Chapter 792: Question (13)

What greeted the audience as they entered the concert hall was a massive screen.

A video was playing on the screen installed behind the stage set.

"Eh?"

"What is this, did it start already?"

At first they thought the performance had begun, but they quickly realized that was not the case.

There was no one on the stage, and the music coming from the video sounded nothing like jazz.

"What is this?"

The audience members who had taken their seats stared at the screen.

A man seated at a piano was playing with the beach behind him.

Wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the man calmly played the piano, his face radiating an intellectual kind of handsomeness.

"He's really handsome..."

"What a striking look."

While that atmosphere lingered, the seats gradually filled with more and more audience members.

"Hm?"

The piece that had been flowing gently suddenly stopped.

As if he had been watching the situation in the hall, Sun Myungju lifted his fingers away from the piano.

"Wow. Goosebumps."

Of course, it was staged.

The video had been edited by Sun Myungju's son, carefully calculating the time it would take for the audience to enter and take their seats.

They had even rehearsed with the concert hall staff to measure the timing precisely before filming it.

But the audience had no way of knowing that.

To them, it felt as if Sun Myungju himself had been watching them.

"..."

Sometimes silence attracts more attention than sound.

All eyes focused on the man sitting quietly before the piano.

Soon, Sun Myungju's arm slowly rose, and the audience's gaze gathered at the tips of his fingers.

[♩♪♬♪♬]

The pianist played a simple melody.

It was a song every citizen in the country knew.

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?"

Mozart's "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star Variations" flowed from his fingertips.

At first the piece began with an extremely simple melody.

But as the variations continued, they grew more and more complex, and the melody that began as a tiny star gradually transformed into a dazzling night sky.

"Wooow..."

Just as the audience, captivated by the performance, let out soft exclamations and smiles—

The performer finished the piece and glanced briefly toward the camera.

Then he winked at them and smiled.

"Oh my."

The audience members instinctively covered their mouths with shy smiles.

And then another piece began to play.

"Hm?"

At first the audience tilted their heads, wondering if they had misheard something.

But soon they burst into quiet laughter.

It was the piano version of "Southbound Train."

A beloved national hit that everyone knew began to play, the accompaniment sounding almost like a karaoke machine.

Sun Myungju gestured toward the camera.

As if telling them to sing along.

The audience began murmuring the lyrics.

The murmurs gradually grew louder, and by the middle of the song the entire hall was singing the chorus together like a mass chant.

"Hahahaha!"

"Ha ha ha!"

The sight of a national singalong echoing through the Seoul Arts Center made everyone burst into embarrassed laughter.

Laughter spread throughout the hall.

At the same time, a sense of excitement and joy rarely seen in traditional art performances began to fill the air.

"This is fun."

It was completely different from the atmosphere the audience had expected.

The final performance prepared by a genius from twenty years ago.

Because of that, many had arrived with solemn and reverent hearts.

Yet it felt as though Sun Myungju was telling them something.

—I will entertain you.

The video conveyed the musician's consideration and philosophy.

There was no need to be overly tense.

This was just music.

So please listen to it as music.

As if those words were echoing faintly in their ears, Sun Myungju's fingers continued moving without pause.

The accompaniment of famous songs such as "By the Moonlit Window" and "Let's Go on a Trip" followed, and the singing grew even livelier.

"No wonder he was a star."

He was someone who truly knew how to shine.

Whenever the audience reached a point where they were enjoying themselves, the handsome pianist would pause slightly or smile mischievously, making them laugh along with him.

And while they were laughing like that—

"Eh?"

The lighting slowly began to change, and performers started walking onto the stage.

"What?"

"Wait, the time..."

"I think it's starting now."

The time they would normally have spent bored while staring at their phones had passed in an instant.

As the audience stared blankly at their phones and wristwatches—

Swoosh.

Sun Myungju finally finished playing.

The handsome man rose from his seat and bowed politely toward them.

The video ended.

"Waaaaaa!"

The main performance had not even begun yet, but applause for the star of the night was already pouring out.

A villa overlooking the beach.

In the living room, where salty wind drifted in through the open windows, a man bowed politely.

"..."

Sun Myungju lifted his eyes slightly.

"Did it record?"

"Yes."

"Phew..."

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Sun Myungju collapsed back onto the piano bench.

"Ah, that was exhausting."

"Good work."

A beautiful woman in a flowing dress handed him a glass of water.

"Here, have some water, husband."

"I am deeply honored, my lady."

The married couple burst into laughter.

Their honeymoon had long passed, yet they still carried the atmosphere of newlyweds.

After gulping down the water, Sun Myungju felt his wife's arms wrap gently around him from behind.

"But why are you filming this video?"

"To relax the audience before the concert."

Sun Myungju answered calmly.

"People always come in really tense before a performance. If they think it's jazz, they feel like they have to listen with intense focus."

"That's true. We're like that too when we go to classical concerts."

"Exactly."

He stroked the back of his wife's hand.

"But music is just music. I don't think people need to tense up just because it's jazz."

After all, wasn't music originally created for human enjoyment?

