God of Piano

＜ Seeds for what (1) ＞

“Hey. Do you like coffee or tea?”

“coffee.”

“Do you like cats? Do you like dogs?”

“······Both are not good, but if you have to argue, is it a dog?”

“Do you want to go out downtown with me this weekend?”

“LA? Going back and forth seems like a waste of time. How about Malibu instead?”

“······Let’s eat again? You just added ramen noodles and ate it.”

“no. But you can still eat crepes.”

My conversations with Kate were usually like that.

It wasn’t a very nutritious conversation, but Rowoon didn’t hate the conversation so much in the sense that a conversation between a man and a woman is more meaningful when it’s not nutritious.

‘······Well, good baby.’

Looking at Kate, who was drinking coffee, Rowoon thought so in his heart. Of course, I knew it wouldn’t last long. Will they love each other enough to overcome the distance when they stick to the colleges of their respective dreams and drift away from each other?

Rowoon already knew the answer. Of course, it was pretty obvious that he didn’t love her very much, seeing as the answer didn’t particularly depress him. It’s Kate, so I don’t think I’ll be particularly depressed at that time.

Rowoon carefully examined Kate’s face. Narrow but high nose bridge. small chin. Compared to being skinny, the jawline feels light somewhere. Deep-skinned lips, dark eyes that seemed to shine somewhere.

The more he looked, the more his face resembled Sand. To the point where I wondered if Sand was among my distant ancestors.

And the girl who looked like Sand grunted.

“Why was Chopin born?”

“A pianist shouldn’t say that.”

Rowoon giggled and said. Kate rested her chin on the table and tousled her hair. He looked like an outcast, but that was also cute.

“It’s very difficult. Why did I say that I would sing a ballad…”

“Why don’t you listen to me? Then maybe I can give you some feedback.”

“It’s to the point where I don’t need to give feedback. I know all too well what I lack.”

“hmm.”

Rowoon nodded and was silent. Actually, I had accidentally stole Kate’s performance in the practice building, but I didn’t feel the need to mention it.

‘What level is Kate’s playing?’

I was certain it wouldn’t be higher than that. Through long practice, her playing has become much more orderly. But that was it. It was difficult for her to properly bring out her own color and even the intention of the performer.

A performance that seems to have lost its way somewhere. The impression Kate gave me was just that.

Maybe Kate knows that too. So that would be the attitude. Rowoon stopped talking and looked at Kate. she was pretty More now than when I first saw it. The more she looked into it, the more beautiful it seemed, even the ugliness that I once thought marred her beauty.

‘······Am I getting attached to it?’

I do not know. However, Rowoon was able to answer with certainty that this was not love. He read Chopin’s journal. I realized the quiet and deep love he had for Sand. As someone who knew that love, Rowoon couldn’t possibly call this mild crush I had as love.

While thinking that, it was when Rowoon was fiddling with his Walkman. Kate’s eyes fell on the table and landed on the Walkman. And she asked a long-held question.

“But why are you using that Walkman? The sound quality of the tape is a bit disappointing, and the size is too big. Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“… Ah, this.”

Rowoon hesitated for a moment. And he answered briefly.

“My mom gave it to me as a gift when I was little.”

“Oh sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. Because it’s okay.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Kate straightened up and sat down, and Rowoon put the Walkman in his pocket. And naturally, the topic changed.

“Have you thought about Chopin?”

“huh?”

“The life of Chopin. When he wrote that song, what kind of feelings, what kind of situation was he in, what he was thinking about. happy or unhappy Things like that.”

“… uh, not at all?”

“Think about it. It will help. Knowing is always better than not knowing.”

Kate thought for a moment without answering immediately. Then he nodded his head with a serious expression.

“······You’re right. Better to know than not to know.”

And he jumped up. She smiled, as if feeling better.

“good! Then I’ll have to do some research. I’ll go first. Call me later!”

There was no time for Rowoon to say hello. It seemed that the stimulation came more than expected. Looking blankly at her back as she hurriedly walked away with her bag, Rowoon immediately smiled.

I usually thought she was pretty, but ironically, that busy back was the brightest thing I’d ever seen of her.

‘······Then I’ll try to clean things up soon, too.’

Rowoon took out a pen. And he started writing down his current situation in a notebook.

1. Chopin, Prelude No. 4. Performance score 57 points.

2. Chopin, Dog Waltz. Performance score 63 points. Performance log homework is still in progress.

3. Bach, Goldberg Variations. Average performance score of 58.

Now, all the songs have matured to some extent. Although the score did not rise easily from around 60 points, nevertheless, Baum was always satisfied somewhere after his performance. It seems that this is enough.

