Chapter 781: Question (2)

"I am being treated unfairly."

I was certain that Winston Ross had pointed at the glass and said, "Try playing it with this," so I simply did what he told me.

"Hahaha!"

The old man leaning on his cane burst out laughing.

Laughing so hard that his Adam's apple was visible, Winston shook his head.

"What kind of fool would actually play music with a glass just because someone told him to? Even if someone told me to do it, I couldn't."

"Exactly. Is that even possible?"

The other musicians chimed in and approached the table full of glasses.

They tried tapping them with their fingers and attempting to play, but quickly clicked their tongues, saying it was difficult.

"It's hard."

"So it really wasn't something just anyone could do."

While muttering those comments, they glanced at me.

Their gaze was clearly different from before.

Before, they had looked at me as if I were simply cute, but now it felt like they were looking at me on equal footing.

"First."

Camila Baker lifted her saxophone with her thick hands and spoke to me.

"Go sit at the piano, Wooju."

"Yes."

"I think I'm starting to get a feel for it too. Let's try playing it together."

Apparently thinking it would make great behind the scenes footage, our managers raised their handycam and began filming.

While I sat down at the piano bench, the musicians quickly took their places.

The vibraphone player lifted his metal mallets, and the drummer adjusted the hi hat again.

"Let's see."

Before writing the piece, I looked around at the people present and typed their names one by one into my phone.

Winston Ross, who was standing beside the musicians waiting to play, asked:

"What are you doing right now?"

"For copyright reasons. I'm writing down the names of everyone participating in the performance."

"Boooo!"

The musicians who had been waiting excitedly began booing.

"We don't need that!"

"Just start playing already!"

"You even inherited that unnecessarily meticulous personality. No one would doubt whose son you are."

The musicians hurried me, saying we had to play before the old man's inspiration disappeared.

I nodded.

Then I placed both hands on the keys.

When I played it with the glasses earlier, some notes were missing so it was hard to reproduce properly.

But now I felt like I could finally play it correctly.

"One moment."

Before starting the piano performance, I loosened my fingers by pressing jazz chords.

Even during that time, the musicians could not contain their excitement, and the sound of drums and saxophones slipped into the room.

Without realizing it, my own excitement began rising.

Now I understood why jazz musicians sometimes became completely absorbed and played the piano or drums like mad during solo performances.

When the rhythm fits together this perfectly, how could anyone not get excited?

"Then I'll start."

I immediately began playing the melody that had just come to mind.

It was not jazz.

Each composer has a different style, and the melody I had imagined was quite distant from jazz.

Just like how marathon runners and sprinters run differently even though both are running, my melody was closer to popular music.

But these people were turning it into jazz.

Wow.

One of our managers mouthed the word in amazement.

While I gently and brightly pressed the piano keys, instruments slipped into the spaces and gaps between the notes.

Perhaps because they had already heard the melody once, the ensemble came together instantly.

If classical music feels like telling a beautiful story to the audience, jazz feels like instruments having a conversation with one another.

"Take a breath for a moment."

At Winston's hand resting on my shoulder, I paused my playing and switched to accompaniment.

Immediately a trumpet solo appeared as if responding to the melody I had just played.

It felt like someone answering the story I had told with their own story.

"Now go back."

With the light push on my back, I continued playing again.

Perhaps five minutes passed in that whirlwind.

I removed my hands from the piano keys and smiled while looking at the other musicians.

A deep resonance lingered throughout the studio.

"This is really...."

The trombone player CJ said with a grin.

"An incredible song."

Just as we burst into cheerful laughter together with the musicians who looked satisfied with the improvisation—

Thump. Thump.

Winston Ross tapped his cane and called the engineer beyond the glass.

"Did you record it?"

"Yes."

"Let's listen."

The music began flowing through the main speakers.

"Wow...."

It was truly beyond what I had imagined.

Recordings made after tens of thousands of practice repetitions are impressive, but improvisation has its own charm.

"Have you decided on the title?"

At Winston Ross's question, I nodded.

"It's a piece responding to Question, so... of course it's Answer."

"Answer."

The master of jazz nodded and smiled at me.

"Congratulations on creating a fine piece."

The musicians smiled happily.

That was fun.

The jazz musicians, who were more sincere about improvisation than anyone else, became excited and suggested:

"Shall we try it a few more times? I think we could make it even better."

"Should we?"

At those words, Wooju waved his hands.

"That's not necessary. Everyone must be tired. How about we stop here?"

"Hah!"

"That's nonsense!"

"If we started it, we should see it through!"

They were showing firm determination not to stop until the perfect result came out. ℴℴ𝘮

Camila Baker removed her lips from the saxophone reed and said:

"Think of it comfortably. We're doing it because we're enjoying it too."

"I see."

Wooju smiled at them.

"Thank you. Truly."

Then the musicians witnessed something strange.

At the words that they would help with all their strength, the corner of Wooju's lips slowly curled upward.

"Hm?"

