Translator: Dreamscribe
The curtain calls continued.
Lawrence disappeared backstage and reappeared five or six times, but the audience's standing ovation showed no sign of stopping.
Led by the Maestro's hand, Gyeo-ul stepped forward to the front of the stage.
Receiving the pouring spotlight head-on, the two of them bowed their heads. Perhaps because of the passionate performance, a few strands of her neatly pinned-up hair had come loose and clung to her neck, but even that looked as though it had been deliberately staged. Gyeo-ul was hauntingly beautiful.
Clap, clap, clap!
The lingering resonance of the stage had not yet faded.
Once again, she took Lawrence's hand and bowed gracefully at the waist.
Whoooaaa-
Listening to the audience's cheers, Lawrence spoke.
"Gyeo-ul, it seems the audience has no intention of letting you go just yet."
Lawrence motioned toward the seats with his chin and laughed. Just as he said, instead of gathering their coats, the audience was cheering as though spellbound.
For the discerning ears of New York to display such open longing was a sight even Lawrence had witnessed only a few times in his entire life.
"Could you do one more piece? If we don't cool down this fervor, I doubt we'll be able to go home tonight."
Gyeo-ul thought for a moment, then a mischievous smile crossed her face.
She exchanged a few quiet words with Lawrence. He gave her a thumbs-up as if to say it was a great idea, then walked over to where the stage staff were standing.
A few minutes later, Lawrence reappeared on stage with a microphone in his hand. With a playful expression, he addressed the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you. To repay your warm enthusiasm, we have prepared a special program."
The murmuring auditorium fell silent. Everyone wore an expression of anticipation, wondering what would come out of Lawrence's mouth.
"I would like to introduce the composer of the miraculous piece we heard tonight."
When he pointed up to the second-floor balcony, every gaze followed.
Pop-
The instant Lawrence finished speaking, a dazzling pin light illuminated Seo-ha's seat. At the same moment, a close-up of Seo-ha's clearly flustered face appeared on the screen.
His tousled hair, his flushed face, and his eyes wide with disbelief filled the screen.
"My goodness, he's that young?"
"He's the one who created Oracle, right?"
"No way! That kid wrote that gut-wrenching piece?"
Awestruck whispers rose from every direction. When Seo-ha stood up in a daze, the audience members seated along the aisle parted at once, as if by some unspoken agreement, to make a path for him.
The applause did not subside as he made his way toward the stage. At the center of the stage, Gyeo-ul extended her hand as if welcoming him.
On a stage where the gazes of thousands were focused, when the pianist in her splendid dress and the mathematician in his ordinary suit stood side by side, the heat in Geffen Hall grew even more intense.
Seo-ha shyly whispered into Gyeo-ul's ear.
"What are you doing! You of all people know I'm not skilled enough to be on a stage like this."
"So what?"
Gyeo-ul laughed playfully and pulled Seo-ha by the hand.
Hesitating, Seo-ha sat down at the piano.
'I guess there's no helping it.'
Everyone was watching him with eyes full of expectation. Running away in a situation like this would be disrespectful to the audience.
'What piece are we doing?'
When Seo-ha asked with his eyes, Gyeo-ul leaned in slightly and whispered something almost too quietly to hear.
"Huh?"
His eyes widened.
While learning piano from Gyeo-ul, Seo-ha had played many piano four hands ( Piano Duets) pieces. He even knew a few that would be appropriate for a setting like this.
But Gyeo-ul's request was something entirely different.
"Are you serious? Here?"
"Trust me."
In the silence, Gyeo-ul placed her right hand on the keys. Seo-ha then brought his left hand down to the bass register.
Their eyes met briefly, and the piece began.
A boldly reinterpreted version of the third movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8, Pathétique: 'Beethoven Virus.'
Before an audience of the most renowned classical experts, an audacious prelude rang out through the hall.
It was a piece Gyeo-ul had once played for fun for Seo-ha, who hadn't known much about classical music. Whenever she got bored of studying math in the music room, she would play pieces from all kinds of genres.
Her fingers moved fluidly, pouring out a lively melody. As though his body remembered, Seo-ha's left hand kept pace with her.
"Th... those rascals!"
Watching from backstage, Lawrence's face went pale.
The audience, who had been wondering what piece it might be, could not contain their shock once the main melody rang out.
Geffen Hall was a sacred ground for classical music. That was why the New York Philharmonic always selected its pieces with the utmost care. Even when performing modern classical works, it was crucial to maintain a minimum standard of dignity and artistic justification.
In such a place, on such a stage, before classical aficionados as conservative as any could be found anywhere, a crossover performance was unfolding.
A choice of piece and performance filled with nothing but raw energy and dopamine, as if mocking pretension straight to its face.
"Their breathing is in sync. It's as if a single person is playing."
"It doesn't seem like the first time, does it? Could they have known each other before?"
"I had my prejudices when I heard a mathematician composed it, but his playing is rock solid."
Once they shook off the shock, they began to truly hear the music.
A fast tempo and an addictive melody. When two outstanding performers set out to deliberately stimulate the senses, the body reacted before the mind could.
Even New York's enthusiasts, who had insisted only on orthodox classical music, began to tap their feet cheerfully and keep time with the beat.
Reading the change in the air of the hall, Gyeo-ul smiled.
