No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 29. The Emperor (4)

I knew from the start that changing the concerto was a risky idea.
Comparisons to Jo Sanghyuk were inevitable.
If my performance fell short, it would only backfire.

But every time I practiced the original piece, Jo Sanghyuk’s rendition replayed in my mind.
Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and watched his performance online.
Before I knew it, I was imitating him, my fingers naturally following his notes.

Fine, I thought. If it’s come to this, let’s play it to death.

I spent two days relentlessly hammering the piano keys, imagining an orchestra around me and completing dozens of virtual collaborations.

When I listened to Jo Sanghyuk’s Emperor again, I began noticing flaws I hadn’t seen before.
His performance, though flawless, lacked something—it didn’t lead.

His piano blended seamlessly with the orchestra, flowing as one harmonious entity.
It was as if he portrayed Beethoven standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his people, united with those who stayed behind in the city.

There was nothing wrong with that interpretation.

But the more I studied and practiced the piece, the more I felt that wasn’t Beethoven’s vision.
The emperor Beethoven imagined was not just a benevolent ruler among his people but a general leading them from the front.

Instead of becoming one with the orchestra, the emperor should guide them forward—a beacon ahead of his soldiers.
That’s how I saw it.

Of course, I could be wrong.
Beethoven personally premiered his first four piano concertos, but he didn’t do so with this one.
The exact reason remains unknown, and no one ever heard Beethoven’s interpretation firsthand.

So perhaps my theory was off.
Still, I infused my interpretation into the Emperor and practiced it relentlessly, driving myself to the limit.

The more I worked, the stronger my desire grew to perform with a real orchestra, not an imagined one.
That’s why I pushed past all objections and proposed the change to Professor Han Gwangsook.
I wanted to play The Emperor.

Instead of persuading her with words, I showed her through my playing.
It worked.

After practice that day, Yoon Seol spoke to me privately.

“If you do this, people will compare you to Jo Sanghyuk intentionally. You’ll get a lot of attention, and it might be a hassle.”

I didn’t care.

Music is something I do because I want to. What does any of that matter?
The attention I’ll get eventually—does it really make a difference if it happens now or later?

“I can already see your future, Seojoon.”

And so, this is the result.

[Ta-dan, ta-da-dan, dan—]

I glanced at Yoon Seol.
Her eyes glistened as she conducted the orchestra, leading the musicians with precision and grace.

“They’re keeping up well,” I thought.

What is the role of a conductor?
To lead the orchestra, to guide the piece forward.

In that sense, the conductor is the king, and the musicians are the soldiers.

So, what is the soloist?
I see the soloist as a general—fighting at the front.

The first time I performed with the orchestra, I was a loyal assistant to the king, walking alongside the soldiers and pushing them forward.
It was similar to Jo Sanghyuk’s interpretation of The Emperor.

But not anymore.

This time, I chose to be the king.
I asked Yoon Seol to act as my general, and she agreed.
Now, she was helping me lead.

[Ta-dan, ta-da-dan, dan—]

I closed my eyes and imagined Beethoven.
I pictured the emperor he envisioned, standing against the fear of war.
I drew that emperor through my fingers and let him come alive through the piano.

“My god…”

“How can a student do that…”

“A genius… has returned…”

To those listening, mouths agape and hands clutching their heads, I wanted to ask:
“What is the true emperor?”

****

Two Days Later

“I feel like I’ve caught a disease.”

The kind that leaves you lying limp in bed, wanting to do nothing but breathe.

This started the day after the concerto, when school had gone on break.

Lying on my side for too long, the earbud pressed into my ear became uncomfortable.
I turned over and saw my phone lying nearby.

I’d just put it down, but my fingers instinctively reached for it, opening the screen.
I browsed the internet.
News.
The culture section.
Specifically, the less popular classical music category.

There, articles about me and Jo Sanghyuk flooded the page.

“The lost musical genius returns with a new name.”

“The dazzling comeback of a prodigy shakes up the classical world!”

“Kevin or Baekjung: Who is he?”

“Two piano virtuosos perform the same piece. Jo Sanghyuk’s camp: ‘Please refrain from comparisons.'”

“Former ‘Emperor’ Jo Sanghyuk departs for a European recital tour.”

“Jo Sanghyuk declines interview… Is the rookie on his mind?”

Even days later, the headlines were still dominated by stories about me.

