Chapter 780: Question (1)

New York, which I returned to after several weeks, was completely wrapped in Christmas atmosphere.

"Everyone! Look at this!"

I pointed the selfie camera toward the year end scenery of New York City.

"We wish you a Merry Christmas~ We wish you a Merry Christmas~"

I was happily singing a carol when, for some reason, it suddenly felt empty, so I stopped.

Usually by this point the underlings who harmonize with me would show up, but today I was alone.

Well. The New Yorkers passing by were also looking at me with strange expressions.

"It's really lonely without the younger members. Ah. The feelings of my heart as I film this lonely vlog without the younger members......."

"You look extremely happy though, Wooju."

At Minki hyung’s comment I protested.

"What are you saying? I'm extremely, extremely miserable because the younger members aren't here. My day is incredibly miserable and... hmm? But what is that smell? It smells like pizza."

"It is pizza."

"Should we eat pizza?"

We stopped by a pizza shop with the managers and had a quick bite.

"You look really happy, Wooju."

"Sometimes I think it's nice to spend time apart like this. That way we realize how precious each other are."

"So are you realizing it now?"

"No. Not yet."

Everyone burst out laughing.

"It feels like being freed from childcare for a moment."

A kid who might disappear somewhere because he has no sense of direction.

A kid who runs after pigeons whenever he sees them.

A kid who gags whenever he sees New York's unsanitary facilities.

"And Jiho?"

"Jiho is... well, Jiho."

"Ah. I think I understand."

"I can't handle that energy. He has way too much energy."

Even our youngest member, who has infinite stamina like a retriever that fully recharges after sleeping for just thirty minutes.

Without younger members who need constant supervision, the shoulders of the eldest brother feel light.

"Yes. NewBlack TV subscribers, today I'm going to fully enjoy a day just for myself. I'm going to think only about myself."

I decided to enjoy my personal freedom until heading to the recording studio.

First of all, this pizza!

I took a bite of the pizza, where tomato sauce and cheese blended beautifully, then asked the managers.

"But they can't package this, right?"

"Why, are you going to bring it to the people you're recording with?"

"No. It's just so delicious. I think the guys would love it if I bought it for them, but bringing it all the way to Seoul would be a bit much, right?"

Everyone looked at me and burst out laughing.

" Wooju's New York Visit Ep.1 "

Wooju exits the pizza shop.

Wearing LeBlanc’s floral mask, he walks down the street while scenes show New Yorkers flinching and turning their heads as they notice him.

Some people appear in the middle saying "I know you" and greeting him coolly.

Wooju: Then I'll enjoy my day!

Immediately the Human Theater style narration begins.

[A Korean eldest son who has declared he will live today only for himself.]

[His face is full of smiles.]

But only for a moment.

Wooju stops at a small bookstore and stares at something. The manager, trying to hold back laughter, asks:

Manager: What are you doing right now?

Wooju: Ah. I think Ri Hyuk would like this. It's a pop up book about the history of New York City. It's from the same publisher as the pop up book I bought in France before.

Manager: It says recommended for children under thirteen.

Wooju: Exactly Ri Hyuk's taste.

Stopping by the bookstore, he picks up books Ri Hyuk would like.

At the supermarket he grabs American snacks Junhyun would enjoy, and he buys a Christmas sweater for Biju.

Wooju: It's a toy store!

Manager: Hey hey. He's running over there! Wooju, we have to go with him!

Wooju: The figure Jiho said he wanted is over there! He said it was limited edition...!

Managers: (laughing)

After stopping by the toy store as well, Wooju walks awkwardly while carrying shopping bags in both hands.

Over the scene, the earlier moment where he declared he would live only for himself fades faintly on screen.

[I will not give affection by Sun Wooju]

The manager asks Wooju, who is carrying the bags.

Manager: But what's the other one? Did you buy something for yourself?

Wooju: Ah. I bought it at the toy store. It's for a friend.

