Chapter 793: Question (14)

After the father's remark telling him to eat properly ended—

The jazz band that had come up onto the stage began to play a lively tune.

The title of the piece was "Bagel and Coffee."

It was a song whose origin had been written in the journal Sun Myungju left behind.

—A rainy day in New York. Ate a bagel and coffee.

The drums scattered softly like falling raindrops, and the sound of the saxophone flowed in like a warm cup of coffee.

The piece was set in 1994.

Yet even now, twenty four years later, it did not feel out of place at all.

No—

If anything, it felt like a brand new song.

"Wow..."

Our youngest, sitting beside me, leaned forward with wide eyes.

It seemed he liked the first song already.

Seeing the expression on his face—like a child who had discovered a sparkling pebble by the water—I felt strangely proud.

"..."

The atmosphere among the other people around us was similar.

I turned my head slightly and looked at the audience.

From the very first song, everyone was completely absorbed, mouths slightly open.

It was simply that immersive of an opening piece.

I could understand why my father had chosen this song as the first one.

I was clearly sitting in the Seoul Arts Center in Seocho District, listening to the music.

Yet as the song continued, it felt as though I were actually sitting in a New York café eating a bagel and drinking coffee.

A foggy metropolis.

Headlights scattering light through the mist.

The deep aroma of coffee spreading through the air.

Listening to those sounds that stimulated the senses, I found myself admiring it once again.

"Hyung."

When the first piece ended and applause began to flow out, Jiho leaned toward me and whispered.

"This is insane. Seriously."

"Right?"

"Wow, do I actually like jazz? I thought it wasn't my thing."

When an incredible score met incredible performers, the result could only be extraordinary.

Applause burst out from the very first piece.

With my father's remarks interspersed between them, the songs began to flow one after another.

"How do young people confess their love these days? Do students still leave letters in each other's lockers?"

A piece called "Love," about a shy confession, followed.

"I tried writing a song about forgetfulness. But the funny thing is, I don't remember why I wrote this piece. You could say the title and the intention match perfectly."

Even before the music began, the introduction alone made the audience laugh.

The piece titled "Forgetfulness" received loud applause and cheers.

The atmosphere gradually heated up.

It was not solemn.

Everyone was laughing, enjoying themselves, and listening to the music.

So this was how a concert should really be done.

When we were preparing for it, I had been so busy planning things while watching the videos my father had left behind that I had no time to think.

But now that I was experiencing the performance from the audience's perspective, I could see the flow of it.

It felt like looking at a musical score.

The introduction began gently, drawing in people's attention.

Then the scale gradually rose higher and higher.

Even in the middle of that, the control of tempo was perfect—lifting the audience up and letting them down again...

"Hyung."

When one piece ended, the youngest whispered to me.

"We should use Father's remarks too. During our concerts."

"Good idea. Let's steal them once everyone forgets."

Sometimes when you hear a song that's too good, you feel the urge to imitate it.

Watching my father's performance, I could see things worth adopting.

That it was not always the strongest and most stimulating stage that was best.

That controlling the pace was important.

That the audience needed moments to rest.

Before my eyes was the ideal performance from a senior musician who had more than ten years of experience beyond me.

"..."

"..."

It wasn't just me.

My younger members were also watching the performance with serious expressions.

There was simply that much to learn.

But what we paid the most attention to was not the pacing of the performance, the arrangement of songs, or the showmanship.

It was his attitude toward his fans.

 That was the year the old fandom known as the Sun Myungju Fan Club first appeared in Korea.

People had long heard that he was gaining fame in the United States and Japan.

But it had taken time before a fandom emerged.

"People are too busy trying to make a living to go looking up a pianist's music."

That was the atmosphere among many people.

And it was not like today, where one search on MyTube would pour out endless footage of overseas activities.

Back then people only encountered such things through newspapers or television news.

Yet even in that era, the members of the Sun Myungju fan club somehow managed to find materials and devote themselves to their fandom.

"We are your fans."

They simply liked him.

The fact that an Asian musician was succeeding overseas was only one of many charms.

They liked Sun Myungju himself.

His music.

His philosophy about music.

The charm of the person called Sun Myungju who encompassed all of it.

"You're my fans?"

When people came to greet him at Gimpo Airport holding bouquets of flowers, Sun Myungju gave the brightest smile anyone had ever seen from him.

Then he asked them,

"Then will you continue to be my fans from now on?"

They answered yes.

For six years after the fan club was formed, it was the happiest time for the fans.

Although he had been pushed out of the American mainstream music scene, Sun Myungju was still a globally successful musician.

And he remained active in Korea, even holding free concerts.

People even said that if a few more years had passed, there might have been a talk show named after him, "The Sun Myungju Show," like those hosted by top celebrities at the time.

The memories of following him to free concerts in major cities such as Seoul, Daejeon, Daegu, Gwangju, and Busan were still vivid.