The musicians flinched at that somewhat sinister smile, but when they blinked the smile had already disappeared.

For some reason it looked like the expression of a fisherman who had just caught a huge fish.

At first they wondered if they had imagined it.

But then they searched their memories and were shocked.

Wait a moment.

There was a face overlapping that image like a shadow.

It had been so long that only memories remained now, but Sun Myungju had left behind more than just memories.

"Shall we practice a little? Who called this torture? It should be called practice."

"Hahaha! Isn't it fun? It is fun, right? Say it's fun."

"Talent is precious. It's wrong to leave such a precious gem like talent unused."

His children, colleagues, seniors, and juniors who had experienced Sun Myungju in many ways shuddered.

Then they shook their heads.

No way. I must have seen wrong.

Even if genes are inherited, what are the chances that a son who had never witnessed his father's recording sessions would behave exactly the same?

While the musicians were thinking that, Wooju spoke quietly with a manager.

"What were you talking about?"

Raymond Irwin, the drummer, asked.

Wooju answered.

"I postponed my flight by one day."

"Ah."

"At first I asked them to rebook the ticket, but it turns out it's my private jet. Haha. Things became convenient in many ways."

"I see."

...Raymond Irwin responded, then suddenly froze.

Hm?

He asked:

"Why did you postpone the flight by one day?"

"..."

The jazz musicians felt a chill run down their spines as they saw the pop star smiling silently.

Pyeongchang, Gangwon Province.

With about two months remaining until the Winter Olympics, the Olympic organizing committee was busy preparing as usual.

"How strong is the wind?"

"It's eighteen meters per second today."

"..."

Director Kim Ikhwan, holding a walkie talkie, let out a dry laugh.

"They might get blown away by the wind, so let's postpone installing the LED panels. Tell the volunteers to wait as well."

"Yes."

"This wind needs to calm down first. Honestly."

Through the glass window that overlooked the Pyeongchang Olympic Stadium.

Director Kim Ikhwan stood in the control room at the top of the stadium, sighing while listening to the roaring wind.

"Director."

"Hm? What is it?"

"Wooju sent an email."

Director Kim Ikhwan stepped aside so others wouldn't hear and asked the staff member:

"He sent an email?"

"It seems related to the song you mentioned before."

"The song?"

Various matters floated through his mind, so it took him a moment to understand.

Ah. That one.

After Sun Myungju's final performance became a major topic, the Olympic organizers had decided to prepare a special stage.

An idea that emerged after a long meeting.

Let's connect the national star of the past with the national star of the present. Like connecting the 1988 Olympics and the 2018 Olympics. The theme of connecting the past and the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° present would be good.

With that idea, the famous director of a ten million audience film envisioned something.

The son performing his father's piece.

Then performing his own piece as the official Olympic opening ceremony begins.

What he had in mind was a NewBlack song with symbolic meaning that would also sound beautiful on piano.

"Let's see."

Returning to his office, Director Kim Ikhwan opened his laptop.

His inbox was overflowing with hundreds of unread messages accumulated in a single day.

Among them, he clicked the email sent by Lemon Entertainment.

"Hm? An original composition?"

People nearby asked.

"An original composition?"

"Looks like it. Wooju sent his father's unreleased piece and his own piece."

"Ah...."

The staff exchanged subtle smiles.

I hope it's good.

His father's unreleased composition would obviously be excellent.

But they felt somewhat uncertain about Wooju's piano piece.

Just because someone is a composing genius does not mean they excel in every field.

This was the Olympic stage.

A stage where the best music is performed, so it would be difficult to accept an ordinary piece.

In fact, the bigger problem was—

How do we refuse if the song is not good?

It was difficult to say unpleasant things to a top star whose position in Korea was unmatched at the moment.

Someone cautiously asked:

"Director. If the quality is not good...."

"Then we reject it. Don't worry."

Director Kim Ikhwan said with a smile.

"And let's not judge before hearing it. I have a feeling the song Wooju wrote will be good."

Whenever he met actors who would appear in his films, he carefully observed their traits.

Thanks to that habit, he had also grasped Sun Wooju's personality.

If he isn't certain, he doesn't step forward.

To the public he was known for his clumsy image, but in business he was extremely meticulous.

He prepared until he was completely confident.

That was why Director Kim Ikhwan had high expectations for the piece Wooju sent.

"Alright. Let's listen."

There were three files.

The first was the song written by Sun Myungju titled Question, accompanied by a message requesting careful security.

Soon the piano solo began.

It starts a bit like Moanin.

The song began with light piano like Art Blakey's piece, and the staff opened their mouths in amazement.

"Wow...."

A genius had a reason for being called a genius.

Even though it was written in 2017, it didn't feel dated at all. It was refined and elegant.

At the same time it carried a serious atmosphere suitable for the Olympic opening ceremony.

"The next one is Wooju's Answer."

"Q and A if you put them together."

Soon they played the piece Wooju had sent, and everyone's hearts began pounding.

I hope it's good.

But the tension did not last long.

