| Episode 121. Second Competition: Concerto
Thanks to Gang Giyeon’s performance, Spark secured the sixth slot.
The glasses we’d ordered looked perfect on Park Juu once we put them on him, and Jeong Seongjun’s clothes had such great color and texture that they were ideal for styling.
‘How on earth are we supposed to secure this newsboy cap?’
‘We’ll probably need about twenty bobby pins.’
Except for the fact that Jeong Seongbin was forced to wear a newsboy cap, and I nearly ended up ripping out all his hair with my own hands.
That was the first time I’d heard that particular TMI. As if Spark had ever had to go onstage wearing hats.
Even Yu Hansu’s relentless barrage of texts had quieted down, so I couldn’t have been more at ease while preparing.
Of course, not every part of the process went smoothly.
Lee Cheonghyeon’s face, Spark’s greatest treasure, had lost its vitality from exhaustion.
‘Cheonghyeon, this time I need about twice as much of your talent.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we need sampling.’
The concept for this stage was a nerd scientist utterly absorbed in the night sky.
The styling, too, was planned to evoke a research maniac captivated by the beauty of galaxies and stars, obsessively digging into them.
The problem lay in the image inherent to a “scholar quietly immersed in research.”
Unlike a lively rookie idol or a hot-blooded athlete, this was closer to a static feeling.
But if we went with a mad scientist, not only would it drift away from the planning intent, it would also lose the feeling of youth, so I decided to raise the musical completeness instead.
‘Sampling? With what song?’
‘That’s for you to decide.’
‘Huh?’
‘You’re the classical music expert.’
By sampling classical music.
The song we’d decided to cover this time, Hellas’s “Starlight,” was a ballad B-side, a song that felt as though someone were quietly whispering love beneath the night sky.
It wasn’t flashy, but the melody was good and the lyrics were decent, so it was also fairly well-known for a B-side.
My goal was to add musicality that would further enhance its classical beauty, its almost obsessive precision, and its dreamlike atmosphere. If the sampling went well, we could catch three rabbits at once.
Though I knew nothing about classical music, Lee Cheonghyeon was different. Hadn’t that guy once done nothing but eat and play the piano?
He hadn’t even switched genres because he hated classical music. So there was even less reason to hesitate.
‘You know the planning intent and the concept already. The song we’re covering is decided, too. Do you need anything else?’
‘No, I just thought you’d already picked the song to sample, hyung. You hate variables.’
‘You’re the arranger, so you’d know best. Whatever choice you make will be the best choice.’
What had Lee Cheonghyeon said in response to that again? I couldn’t remember.
In any case, Lee Cheonghyeon threw himself into work with vicious determination from the very beginning of the preparation period.
Thanks to that, his face looked absolutely dead. Even though I’d told him so many times to take good care of it.
No matter how handsome a man was, if he had vitality he was a sunshine handsome guy, and if he looked haggard he was a tragically beautiful man—but that wasn’t what this was. What was the point if the song and choreography were beautiful but the face wasn’t?
I placed glucose candy into Lee Cheonghyeon’s hand.
And inwardly, I chanted a magic spell.
Become beautiful…
* * *
“Oh, Sticky sunbaenims are doing an East Asian-style stage too!”
Jeong Seongbin reacted while watching Sticky’s stage being recorded. On the screen, Sticky was opening the intro by spreading out fans.
With this, it was already the third East Asian-style stage today. As concepts, we’d had things like battles for the throne and sword dances by military officials. As expected, hanbok was practically a rule in survival programs.
Parte’s stage today was excellent as well.
All of them came out wearing hanbok embroidered with gold thread and showcased disciplined action acting and group choreography, and they had so much charisma that my jaw dropped just watching.
Perhaps because he’d received quite a few parts, Han Gaun’s vocals were placed in all the right spots too.
It was to the point that I couldn’t even remember the sight of him desperately trying to stop Song Minil under the Han River bridge.
On top of that, the swords looked really realistic. The way they reflected the stage lights was sharp and cold, which was nice.
Yes, this was how you did a performance.
I admired it inwardly, but outwardly, I spoke calmly.
“When you get down to it, we’re East Asian retro too.”
“I don’t know. At this point, isn’t it steampunk?”
Gang Giyeon did not agree with me. Still, everyone looked good, so it was fine.
And it couldn’t be helped. We weren’t military officials, but civil officials.
“Sticky sunbaenims’ stage started?! I want to watch too!”
Lee Cheonghyeon, who’d been getting his makeup touched up at the far end of the waiting room, shouted and came running over.
Light shone from his face.
I mean, physically.
“What happened to your face?”
Glitter that sparkled like jewels had been scattered across his pure white face.
With colored lenses added to give a special impression, the kid had become completely inhuman. You worked hard, magical glucose candy.