But—

"This is truly heartbreaking news. Musician Sun Myungju and..."

November 9, 1999.

The scenes from the news broadcast of that day remained vivid in their memories.

From that day forward, the fan club's activities were suspended.

Occasionally a few people who got along would gather for drinks.

But that was all.

Of course, their fandom did not disappear entirely.

—Sun Myungju Best Album.

On rainy days or when they were bored, they would play a CD and go about their day.

Driving while listening.

And so time passed.

Twenty years.

A fan who had once been a high school student was now a father of two.

A fan who had once been a new office worker now held the title of department manager, wrinkles forming on his face.

A middle aged teacher was approaching retirement.

The only thing that remained unchanged was their artist.

He existed only through videos and photographs.

And then one day—

"I heard that's a rookie group that sang Something recently. Apparently one of the members has a really famous father."

"They're really popular these days."

"I heard Wooju's father is really famous."

Each person encountered Sun Wooju on television at a different time.

When he appeared on Haseungju's Music Cafe and talked about his father.

When NewBlack gradually rose to popularity.

Watching his face appear everywhere in advertisements and on television, they felt a strange sense of familiarity.

"Huh?"

There was a very familiar face there.

An idol who resembled his father strongly in his features, but inherited his mother's elegant beauty.

When they looked at the portal profile that listed Father: Sun Myungju, they felt the passage of time deeply.

"Has it really been that long?"

The small child who had once been Sun Myungju's son had grown into a man in his twenties.

At first he had taken over the domestic music industry.

Now he was even aiming overseas.

They had quietly supported him from behind as Sun Wooju appeared everywhere—variety shows, advertisements, MyTube.

"At the very least, I probably paid for Wooju's baby formula."

Watching him like a son or nephew they had raised through the internet—

They eventually reunited.

The Sun Myungju fan club, which had been quiet since the 2000s, began chatting occasionally.

They met offline and laughed awkwardly.

They continued their small activities like classical music enthusiasts.

Then one day—

"Look at this!"

A link was urgently posted in the group chat where Sun Myungju fans had gathered.

"Allow me to properly greet you once again, everyone. I, Sun Myungju, have returned."

The shock of that day could never be forgotten.

How could they forget?

Their artist had returned after twenty years and announced that he would hold one final concert.

And even more astonishing—

"Wooju recently held a charity event in the United States and raised enough money for what could practically be a world tour."

"What? This isn't ticketing? They're doing a national lottery?"

"No way..."

The scale had grown far beyond anything they imagined.

What might have been a small farewell performance for fans had become one of the hottest topics in the global jazz world.

"Wooju...!"

The fans stamped their feet in frustration.

There was nothing they could do.

It felt shameless to call Lemon Entertainment and say, "We're the fan club, could we get some tickets?"

Just as they were resigning themselves to applying for the lottery—

"You are invited to my father's concert."

Sun Wooju's invitation arrived.

They felt dazed.

And happy.

Every day felt joyful.

It was like the long awaited sequel to a beloved movie was about to be released—

No, it was happiness far beyond that.

And now—

The fans who had arrived at the concert hall were finally experiencing that joy.

Sniff.

"Don't cry. I'm going to cry too."

Ahem.

They tried hard to hold back their emotions because of the people around them.

But tears and runny noses kept coming one after another.

When a former high school fan began sobbing loudly—

A fan who was now a construction company department manager gently dabbed his own eyes with a handkerchief and handed it over.

"Ha..."

Hearing the sigh of a nearby audience member, the fans quickly glanced around and tried to suppress their crying again.

"Why am I like this?"

"I don't know either."

Nothing particularly emotional had happened.

Yet tears kept flowing.

Even knowing that the video had been recorded twenty years earlier—

It felt as though he were speaking to them alive.

"How was the music you have heard so far? Did you enjoy the pieces in Part One?"

As they answered in their hearts—

Sun Myungju crossed his legs.

"I thought simply listening to music might become too boring. Shall we take a short break?"

The scene changed.

Another familiar face appeared.

The woman who had passed on her soft and brilliant beauty to Sun Wooju.

Sun Myungju's partner.

"It's Myeongeun."

Lee Myeongeun, who had always accompanied him as a cellist during his performances, sat facing Sun Myungju.

It felt like a small segment within the show.

Perhaps inspired by American television programs, Lee Myeongeun held cue cards like a talk show host as she faced her husband.

"If I could, I would love to take questions from the audience. But that would be impossible, wouldn't it?"

As people chuckled quietly, Sun Myungju answered questions he had prepared in advance.

Why was this performance prepared?

What moment in his life as a musician remained most memorable?

Did he ever have a rival?

"No. Many people claim to be my rivals, but there has never been anyone whose musical achievements were truly comparable to mine."

Sun Myungju answered boldly—things he might have avoided saying during his lifetime to prevent controversy.