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

The music connected naturally to the previous piece, almost like Sun Myungju himself had written a second part.

Of course there were differences between father and son.

While the father carried strong jazz influences, the son's composition had more of a pop atmosphere.

As soon as the track ended, someone spoke.

"Shall we listen to them back to back?"

They played Question and Answer consecutively, and the staff burst into admiration.

The music director in particular clicked his tongue.

"Wooju really prepared properly."

"Talent truly runs in the blood."

"Maybe it's true that if someone is good at one thing, they're good at others too. Wow, he brought this to life like that...."

The people who had been worried just moments ago were now eagerly talking about the bright future.

The opening ceremony director looked toward the general director.

"We could stage it like this."

"Yes. Let's go with this."

When the general director gave his approval, the staff began moving busily.

Director Kim Ikhwan remained alone and smiled.

The opening ceremony is really something to look forward to.

Songs of such high quality.

A legendary musician's son performing piano on stage as a national star.

Just as a satisfied smile appeared on the director's face, exhausted from stress—

"Ah."

Right.

"I didn't listen to this one."

The third file attached as a bonus.

It was described as a collaboration with jazz musicians like an orchestra.

Director Kim Ikhwan played the file and murmured:

"Incredible."

The sound had a richness impossible in a solo performance.

As a jazz enthusiast, Kim Ikhwan smiled happily.

This is good.

Perfect.

"But...."

Director Kim Ikhwan tilted his head while looking at the number attached to the file name.

Answer_69.wav

The number 69 at the end of the file name.

What could it mean?

"Maybe it's the recording take number? Hahaha!"

The Olympic director never imagined that might actually be the truth.

After spending wonderful time with the jazz musicians in New York.

After finishing the piece Answer for the Olympics, I returned to Korea feeling lighthearted.

"It was fun."

"Do you know what it feels like to be hit by a saxophone? If you're unlucky you might find out, Wooju."

"Yes. Sun Myungju was that kind of person...."

Thank you, musicians.

I smiled warmly while recalling how exhausted they looked when the final perfect performance came out.

Another day where I gained a song and lost some friends.

But that's fine.

"Because I have you guys!"

I spread my arms and ran toward the younger members resting in the practice room.

"Hyung!"

"Guys!"

"I missed you!"

"Me too!"

We hugged tightly while exchanging lies we didn't really mean.

"So, did you realize how precious your hyung is now?"

"No."

First I handed the limited edition hero movie figure to the ungrateful Jiho.

"I think I finally realized how precious you are!"

"Yes. And thanks to you, your hyung received emotional wounds."

"Oh my~ our hyung is so cute!"

Smiling warmly, I gave everyone the gifts I had prepared.

A Christmas sweater that looked like it came from Harry Potter for Biju.

Various snacks for Junhyun.

"A pop up book!"

Someone even blushed bright red with excitement while looking at the pop up book recommended for children under thirteen.

The reactions definitely made buying gifts worthwhile.

After setting aside the gifts for Kim Deoksun, Taehyun, and Hanjo, I shared updates with the younger members.

"...So that's how I made the song Answer."

"That's amazing."

I told them stories about my time with the jazz musicians.

"We didn't really do anything."

"We just practiced the whole time."

The younger members talked about their past two days, but apparently nothing special had happened.

"Ah, but that came out. The Billboard year end rankings."

"Year end rankings?"

Apparently Billboard releases lists every December like Hot 100 of the year and Artist of the year.

It turned out we ranked for the first time.

Metro, which was released in August, entered the Top 20, and our name also appeared in the Top Artist ranking.

"That's good."

It felt like we had taken a good first step in the United States as a rookie boy group.

Biju asked with a smile:

"What was it like in America? Did people recognize you?"

"Some people recognized me, but more people reacted coolly than being surprised."

"Really?"

"Yes. New York people seem cool. Even if they see a celebrity they just react like, oh okay."

The younger members nodded.

Stretching, I smiled.

"We have to work harder next year."

"Yes."

Biju nodded with a smile.

At the same time.

A video was becoming popular on a short video platform that had recently started trending in the United States.

[When you meet a star while walking]

That caption appeared in the middle of the screen.

"I know you."

A group of people casually speaks to a handsome man walking down a street in New York.

The leader of NewBlack waves and says "Hi."

They wave back coolly.

And the moment Wooju turns and disappears—

"Ahhh!"

"Oh my god!"

"That's a celebrity!"

The Americans begin screaming silently in excitement.

The video ends with them staring wide eyed at each other.

Someone watched the video repeatedly.

"This is nice...."

"What is? Biju?"

"Nothing, hyung."

Rainalcohol, who had been watching every moment of his favorite star in America, quickly hid his identity.

Then he deleted the bookmarked video link.

"Alright! Let's become even more famous!"

"More famous!"

As the members prepared to practice for the year end stage, shouting with determination, Biju smiled brightly.

This will be our secret.

Today as well, the hidden mastermind of NewBlack was smiling brightly.