Long ago, primitive humans had danced around bonfires, shaking their bodies joyfully while banging bones or shells against the ground.

That must have been the origin of music.

Over time it became more refined, turning into instruments like pianos, guitars, and drums, and eventually dividing into genres.

But in his view, the essence of music was joy.

"So that's why I prepared a video like this. To tell the audience that there's no need to feel tense before the performance. The music I'm about to play isn't really that different from the popular songs they've always enjoyed."

"I see."

Lee Myeongeun nodded before asking her husband another question.

"But when the time comes, will people even recognize the songs you're playing now?"

"...I hadn't thought about that."

"It's twenty years later. By then everyone will probably have forgotten these old songs."

The year twenty years later would be 2017.

Even the coming new millennium still didn't feel real yet, so the number 2017 felt completely unimaginable.

Or perhaps by the time the concert happened, it might even be 2018.

"2018... that doesn't feel real at all. By then cars might even be flying."

"Whoa..."

The couple laughed as their imaginations ran wild.

Children traveling to Paris, France on school trips after the country became advanced.

Families taking trips into space.

Sun Myungju said to his wife,

"When Mars tours become available, should we try going?"

"We should take Wooju with us. Oh, and we have to bring Mom too... though I feel like she'd refuse."

"Well, your mother-in-law's taste..."

Perhaps because they were people with such similar temperaments, the casual chatter between Sun Myungju and Lee Myeongeun went on endlessly.

"But."

Lee Myeongeun fiddled with her fingers.

"Do we really need to film even these small videos? It's footage we'll probably never use anyway..."

"If we're going to prepare, we should prepare everything properly."

"It just makes me uneasy..."

"Don't worry too much. This is really just in case."

Seeing his wife nod slightly, it seemed the act of recording such videos itself felt ominous to her.

Even so, she followed his wishes.

Sun Myungju felt grateful.

But he had his own reasons for pushing forward with preparations like this.

"I have to prepare for the worst."

He was the type who could not feel at ease unless everything was prepared from beginning to end.

Because he knew very well what could happen when "the worst case" actually occurred.

His parents' sudden deaths.

Relatives causing the family fortune to disappear.

A harsh life drifting between orphanages without anyone to protect him.

His wife understood well why her husband had developed a personality that bordered on obsessive planning.

"Shall we prepare to film the next video?"

"Okay."

While Lee Myeongeun walked over to adjust the camera on the tripod—

Sun Myungju looked toward the sky beyond the beach.

He strained his eyes as if trying to see something beyond the bright sky.

"Twenty years later..."

He could barely imagine ten years ahead, let alone twenty.

If this video were ever used twenty years later, where would his concert be prepared?

How many people would gather?

No—

Would the concert even be able to happen?

"Ha ha."

The moment he thought of his only son, he couldn't help but laugh.

His son, who resembled his mother so much that he tripped and fell every few steps.

Utterly uncoordinated.

"I wish he'd inherited that part from me..."

Smiling, he thought that perhaps the special talent he possessed simply wasn't something that could be inherited.

Still, thinking of Wooju made him smile.

His son was five years old now.

Twenty years later, that son would have just been discharged from the military and would probably be in his final semester of university.

Would that son really be capable of preparing a concert like this?

"If it does happen... I should be grateful just that it happens at all."

It would be wonderful if it were a success.

But could something like that really—

Crash!

A loud sound of something breaking and falling came from the yard.

Sun Myungju and Lee Myeongeun jumped to their feet.

"Wooju!"

"Wooju!"

They rushed outside toward their five-year-old son who had begun crying loudly.

Their son sat on the dirt ground, crying loudly for his mom and dad.

Apparently he had been startled by a bug no bigger than his finger.

"Oh dear..."

Running toward his son, Sun Myungju let out a helpless laugh.

When will our son ever grow up?

"Hello. I'm Sun Wooju."

"Thank you so much for inviting me. It's an honor."

I shook hands politely with the president of Sun Myungju's fan club who had approached me.

Then I guided them to their seats.

Guests continued to arrive without pause.

"Hello! Wow, it really is Mr. Wooju..."

"I'm truly happy to have been invited. Ha ha!"

"Coming to watch your father's concert is really..."

If Seokhwan hadn't been whispering people's names into my ear from beside me—

Even with my pride in my memory, I would have been confused by the number of guests.

There were specially invited guests, as well as government officials from the arts sector.

I repeated greetings endlessly.

"Hyung."

Biju handed me a handkerchief.

"You should wipe your sweat."

"Thanks, Biju."

I wiped my forehead and fanned myself with my hand.

Ri Hyuk handed me a portable fan.

"You look really hot. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"I told you this morning. You should wear something lighter."

The suit and tie were a bit warm, but my mood couldn't have been better.

It was the day I had waited and waited for.

My heart felt excited like I had received a birthday present.

I kept grinning for no reason.

"Hyung, more guests are coming."

"Oh, okay."

At Junhyun's alert—he had been standing lookout like a meerkat—I straightened my posture again and went out to greet them with handshakes.

After finishing the final greetings—

"Grandma."

"Oh, you're here."