Manager: A friend?

Wooju: Hyeonjo. He likes magic wands. This one lights up when you press it.

The managers burst out laughing.

This vlog by Sun Wooju spread the meme among idol fans:

[Lee Hyeonjo 25 who likes magic wands]

After spending the day enjoying time for myself.

I headed to a recording studio on Broadway in New York City.

"Hello!"

In a studio large enough to record a full orchestra, musicians were tuning their instruments.

"The Son of Sun has arrived!"

They joked with the wordplay "Son of Sun," and I smiled while holding up the bags.

"I brought snacks. Anyone want some?"

"Me! Me!"

The musicians happily took the snack bags.

Watching them pull out rainbow bagels and cakes, I greeted them again.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Ross."

"Call me Winston."

The legendary saxophonist and jazz master Winston Ross, who was overseeing the overall consultation for today's album.

Starting with him, I shook hands with the artists participating in today's recording.

A Black woman with long flowing hair smiled deeply and held out her hand.

"Camila Baker. My brother Usler toured with your father. Nice to meet you."

"Thank you very much for participating."

She was the family member of a musician who had toured with my father until the very end.

Among jazz saxophonists she was considered one of the best, and after Winston Ross she had the most seniority in this room.

"I'm Chad Owell. I handle the vibraphone."

"Raymond Irwin. Drums."

"These snacks are incredible. Did you get them on Seventh Avenue? Ah, I'm CJ. I play trombone."

Perhaps because of the nature of jazz music, the racial makeup here was different from what you usually see on American streets.

Unlike the streets where white people were the majority, over half of the people in this studio were Black.

I smiled and chatted with them as they spoke almost like singing and enjoyed the snacks, but inside my chest my heart was pounding.

I whispered to Seokhwan hyung.

"That person is a Grammy Award winner."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The people I used to see in music magazines and textbooks as the latest trends are all here......."

If subtitles were added to this vlog, titles like these would probably appear under their names.

[Grammy Winner]

[Hall of Fame Inductee]

[Jazz Awards Lifetime Achievement]

It was a lineup that would make most jazz musicians freeze up if they stood in front of them.

Still, the conversation wasn't difficult.

Because we shared a common topic: my father.

"So."

Winston Ross leaned his head toward me.

"Paul told me you will be performing Myungju's composition at the Olympics this time?"

"Yes."

At the word Olympics the musicians congratulated me.

"What piece will you perform?"

"I'm still thinking about it. There are so many good pieces that... it would be nice if I could find the right one."

Someone cut in.

"Teacher Sun Myungju really has a lot of masterpieces!"

Immediately the room became lively.

"That's true."

"Personally I liked It's Swing Time that was revealed recently. Though maybe it's not ideal for the Olympics?"

"It's the Olympics. It needs some seriousness."

People began debating, each recommending different songs.

Some sat at the piano saying "This one is good!" while others played the saxophone saying "This is it."

As I also sank into thought together with the people who were worrying about it as if it were their own matter.

A saxophone melody flowed out as if saying, Listen to my idea.

Everyone's gaze shifted.

"You people are so impatient."

Camila Baker removed her lips from the saxophone reed and clicked her tongue at the chatting men.

"Let's finish the recording first and think about it later. There are still unreleased songs left. Let's decide after we complete recording the unreleased tracks."

"That's true."

Everyone agreed and immediately began preparing for the recording.

After the musicians returned to their positions, I moved to the control room with Winston Ross.

Beyond the glass, the musicians wearing headphones were warming up with improvisation.

"What song is that?"

Seokhwan hyung asked in admiration.

"There isn't one. It's just improvisation."

"This is...?"

"Isn't it amazing? That playing like this comes out as naturally as breathing."

"Amazing. I thought it was an existing song."

Every time the musicians' fingers danced, it felt as if musical notes floated beautifully through the air.

That was the level of harmony created by world class performers.

"Shall we begin?"