“Hah…”

It felt strange.
I’d been in the news before, but this was different.

For one, the focus had shifted from society to culture.
There was no whiff of blood in these stories.

In the end, though, it had all come to this.

I had planned to enjoy a peaceful life until adulthood, but that plan was completely derailed.
As I had told Professor Han Gwangsook, I intended to graduate high school here, but it seemed living quietly was no longer an option.

“Sigh… my left ear hurts too.”

I pulled out both earbuds, and I could hear my mother talking on the phone from the master bedroom.

“Yes, that’s my son… Yes, yes, I’ll visit Sokcho sometime when I have the chance.”

She hadn’t put down the phone all morning.
From the sound of it, she was being bombarded with calls from acquaintances after my collaboration performance.
A photo of my mother crying during the performance had gone viral, and it had been juxtaposed with an old interview of hers, drawing attention.
I think the headline back then was something like, “Kevin Jung’s Mother: Cutting All Ties with Music.”

“Hmm…”

It was already lunchtime.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this idle.

“I should get moving…”

My winter break was packed with things to do:
The New Year’s concert, attending Professor Han’s music camp, photo shoots and interviews, and even filming for the ‘No Redemption’ training camp.
It was beyond busy.
I knew I didn’t have much time to rest, but I still felt like I needed to keep moving.

“Is it because I skipped today’s workout…?”

I picked up my phone and sent a text to Ducheol.

-What’s up^^

Not long after, he replied with a photo of himself at the gym, mid-workout.
He was wearing a tank top and shorts, his muscular body practically bursting out of them.

-Leg day, Hyung ♥

“This guy’s gotten even bigger.”

Feeling a bit envious, I got up from bed and stood in front of the mirror.
I inspected myself head to toe.
Despite all my efforts to bulk up, my frame was still lean, with only toned muscles. It was frustrating.

“I look more like a dandy boy than anything else… Let’s hit the gym.”

As I stepped out the front door, I noticed the sneakers I had gifted my father were neatly placed there.
They were so polished they almost looked new, as if he had wiped them down with a wet cloth again today.
I had told him to wear them comfortably, but he clearly treasured them.

“Are you going out, son?”

Sensing movement, my mother came out of her room.

“Yes, I’m going to work out.”
“With Junsoo again today?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him over sometime. If my son has a friend, I should at least meet him, don’t you think? Am I being too nosy?”

She was much brighter than when I first met her, but the shadows hadn’t entirely left her face.
She always seemed to carry a lingering worry on her back.

“No, it’s not nosy at all. I’ll talk to him about it.”

With my mother seeing me off, I left the house.
After a quick stretch, I was about to start a light jog when—

Vrrr—

My phone buzzed.
It was a call from Choo Minji.

“Hello?”
“Hey, something’s happened! Hurry to Junsoo’s house! Right now!”

Could it be Kim Changsik again?!

****

At Junsoo’s House

“…….”

The place was chaotic.
What used to be a sanctuary of quiet classical music drifting from the speakers now looked like a kids’ play café.

“Ducheol.”
“Yes, Hyung.”
“What the hell is going on here?”
“It’s a vlog, Hyung.”
“A… what?”
“A vlog, Hyung.”
“Hm.”
“Honestly, I don’t fully get it either.”

In the middle of the living room, Choo Minji was babbling into a camera.
Amid the loud chatter, Baek Junsoo sat with a dazed expression.
He was dressed in clothes that didn’t suit him, his face lightly made up.

“What’s up with him now?”
“Ah… something about transforming a ‘normal guy into a hot guy’ or something like that. I’m not really sure.”
“Good grief, what nonsense.”
“Apparently, it makes decent money.”
“I still can’t understand it.”

Sitting in the kitchen, I started chatting quietly with Ducheol.

“How much did you lift?”
“I managed 390 kilograms in the squat, Hyung.”
“Wow… that’s impressive.”
“Haha, I’m aiming for one ton next.”
“Guess I’ll have to start calling you a monster for real.”
“Thanks for the compliment…”
“Shh, she’s coming.”

Choo Minji was approaching, camera in hand.
Ducheol and I immediately stopped talking and pretended to look at our phones.

“Gang— I mean, Baekjung-nim! Say hi to our subscribers~”

That much was easy enough.
I made a peace sign with my fingers and waved at the camera.

“Whiba Whiba.”

“…See? Isn’t he super charming?”