I sat beside my grandmother together with my younger siblings.

She was reading the pamphlet through a pair of reading glasses.

[His Last Vow]

The pamphlet had a black cover with my father's figure formed out of constellations.

It listed my father's biography and the performers who would be playing in today's concert.

The youngest giggled.

"Hyung, but this totally feels like a concert."

"You're right."

My siblings and I laughed.

Normally when we enter somewhere there would be cheers or commotion.

But now the audience didn't even realize we had come in.

Every time the pianist in the video played a piece of popular music, the audience kept singing along.

It was just like when a music video played at our concerts and the Souffle sang along.

"Hey, are these kinds of performances usually like this?"

"No, Grandma. Dad's concert is just unusual."

"I see."

Paul Laurent and Winston Ross were also watching the reactions of the audience around them and laughing as if they couldn't help themselves.

Each of them looked lost in memories.

After glancing at them, I turned my gaze back to the screen.

As the performers hurried onto the stage, our eyes met, and I smiled and nodded.

It was time for the main performance to begin.

PBS public broadcasting, Channel 1.

The broadcaster had launched a massive promotional campaign ahead of Sun Myungju's concert.

"Wow..."

"Is this for real?"

PBS staff sitting in the control room stared in disbelief at the real-time ratings graph climbing higher and higher.

"Is this the NewBlack effect?"

"I heard that fishing show recently blew up too just because NewBlack was mentioned."

Sun Wooju was practically repaying his father with television ratings.

Internally they had expected the program to perform well.

But they had never imagined numbers this high.

If there were a goddess of ratings, it felt like she had just winked at them.

"...It's breaking records before it even starts."

The ratings were soaring like a chart breaking through the roof.

And meanwhile, netizens were waiting with anticipation.

—Wow look at the number of ads today

—All the big companies showed up

—I wish it would start already haha

—heart pounding

—Why am I this excited about this

It was weekend lunchtime.

Everywhere televisions were turned on, they were tuned to PBS Channel 1.

Subway passengers crossing an iron bridge connected through live streaming.

Cafes, billiard halls, train stations, restaurants—

Everywhere people switched channels to watch Sun Myungju's final concert.

"Oh! It's starting."

"Turn the volume up a bit. I can't hear anything."

The sound of the crowd at the venue flowed in along with the caption:

[Live Broadcast from the Seoul Arts Center]

—What?

—Why does it sound... excited?

—??

—This is not the atmosphere I expected

Instead of the quiet, formal atmosphere typical of classical concerts—

It sounded noisy and lively.

Then someone posted a link.

[Live Seoul Arts Center]

Southbound Train

—LOOOOOOOL

—Father knows how to have fun

—Suddenly he feels relatable LOL

—This is the real Korean vibe

—Seeing him suddenly play Southbound Train makes me understand like father like son

—The audience singalong is insane

—If I were PBS I would've broadcast this part earlier. The station has no sense

—Wow the eye contact timing was crazy

—Wooju I'm sorry but I think your father is becoming my favorite

—If I'm a Souffle because I'm a fan of the son, what do I have to be to be a fan of the father?

—How about Surstromming

—Get lost

—I hope nobody actually searches Surstromming after seeing this... blegh

Watching the video of Sun Myungju enthusiastically playing a medley of popular songs, the lively atmosphere at the venue suddenly made perfect sense.

When the audience had already been singing together for over thirty minutes before the show even started, how could anyone not get excited?

While people scolded the broadcasting station for not airing this earlier—

The actual broadcast finally began.

As the performers entered the venue and took their positions—

"Wow."

The darkened stage revealed a set that looked like a real jazz club from overseas, complete with neon lighting.

Pzzzzt.

With a crackling sound effect, Sun Myungju appeared on the screen above the stage, and cheers erupted from the venue.

"Hello, audience members. The day has finally arrived."

The handsome man seated at the piano smiled and asked them,

"How was the weather today? Was it cold? Or was it hot? Was it inconvenient coming to the concert hall?"

Everyone answered in their hearts.

Then Sun Myungju continued.

"I thought a lot about how I should begin my greeting. But since we are Koreans, there is one greeting that should always come first. Have you all eaten?"

Laughter spread through the concert hall.

Across the country, millions laughed along.

"I wondered what to choose for the first piece. Then I thought perhaps something related to a meal would be appropriate."

As he said that, the father looked toward the camera and added,

"Oh, and son. If you happen to be watching this video in the concert hall, make sure you eat your meals properly."

The audience burst into laughter at the father's comment that his child never ate properly.

The broadcast camera captured Sun Wooju looking awkwardly into the distance while the members beside him giggled.

Paul Laurent and Winston Ross, seated nearby, were laughing loudly as well.

—LOOOOOOL

—Scolding his son in front of the whole nation

—If the father had known the concert would be this big he probably wouldn't have said that LOL

—That's adorable

—Everything about this is cute

—The atmosphere is totally different from what I imagined but I like it

People had expected the concert to begin with a solemn atmosphere, as if declaring:

"Now admire my magnificent music."

Instead—

The performance was beginning in a completely different mood from what anyone had imagined.