At the engineer's words, the musicians stopped playing at once.

Winston Ross leaned on his cane and turned his gaze toward me.

"It's time for your entrance, Son of Sun."

"Yes."

I pressed the talkback button on the console.

Then I looked at the sheet music placed on the table.

"This is the first piece. Tik Tok. It's a song that represents the ticking sound of a clock. It's about a romantic relationship between a man and a woman. When confessing love...."

My role today was to comment on the songs.

The musicians and engineers here were far more expert than I was in performance or technical aspects.

Honestly I originally didn't have much to do.

I was planning to just observe how things went and then leave, but the musicians here asked for something different.

Give us the comments directly. You are the person who understands your father's music best.

So before the recording began, I took on the role of helping the musicians capture the emotions, atmosphere, and feeling of the pieces.

Also, the sheet music for the unreleased songs contained many comments written in Korean.

Some words had nuances that were difficult to translate into English.

Seokhwan hyung said to me:

"It seems your comments are helping. Everyone is closing their eyes and concentrating."

"They're all so skilled already."

Soon the beautiful performance began, and a smile formed on my lips.

The song I had imagined in my head was flowing out perfectly in reality.

Beautiful colors.

Exquisite rhythm.

"Good. Let's move on to the next piece."

The old man sitting with both hands resting on his cane nodded.

When the song ended and he silently nodded, it meant the recording was complete.

Of course that didn't mean every song received approval.

"Raymond. The beat in the third measure was wrong."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It shouldn't be tit tit tit. It should be tit tit, tit. What you just played was not jazz."

Whenever even a slightly off or subtle detail appeared, his eyes would open immediately. His sense was almost supernatural.

He could clearly diagnose parts where even I was unsure what I had heard.

I looked at the master who controlled these top level musicians like a conductor and felt admiration.

"Next piece. Please explain."

"Yes."

Within all of that, I continued playing my role.

Explaining the song, then listening to it.

The harmonies were so beautiful that it was a time of wonderful musical experience.

The jazz musicians grew more enthusiastic as they recorded while watching me listen with bright eyes.

"Now the last song."

"The last one."

It was time to record the final and most important piece.

The song that would serve as the finale of my father's performance.

It was written with the theme of sending a question to people twenty years in the future.

"It's difficult to comment much on this song. I think it's a piece where personal experience is important."

I made eye contact with the jazz musicians and spoke.

"I think everyone has questions that are most important to them. For example, What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of music? Or maybe even What should I eat for dinner tomorrow."

People laughed.

"I think Question is that kind of song. A song about the question that matters most to you."

My explanation was clumsy, but the musicians seemed to understand.

Soon the performance began.

Starting with the pianist's solo, the song painted a calm melody, like lightly climbing a staircase.

One by one the instruments joined.

As the cheerful yet meaningful song continued, I quietly closed my eyes and listened.

Are you doing well, son?

Of course the actual message of the song was a bit different, but that was how it sounded to me.

Did you eat?

Was today a good day?

Did you get along with your friends?

The lively piano accompaniment sounded like my father's voice, and the gentle vibration of the strings sounded like my mother's voice.

composed by Myungju, Myeongeun

As written on the sheet music, a song composed by both my parents.

As the song continued, sounding as if someone were gently speaking to me, I smiled.

At the same time, something surged within my heart.

Like wanting to answer when you hear a question.

"......."

The tickling sensation inside my heart slowly spread everywhere, and my fingers twitched.

It felt as if beautiful colors were passing in front of my closed eyes.

Like dozens of shooting stars drawing arcs above me on a rooftop under the night sky.

I was tapping my knee with my fingers while imagining a melody that would respond to Question.

After a while, I felt someone's gaze.

"Hm?"

When I opened my eyes, Winston Ross was looking at me.

The old man smiled mischievously as if he were watching a familiar scene.

"Did something occur to you?"

"What?"

"Your fingers. They were moving the entire time while you listened."