‘Shouldn’t it be better to sell out a little more for Prelude No. 4?’

In terms of simple scores, the Goldberg Variations would seem closer, but it wasn’t. Unlike the composition log, the performance log of the Goldberg Variations was not separate for each variation and aria.

Raising Goldberg to 60 points, with a play time of about an hour, was several times more difficult than raising 4 times to 60 points. That’s why if you want to get Jung’s performance log, it was right to do it with Prelude No. 4.

‘Well, I shouldn’t be too attached to the journal.’

It has been several months now that I have been using the Walkman. Rowoon understood to some degree that the more he focused on the Walkman’s ability itself, the harder it would be to benefit from it.

Therefore, the conclusion was, as always, practice. Rowoon moved his feet and headed for the practice building, and after a while, contrary to his original plan, he had no choice but to stop in the hallway and look into a practice room.

‘······ Gregor.’

A Goldberg Variation that now allows you to recall the notes from beginning to end without looking at the sheet music. However, Gregor’s variation was different from the one Rowoon remembered in many ways. Goldberg was created with a different mindset and a different practice process. If so, that was even weirder.

‘It’s certainly neat, but…’

When it comes to simple basics, Gregor’s skills are not inferior to Rowoon’s. Of course, Rowoon’s touch and expression were more delicate and deeper if only in the Goldberg Variations, but those with a good understanding of the piano would recognize Gregor’s value without difficulty.

But that made it a more disappointing performance. Gregor’s skill was felt, but everything Bach had while writing this song was not included.

I do Bach’s music, but I don’t think about Bach. And no one takes issue with him. Is it really that good? Can their music be complete even in the absence of a story?

That was when I was thinking about it. I could feel the gaze. It was not Gregor’s. he was still playing

“What are you doing?”

“…”

It was Luther. He was looking at him with a dissatisfied expression. With no reason to answer, Rowoon hurried his stopped steps. As he passed Luther, he asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re saying that you’re doing well these days, so you can’t hear people say sh*t like me anymore, right?”

“······Luther. Why the f*ck are you looking at me like this?”

“what?”

“I don’t know what you think of yourself or what drama is in your head, but I don’t want to be involved in it. So I hope you don’t even think about dragging me into your dissatisfied life. Do you understand?”

“you······!”

“And, I never called you a dick.”

Rowoon looked at Luther as if he was fed up.

“If anyone says that to you, it’s probably you. How do I take my anger out on you? Stop holding the live person.”

Luther made a very strange expression for a moment. I had a lot to say, but I couldn’t open my lips as if I had nothing to say in return.

I didn’t want to wait for his answer. Rowoon left for the practice room. Maybe thanks to finally pouring out the words I always wanted to say, my fingers touching the keys were lighter than usual.

It was the same when taking lessons. Baum listened to Rowoon’s performance and nodded with a satisfied expression.

“It’s time to start recording soon.”

This meant that it was about time to choose a performance file to upload to the app. It also meant that it was a difficult stage to go further. Rowoon understood Baum. Now he can put almost all of his skills into these songs. Maybe that’s why the score has been slow to rise lately.

‘······As long as we don’t get the performance log, nothing will change.’

And as of now, the only possibility of obtaining the performance log is Prelude #4.

Although he was determined not to obsess over Walkman’s ability, it was inevitable that Rowoon’s attention would be more focused on number 4.

Rowoon replayed Chopin’s composition journal over and over again. I recorded his performance several more times, and each time I looked at his shortcomings pointed out by the correction notes.

His skills have already been exhausted. okay. But it’s not impossible to develop. Unlike his skill, his teacher’s skill, Chopin’s skill, has yet to be used even in part.

[When I wrote this song, it was Bach that came to my mind. ]

Recall the words of Chopin. As he said, Prelude No. 4 was a song that showed some of Bach’s colors.

[ A good song is bound to make the audience cry, and a good musician is bound to be revealed even if he tries to hide himself. ]

[That’s why I’m not shabby every day, even if I’m going to rot on this shabby island. ]

[Because I know that even if Bach is forgotten after his death, I will also be like that, just as he eventually resurfaced in the flow of history. ]

[ But, do you have such music? ]

‘There will be none. maybe.’

So you can’t rest.

Practice continues. They hit the keys so much that their fingers tingle, and the sheet music becomes rags as it falls into the swamp of copying and handwriting.

but it’s not painful Compared to Bach and Chopin, it is not enough. He is a star that is still lacking in light, as he thinks that history will definitely pay attention to him.

But knowing that I am getting brighter,