Listening to those answers, his fans murmured softly.

Now everything made sense.

Why he had acted in certain ways in the past.

Why he had said certain things.

The puzzle pieces were fitting together.

For ordinary audience members it was simply interesting.

But the fans listened with sparkling eyes.

Finally—

"If there is one last thing you would like to say about this concert?"

At his wife's question, Sun Myungju fell silent for a moment.

As if choosing his words carefully.

Then he nodded.

"I would like to leave a message for my fans."

The moment the word fans appeared, one former high school fan burst into tears.

Sun Myungju smiled.

"I would like to greet my fans who are watching this video. At least one of them must be in that concert hall. If they are there, I want to tell them something."

He began slowly.

"First of all... my fans."

Sun Myungju gave a playful smile.

"I'm sorry. It seems I ended up leaving first."

It was not a moment to laugh.

Yet his easygoing joke caused coughs and awkward laughter to ripple through the hall.

"Twenty years."

Sun Myungju murmured.

"In those twenty years, many things must have happened. Children became adults, and adults became elders. It saddens me that I cannot hear the stories each of you carry."

He continued speaking to the fans who were silently crying.

"Thank you. Truly. For keeping someone like me in your hearts for twenty years."

So I will depart first.

Toward a journey you have not yet taken.

Watching the musician bid farewell with those words, the fans covered their eyes with both hands.

"..."

And yet, even while crying—

They did not feel sadness.

If anything, it felt closer to relief.

By finally sharing the last goodbye they had never been able to say, something that had been tightly knotted in their hearts was beginning to loosen.

"So."

His considerate voice reached them.

"Please remember me only in my best moments."

At his final request—

The fans nodded.

It was the perfect farewell.

After the Q&A session that ended Part One, the broadcast cut briefly to commercials.

Winter season advertisements played while viewers stared blankly at their screens.

"What kind of aftertaste is this?"

Even those who had never been fans of Sun Myungju felt their throats tighten with emotion.

—Why am I crying

—If there are fans in that hall today, this must be the greatest farewell and gift they could receive

—It made me laugh and then cry

—If his father filmed melodrama movies they'd easily reach ten million viewers

—Fans there must be crying for real

Clips of the moment spread across communities under titles like:

"Your favorite artist said goodbye after twenty years."

While people offline were still murmuring their impressions—

The limited advertising block ended.

Part Two began.

At first it seemed impossible that people could continue after such an emotional moment.

But—

"Huh?"

Once Part Two began, the public quickly recovered.

The lively jazz pieces.

The genius musician's witty remarks.

A stage that drew enthusiastic responses from the audience.

Gradually the excitement rose again.

And finally—

"Unfortunately, this is today's final piece."

It was time for the last song.

"I recently realized that everyone has a different way of eating a meal. For example, my wife saves the things she dislikes for the very end. On the other hand, my son and I eat the things we dislike first and save the delicious ones for last."

Sun Myungju smiled playfully.

"In that sense, I saved the best piece for last."

The number of jazz performers coming onto the stage seemed extraordinary.

"I hear that the new millennium will arrive soon. Humanity's second millennium will end, and the third will begin. Of course, for those watching this performance, it will already be the past."

The genius began speaking.

"Perhaps because it is the end of the century, I have heard many astonishing pieces of news. In Britain, a laboratory has created the world's first cloned sheep. In the United States, the Pathfinder spacecraft has finally landed on Mars..."

His clear eyes looked toward the audience beyond the camera.

"These days I find myself curious about many things. Has humanity gone to Mars? Do cars fly?"

People from the 2010s laughed at the questions of a man from the 1990s.

"There are simply too many things I am curious about. Ah, my wife is also asking from behind the camera. She wants to know what the popular dramas are these days. Recently we have been enjoying a historical drama called Tears of the Dragon."

The mention of the old drama made older viewers smile nostalgically.

Sun Myungju continued speaking.

"And perhaps the most important question. The Korea I live in right now is quite chaotic... what is Korea like twenty years later? Did you overcome the financial crisis well?"

Across the nation, viewers watching on television and people seated in the audience quietly nodded.

"What kind of country has the Republic of Korea become? Has it become a more beautiful and wonderful nation than the Korea of 1997?"

Each person answered in their hearts.

"I am truly curious about a world without me. What wonderful things have happened? What sad things have happened? Still... if it is a world twenty years later, it must surely be more beautiful than my world, mustn't it?"

His questions continued calmly.

"Has peace come to the world?"

"Are children now living happily without suffering from hunger and poverty?"

"Has your daily life improved?"

As those difficult questions drew the audience's focus—

"The piece I will play now contains those very questions."

At the signal of the genius musician placing his hands on the piano—

The performers lifted their instruments.

"Question."

Sun Myungju smiled and bowed.

"This is my final piece."