"Ah......."

The musicians were also watching me now that the recording had ended.

Seeing their curiosity, I explained.

"So......."

About the song that had just come to mind.

"So......."

Winston Ross and the musicians had smiles on their lips.

He really does resemble him.

The way he sank into deep thought alone and lost himself in inspiration was familiar to all of them.

Even when everyone chatted together happily, if something came to mind he would go to a corner and scribble on paper.

Then he would play the piano and nod off while composing.

Seeing someone who looked exactly like the person they had seen twenty years ago, they chuckled.

"So to summarize."

Winston Ross asked:

"You thought of a reply song to Question?"

"Yes. That's right."

The handsome young man scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"But it came to me separately from this recording, so... it's unrelated to what we're doing now."

"Didn't you say you thought of it while listening to Myungju's piece?"

"Yes."

"Then we can consider it part of today's recording as well."

It was a bit of a leap in logic, but the other musicians simply nodded.

No idea what kind of piece it is, but it sounds interesting.

The recording was already finished.

But the masters of improvisation became excited when something interesting appeared.

It might take some time.

People knew Sun Myungju as a genius, but the reality was slightly different.

He certainly had talent, but he was even more hardworking than talented.

They had seen him spend ten hours polishing a single melody just to create one song.

Sun Wooju.

They looked at the son of Sun Myungju standing before them.

Had he inherited his father's talent?

Since he worked in popular music, they didn't fully know the depth of his music.

But seeing him stand out in pop, perhaps he possessed talent similar to his father.

"Then that's perfect."

Winston Ross pointed.

"Try playing what you just imagined."

"Ah, yes!"

"Use that to play it."

"...That?"

"Yes."

The young man, who had been blankly thinking about music, walked toward the direction Winston Ross pointed.

But instead of going to the piano—

the pop star stopped in front of a glass that people had been drinking juice from earlier.

"...?"

Then he placed a finger on the glass.

Tap.

Tap.

Each glass contained different amounts of liquid.

Because of that, each produced a different sound when tapped.

After rhythmically tapping the glasses and checking the notes, he began moving his fingers.

What is he doing—

At that moment his fingers began touching the glasses one by one, creating clear resonance.

A simple melody reached their ears.

It was already a complete tone without needing to add or subtract anything.

"..."

Everyone in the room stared blankly at Wooju.

What is this.

It was talent far beyond what they expected.

He didn't stop at the main melody but continued into what sounded almost like a fully completed composition.

It was perfect.

They had slightly underestimated him because he worked in popular music rather than their own field.

But now—

Isn't he even more than his father?

It felt like his talent had been undervalued precisely because he worked in pop music.

If someone with that level of ability existed in another musical field, he would immediately be praised as a genius of this era.

As they stared blankly, someone spoke.

"Do you know the story of Hercules?"

"I do."

"This feels exactly like watching that."

In Greek mythology, the supreme god created a son with all his strength to defeat his enemies.

Just as Hercules defeated the snakes sent by Hera when he was born, this son was showing talent even greater than his father.

It almost felt as if Sun Myungju were standing beside them whispering,

"My son is incredible, isn't he?"

While the musicians remained dazed—

"Hm."

Wooju lifted his head and smiled awkwardly.

"What do you think? It's probably very lacking, right?"

"..."

"Why are you all like that?"

Winston Ross spoke.

"Well."

His voice cracked at first. After clearing his throat, he asked:

"I have one question."

"Yes, Winston."

"Why did you play it using glasses instead of going to the piano?"

"What?"

A puzzled expression.

Sun {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Wooju pointed at the glass.

"You told me to play it with this."

"When did I?"

The old man felt utterly dumbfounded.

"I was pointing at the piano over there."

"Ah......."

"..."

"..."

Sun Wooju made an expression of sudden realization while the jazz musicians stared blankly.

One question appeared in their minds.

Is this a genius or a fool?

It was truly an unsolvable mystery.