he did the best he could. He doesn’t care what thoughts are in the eyes of the students looking at him. What he thinks of today is just Chopin.

Rowoon caught his breath. I straightened my chair, put my feet on the pedals, felt the piano through the touch of the keyboard, looked up at the sky, closed my eyes for a moment, opened them, looked back, maybe even looked back on Chopin’s life beyond my memory, and moved my fingers. heard, and

The sound of Chopin poured down like a waterfall.

＜ Not the best, but probably the only one (2) ＞ End

＜ Not the best, but probably unique (3) ＞

1846. Chopin was notified of separation from his girlfriend of nine years, Georges Sand.

(…)

1847. Chopin composed Waltz in D-flat major, Op.64 No.1, Valse du petit chien. This song, more famously known as the Dog Waltz, was inspired by seeing Sand’s puppy running after his tail.

How can this song, written over the scars of parting, have such a happy resonance?

— Seonyoung Kim, excerpt from ‘Sounds we don’t know’.

#

“Is your neck okay?”

It’s a voice that isn’t very kind compared to the contents of the concern. Rowoon, no, Chopin turned his head. Sandy was looking down at him expressionlessly.

“At least I’m fine since I’m not vomiting blood.”

“Following all people in the world, now you even laugh at my illness. It’s like you.”

Sand laughed dryly and sat down next to Chopin. Chopin looked at her. Instead, her eyes looking at the wild grass no longer contained the same passion or happiness as before. Chopin asked himself whenever he saw Sand.

Will she say goodbye today?

It’s been a long time since their relationship waited for an end. The two had long since grown weary of each other, or rather, of Sande Chopin. Is it that she is tired of having to constantly take care of the sick person, or that her love has cooled, or maybe both?

If there’s anything more I can do, it’s probably just parting.

Chopin waited for the day Sand would show courage, and at the same time hoped that day would never come. At one time they were attached to each other as if they were tied with ropes, but now all that held them together was a few thin threads.

So, when Chopin was with Sande, he said nothing. A trifling word from him might cut the last ties between them.

Still, Chopin had to concede. No matter when, that string will eventually break.

It is only stupid people to stay close to someone who has lost their heart.

she was a smart woman

I won’t make the mistake of wasting my life for long.

“Chopin.”

“······huh?”

And she opened her mouth. Chopin looked back at her, replying late. And, even though I waited, I knew that the moment I hoped would not come is now, even though no one told me.

“I think······.”

wow!

It was then. Sangd’s voice, which was about to say something, was cut off by the barking of a dog. It was her dog, Paul. Perhaps it was because he had been hit in the face by his tail a few times, Paul growled and started spinning after his tail.

A sudden and stupid appearance, however,

“Poop.”

Sand laughed.

“Aha, ahahahaha. Look at Paul. What is that, puhu…”

Chopin took his eyes off the dog and looked at Sand. And he realized he hadn’t seen her smile in quite a while. That smiling face is more beautiful and beautiful than I thought.

Sand did not even say what he was going to say that day.

The parting was not canceled, but put on hold,

Chopin had enough of that.

#

‘······Chopin. I’m not going to melt your life away in today’s performance.’

There was no time for Rowoon to incorporate what he learned from Chopin’s journals into his performance.

Originally, it was a journal that I tried to digest over the course of a week. In fact, I didn’t think even that week was enough, I thought that at least that much time would be enough to prepare something. Digesting the journal in one day was an impossible task without any reason to think about it.

Still, Rowoon did the best he could. I plugged in my earphones and played Chopin’s journal.

And, it became Chopin who sat next to Nohant and Sand in 1846.

In 1847, he became Chopin, composing a dog waltz, reminiscent of the departed Sande.

I read Chopin’s scars hidden behind the refreshing sound of the dog’s waltz. I could feel his desperate struggle to forget the pain.

I stayed up all night practicing to make use of the rest of the night until the stage. I thought it would be nice if I could put the scent of Chopin’s life into his performance.

Was the exercise really meaningful?

‘I don’t know.’

The audience will tell you the answer.

My palms were wet with sweat. Rowoon stared at the door of the waiting room. There is everything out there. No passion, no glory, no joy, no dreams.

That’s why I’m afraid to open that door. His hand might catch it all, but it might miss it all.

Rowoon glanced at the digital clock hanging on the wall of the waiting room. 10:03 written in red. There are 2 minutes left.

What should I do in these 2 minutes? Should I calm down? Should I think about a song I’m going to play soon? It’s clear that you have to stop worrying, but is that possible?

‘······It’s not that we’re going fast just because we’re in a hurry.’

Rowoon recalled the first time his puppy waltz score exceeded 50 points. The moment he accepted that his performance was inevitably lacking, he was able to go one step further.

There is nothing different about today. His performance may have improved, but he will still fall short, and he is still too young to claim the glory. I had to accept that I couldn’t be satisfied.

Rowoon got up. 10:05. It was time.

leave the waiting room get up on stage The sound of shoes ringing in the silence is exceptionally noisy, and the glimmering gazes in the darkness shoot like arrows.

Burden. Elevation. nervous. expectation. excitement, and excitement.

When he goes on stage, it seems that all the emotions in the world rush to him. But I can’t back down. can’t even sit down Fighting against this pressure is the first enemy a pianist must fight.

The light is on the piano, not the pianist. The main character is not him, but the piano. He has to become a director, not an actor, at this moment and show the audience the true charm of that protagonist.

The performance started at this moment. As he sits in his chair, and the breathing of the audience grows quieter little by little, and his heart calms to match the stillness,

At that time, it is to send a single line of sound to this world.

‘Chopin.’

While the melody of the cute and lovable dog waltz played, Rowoon’s head was filled with thoughts of Chopin.

The journal did not simply ‘know’ the background of Chopin’s composing, but ‘feel’ it. While playing the journal, Rowoon felt all of Chopin’s thoughts and feelings, and as such, he knew better than anyone how heavy the pen he was holding when writing this light song.

Knowing its weight, his attitude naturally cannot be lightened.

‘······ It’s changed again?’

Baum twitched his eyebrows as he watched Rowoon play. The atmosphere was different from the last time I had a lesson. Previously, if Rowoon was playing at a level where he tried to bring out the feeling of each note, now…