Anyway, it was strange. We were wearing the same sparkling colored lenses, so why did mine look like snake eyes while his looked like California sunshine?
Fresh as a newly picked orange, Lee Cheonghyeon cupped his hands under his chin like a flower and said,
“The glitter’s amazing, right? Today’s concept for Cheonghyeon’s face is a diamond mine!”
“Hand over the mining rights. I’ll burn it all down.”
“I knew you’d say that, so I set aside exclusive presale rights for you, hyung-nim.”
“Good.”
Choe Jeho looked at us from afar with an expression that said we were really enjoying ourselves. A guy in overall shorts making that face had no impact whatsoever.
While everyone was showing off their beauty, only Gang Giyeon was quiet. His face was slightly stiff as he watched only Sticky’s stage.
I waited for Sticky’s stage to end, then placed a hand on his shoulder. When I put a little strength into my hand and kneaded his shoulder, Gang Giyeon flinched.
“Don’t worry. We can do this.”
“……”
“As long as I don’t misstep in the middle of the stage and fall forward.”
“That would be a major accident…”
Gang Giyeon let out a disbelieving laugh.
But I was serious.
Unless it was a major accident on that level, Spark could take first place. Truly.
* * *
In preparing for the second competition, Lee Cheonghyeon had made painstaking efforts.
It was because of the mission Kim Iwol had given him right after the concept was finalized.
‘Because we need sampling.’
The original song was a ballad, the arrangement direction was a light dance track, what had to be expressed was pure academic passion and joy, and the means was classical music.
Everything was clear, yet progress did not come easily.
Several candidate pieces came to mind, but none of them resonated. Every piece felt just a little lacking.
He also couldn’t get a feel for how he should arrange it.
The “interpretation of a piece” that Lee Cheonghyeon knew had to be free, but it also had to remain within the score.
And yet now, he was trying to cut a single piece apart by the measure, or even by the note, and attach it here and there. That act felt like it went beyond a challenge and into the destruction of something.
Was this hyung trusting him too much? He often had that thought.
But at the same time, he thought of his family, who had not trusted him in the slightest.
His family, who had told him that if he liked music, he should just do classical music instead, and that they would compromise that much.
So for several years, he had happily played the piano.
He immersed himself in it and enjoyed every moment. He was happy.
As he grew older and his horizons broadened, the kinds of music Lee Cheonghyeon could encounter increased.
There were songs outside of classical music, and they were no less than the piano pieces Lee Cheonghyeon played—some were even more addictive.
His world grew wider and wider.
In Lee Cheonghyeon’s eyes, music was like the sea, endlessly vast and mysterious.
Lee Cheonghyeon liked music, literally. All music.
Playing instruments, singing songs, layering rap over a beat, or simply listening with all his attention—he enjoyed it all.
But to his parents, what mattered was in front of what kind of people Lee Cheonghyeon played what kind of music.
At that moment, a route was set in Lee Cheonghyeon’s sea.
Every day, at a fixed time, Lee Cheonghyeon drove a luxury cruise ship where onboard parties unfolded, circling the same path alone. Until the sea illuminated by lights was dyed black with darkness.
On the day he got off that ship despite much opposition, Lee Cheonghyeon thought it would take a long time for him to return to the sea.
At least, until one day his roommate hyung suddenly told him he would be hiring him as a composition machine.
Kim Iwol, at that time, had even taken away the map Lee Cheonghyeon had been clinging to like a lingering attachment, saying this.
‘Is it wrong to have expectations for a young, smart talent?’
It was such a strange thing to say. His family had asked him how long he intended to keep making stupid choices.
Kim Iwol was not kind like his parents. Lee Cheonghyeon could neither ride a luxury cruise ship nor choose only calm seas.
All Lee Cheonghyeon had been given was a raft that looked as if it would sink after only ten meters, and a crude oar Kim Iwol had carved for him.
Looking at that boat, Lee Cheonghyeon thought.
Which sea should I go to?
For what purpose am I going to sea?
I…
And, quite ridiculously.
Every time he was about to sink even a little deeper into thought like this.
‘Whatever choice you make will be the best choice.’
Because Kim Iwol would tell him to hurry up and set sail, making it impossible for him not to head toward the sea.
Lee Cheonghyeon had no choice but to move forward. Riding a small boat, with the help of a small oar.
Kim Iwol did nothing beyond handing him a new boat. What Kim Iwol demanded of Lee Cheonghyeon was only that Lee Cheonghyeon cross the sea.
So Lee Cheonghyeon decided to put a flag on his shabby boat.
What kind of music he should make.
What he was making songs in order to let others hear.
No matter where he set off on a journey, he would always keep the answer that encompassed all of it.
From the speakers, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 began to flow.