'After eating an expensive French course meal, you naturally crave something with a kick.'
Seo-ha, too, seemed to have relaxed; before he knew it, he was enjoying the music.
Whenever he shifted on the narrow bench, their shoulders brushed lightly. The familiar scent of shampoo lingering at the tip of his nose, the dazzling lights of Lincoln Center had somehow turned into the fluorescent lights of the Gifted High School music room.
"Hey! Let's try it like this this time."
Gyeo-ul's left hand suddenly invaded his territory. Without missing a beat, Seo-ha stretched out his right hand and snatched up the area she had vacated on the keyboard.
There had been no agreement between them. On a hot summer day back in high school, after tossing aside the sheet music, they had engaged in a youthful battle, almost a contest to see who could arrange more brilliantly. That very scene was now being recreated on the stage of Lincoln Center.
"Good heavens!"
"Is this even possible?"
Seo-ha rose from his seat and crossed his right hand over Gyeo-ul's left.
Gyeo-ul wanted to properly introduce the world to Seo-ha as a performer. How astonished she herself had been the first time she saw this....
Right now, Gyeo-ul was playing both the bass line and the main melody. So what about Seo-ha?
She had meant to put him on the spot, but to her astonishment, Seo-ha was playing the contrabass with his left hand and the harmonies of the wind instruments and violins with his right.
It was like an entire orchestra played on a single piano.
When Gyeo-ul had asked how on earth such a thing was possible, Seo-ha had answered with an indifferent expression.
"Well, harmony is just math."
As a soloist, Seo-ha was a performer who lacked the necessary talent, but when he was supporting another's performance, he became a collaborator with abilities second to none in the world. Seo-ha was a monster of ensemble.
Sitting in the front row, the critic Stefan Gould's eyes lit up. He had stopped his pen and was simply staring at the stage.
He had felt displeasure that a crossover like 'Beethoven Virus' was being performed at a New York Philharmonic concerto, and in Geffen Hall of all places. But as the piece progressed, the furrow between his brows deepened.
"Don't tell me, is this improvised?"
Gould muttered quietly.
The ears of a man who had devoted his entire life to classical music could not be deceived. Every time Gyeo-ul threw in a playful variation, Seo-ha filled the resulting hole in the harmony without a moment's hesitation.
It was a magnificent, multidimensional sound, impossible to believe was coming from a single piano.
"They're enjoying themselves. Sincerely."
The solemn atmosphere from the start of the performance had long since vanished.
Gyeo-ul tossed her sweat-soaked hair as she smiled with the innocence of a child. Even in the eyes of the once-bashful boy mathematician, there was clear evidence of someone captivated by the play of music.
As the piece raced toward its climax, the two pairs of hands mingled once again on the keys. The improvised back-and-forth, crossing into each other's territory, pushed the audience's dopamine to its absolute limit.
Gyeo-ul looked at Seo-ha with smiling eyes.
'Are you having fun?'
Seo-ha nodded.
'Tons.'
Once he immersed himself in the music, not a single other thought entered his mind.
A thrilling vibration coursed through his fingers on the keys. Gyeo-ul gave him a quick glance, then stretched out her left hand and stole the bass register.
It was a role swap.
Having taken the baton, Seo-ha's right hand seized control of the brilliant theme in the upper register.
His hand began to race over the keys like a man possessed. It was a strange sight, the two of them playing with their arms crossed.
Through the medium of music, the two were powerfully synchronized with each other. As the brilliant performance rang out without the slightest error, the audience let out deep gasps of admiration.
The bewilderment lasted only a moment; even backstage, a smile spread across Lawrence's lips.
"So this is youth."
Unpredictable choices, uncontrolled energy. And yet the musical completeness was strangely high. It was a performance more than worthy of being presented at Geffen Hall.
In his younger days, he too had had a time when he fearlessly attempted all kinds of things. Had he, too, smiled like that on stage back then?
The dazzling energy radiating from the young talents spread through the hall like flames catching fire. The audience felt a chilling thrill running up their spines.
Bang-
The final finale.
The hands of the two of them shot up into the air and stopped, as if by prior arrangement.
The silence lasted only a fleeting instant.
The audience leapt to their feet in unison.
"Wow! Amazing!"
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"Unbelievable!"
Were these really those refined enthusiasts?
Roaring shouts came from every direction; some people were stomping their feet excitedly as if they had come to a rock concert. The audience showered the two who had given them a magical performance with unstinting praise.
"Haa, haa."
Breathing heavily, Seo-ha looked beside him.
With a haughty expression, Gyeo-ul held out her palm. Seo-ha took her hand. Then they bowed their heads toward the audience at the same time.
Whoaaaa!
Whistle-
Clap, clap, clap!
The cheering shook the hall as if it might collapse, someone's whistle rang out, and the orchestra members had come out too, clapping and laughing along.
The one thing they all had in common was that everyone was smiling brightly.
When Gyeo-ul lifted her head, Seo-ha was standing beside her. His face had returned to its usual composure.
'Tch!'
She felt as though tears might spill from her eyes.
Gyeo-ul turned her head away so he wouldn't notice her expression. And quietly, in her heart, she prayed.
'If this is a dream, let it be a long summer day's dream that doesn't end for a very, very long time.'
*****
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