Minji turned the camera back to herself and began murmuring to it.

“Details will be on YouTube, so stay tuned~ Choo-ba Choo-ba~”

Once she put the camera down, she glared at me.

“What was that? Whiba? Were you trying to be funny?”
“No, just a slip.”
“Seriously… what are you going to do without me to run this channel?”
“Why would I run this channel alone? Anyway, what’s the big deal? Why’d you call me over?”

It was clear that this wasn’t anything serious, so I frowned as I asked, “This is the ‘big deal’ you mentioned?”

Finally, Choo Minji relaxed her expression and gave me a bright smile. She rummaged through her pocket and held something up in front of my eyes.

“Ta-da!”

It was a driver’s license. Her cheerful grin in the ID photo looked almost impossibly sunny.

“What’s this?”
“Want to go for a drive with me?”
“That’s your ‘big deal’?”
“Of course! It’s my first drive! This is a historic moment!”

“Sigh…”
I had expected nothing significant the moment I got the call, but this was beyond underwhelming.

“If you come with me, I’ll give you a present,” she teased, pointing somewhere.

Following her finger, I saw the front door, which swung open as Kim Bom walked in. Her face was flushed from the cold winter wind, and she looked utterly exhausted, probably from her academy classes.

Noticing all eyes on her, she scowled and snapped, “What are you looking at?”

“Is Kim Bom the present?”
“Of course not. Look to the side,” Minji said.

Next to the door, behind the old couch where Bom usually sprawled out, was a large package. It wasn’t there before, but now it looked like it had always been part of the room.

“When did that get there?”
“Come here, quickly!” Minji grabbed my arm and dragged me over.

Her small frame didn’t have much strength, but I let myself be pulled along.

The package was already half-opened, revealing a neatly packed digital piano.

“Oh.”

A sleek, black body.
A row of mysterious buttons.
And beneath them, 88 black and white keys lined up in perfect order.

“Not bad…” I murmured, naturally impressed.

It wasn’t some cheap model. The high-quality materials were evident, and the touch of the keys felt solid, almost as satisfying as a grand piano.

“I splurged and got it for you! It’s easy to assemble, so you can set it up anywhere. Take it to your place!” Minji said with a dramatic finger-gun motion and a clicking sound from her mouth.

Baek Junsoo, who had been watching, clapped awkwardly.
“Lucky you, Seojoon~”

It was so forced and unnatural that even Bom, who had just arrived, crossed her arms and stared at Minji skeptically.

“Thank you. That must’ve cost a lot,” I said.

“Of course it did! It’s top-tier~”

“Oh.”

“…That’s all you’ve got for a reaction?” Minji asked, exasperated.

When I simply nodded, she waved at Junsoo. “Fine, shut off the camera.”

The sound of a video recording stopping echoed in my ears.
I had suspected she was filming, given her constant use of Baekjung instead of calling me a thug and Junsoo’s awkward behavior.

“Hey! I spent so much money on this, and this is how you act?” Minji said, pouting.

Her exaggerated sulkiness brought a small smile to my face.

“Thank you, sincerely,” I said.

“Really? Then…” she started to add something, but Bom interrupted.

“Are you saying you bought that expensive thing just to give it away? You’re not planning to drag Seojoon out to busk, are you?”

“…….”

“In this weather? You must be crazy,” Bom scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Minji sighed and slumped to the floor. Then she grabbed onto my leg, looking up at me with teary eyes.

“Listen, Baekjung, hear me out…” she began dramatically.

“It’s about bringing classical music… closer to the general public… by incorporating it into everyday life… The most effective way is…”

Her rambling was long-winded and unnecessary, and Bom cut her off mid-sentence.

“Just get to the point.”

“Alright, alright…” Minji sighed deeply before continuing.
“Someone commented that your talent is just hype, so I told them to come see for themselves. Sorry…”

Hype, huh.
I’d seen comments like that before.

The reason was always the same: I didn’t have any major international competition titles under my belt.
In a country like ours, where results and achievements are paramount, such remarks were inevitable.

“Tsk, tsk,” I muttered.
I didn’t let those kinds of comments bother me. Thinking about them would only drain my energy.

“Why get so worked up over something like that?” I said.

Kids these days…

Turning away, I started walking toward the front door. When no one followed, I paused and spoke over my shoulder.

“What are you all doing? Aren’t you going to lead the way?”