"Team One, you're going up now!"
"Dohee, fighting!"
As I left the hectic backstage area and headed toward the stage, it felt like I was stepping out into a concours.
For some reason, it made me think of my teacher.
Maybe because the habits from back then still remained.
My pounding heart calmed, if only a little.
No.
My heart was probably still pounding.
The audience seats must have been filled with murmurs.
But perhaps because my sympathetic nervous system was excited, no sound reached my ears, and the senses I could take in were confined to my own body, becoming sharper, deeper, more focused.
I moved to my place and sat before the piano under the dim lights, drawing in a deep breath.
A piece I had learned while playing with my teacher in elementary school, yet had still needed to practice again for two whole months.
Five sharps in the key signature that kept confusing the performer throughout the entire performance.
The use of countless double flats in G-sharp minor, to the point that even reading the score was taxing.
A high-difficulty part where the layers were divided not into right hand and left hand, but into four, each hand having to perform two different kinds of playing, for a total of four.
A piece that, unlike most pieces where one hand moves quickly while the other moves slowly, has both hands leaping rapidly, forcing the performer to rely almost entirely on sensation and practically memorize the entire score.
A piece where repeated notes have to be played with the same finger throughout the progression, making the hand physically ache.
A piece where, amid all these technical problems, the musical expression must also be interpreted.
An infamous piece that the masters say Liszt composed to show off his own playing ability and the size of his hands.
La Campanella.
That was the piece I would play today.
At last, the lights came on, and the keys gleamed white.
At the cheers, my chest felt as if it would burst just as much as my eardrums. My hands were trembling, faintly—no, greatly.
It was my first time performing in front of nearly ten thousand people.
In a way, perhaps this was a place where I could prove myself.
"Huuup... Hoo..."
After one last deep exhale, I calmly lowered my fingers onto the keys.
Yes, the beginning of the performance should be comfortable and soft.
La Campanella.
In Italian, a little bell.
Originally played on the violin, a string instrument, this piece does carry, just like its title, the ticklish sensation of a little bell and its capricious clamor.
But when played on the piano, a keyboard instrument—the tatatatatata sound that stands out reveals the true meaning of La Campanella.
A little bell. In other words, a clock.
This piece, in particular, has to sound like a wristwatch.
A performance that sounds, to the ear, like the ticking of a watch’s second hand.
There’s no need to think too much.
The beginning is about matching the notes precisely along the line.
'One two three, one two three, one two three.'
Time flows quickly, but I don’t rush.
A performance with as much composure as the rhythm of a clock, never hurried.
'Comfortably, comfortably.'
The right hand doesn’t need to strike hard.
For now, keep it concise.
A part to play loudly will come later.
Now, play lightly and conserve energy for what comes after.
Instead, put a little more strength into the left-hand bass.
Yes, to explain the feeling of this part, it’s like each note exists as an extension of the last. Like pizzicato. A sound as if something is flying around.
And once this part is passed, the melody changes. The freshening sounds of little bells.
Gradually softer—a single diminuendo is enough.
When the same passage appears again, play intensely, as if shaking the hand.
What matters is that at no moment must I ever grow hasty.
—Bam bam bam, bam bam bam bam
As it moves forward, now comes the crescendo.
Now, the part that descends across all the keys.
For the sake of musical expression, fingering is important here.
4321, 4321, 4321.
The feeling of wiping my fingers across the piano keys.
Only then does that frictionless, gliding sensation appear.
It isn’t easy, but I have to play it.
As if it feels easy.
That is La Campanella.
Now it passes on to the repetition of a new fingering, 3432.
This part has to be played very relaxed.
Later, relaxed enough to fall asleep.
Ridiculously enough, only then can the performer continue playing without becoming exhausted.
After all, it’s an incredibly tiring piece to begin with.
Now legato, smoothly.
The phrase, always.
—Ttaririri.
Soon, the most difficult part will arrive.
The buildup before it.
The buildup is just as difficult.
Relax, and play only with the wrist.
Not with the fingers, but with the wrist; the fingers follow along with the wrist as it swings with weight behind it.
A great master once made a comparison.
At this moment, the wrist moves like a duck’s feet kicking as it flies up from the surface of the water.
That really is the most fitting description.
The buildup is nearing its end.
Crescendo. Crescendo. Crescendo.
Even in the midst of it, I must keep remembering that there is a strong beat.
After the playing, which had been too intense to simply call a buildup, ended.
The most difficult part, and the finish, arrived.
There is no time to think.
Now, as my hands remember, the frantic keystrokes must be precise and intense.
With intense force, intensely.
And intensely again.
It is terribly hot.
Hot enough that falling drops of sweat splatter onto the piano keys.
And then.
"Hah..."
The breath that bursts out tells me that the five-minute performance has come to an end.
And when the cheers and applause reach my ears.
Following my heart, which feels like it will burst, for some reason it feels as if tears might burst out as well.
I know it’s a concert, but it truly feels like I’ve come to a concours.
Not the middle and high school division, but a real concours.
If this had been a concours, it would have been the grand prize.
There had not been a single lack in expression, nor a single technical mistake.
But right now, this is a concert...
Right.
What was the next stage again?
Ah.
That.
I have to act cute.
Ah.
***
The stage that had begun with cheers had, before anyone knew it, become quiet enough that even the sound of breathing felt like a sin.
To put it into words... the spectators had become listeners.
Even Chaerin’s solo fan, who had been sitting beside her and shouting Chaerin’s name at the top of her lungs, was staring blankly at the stage as if enchanted by the sound of the keys.
Even the fansite master had momentarily forgotten that the performer was Dohee, closing her eyes to listen, entranced by the sound of the keyboard instrument, and only realized it after opening them again.
'...So this is why people listen to classical music.'
Even for her, who was close to ignorant when it came to classical music, it hit all the harder because the piece was famous enough that she thought of the title as soon as she heard it.
How outstanding the performance was.
The classical music she had listened to through tiny speakers in her room and the classical music she encountered in person were different from the very magnitude of the vibrations that shook her body.
'It might not be bad to go see a classical concert sometime...'
In truth, during her school days, she had listened until she was sick of it to performances by friends in her class who were supposedly quite good with instruments.
What she had felt then was—
They’re good. That’s cool. Maybe I should learn piano too.
But she had never been completely immersed...
Perhaps Dohee had been born with even more musical talent than her fans imagined.
The degree of softness and strength that changed according to her delicate hand gestures made it impossible to easily shake off the lingering impression even after the solo performance ended.
And the one who broke that lingering impression was also Dohee.
'Huh? It’s not over?'
Dohee, whom she had thought had finished the performance, began to play anew.
And then came the prelude of various sessions gradually layering on top.
'Ah, this is...!'
When the sounds of various sessions created a lyrical and pure idol-style orchestral prelude, the spotlight that had been shining on Dohee’s piano at center stage went out.
The headlights on both sides flashed, naturally drawing the fans’ gazes to the stages on either side.
There stood two members, Seoyun and Yeeun, wearing outfits as fluttery as Dohee’s and holding microphones.
'Ah, so that’s why she wore a yellow dress!'
The two walked lightly toward the center of the stage, then, in time with the prelude, let out their clear voices softly.
—Sneakily, turn your eyes and look
Colored along with the wind
Falling into a dream
It was the song they had performed with a cute concept during the third theme evaluation.
'Sneakily.'
—My heart, like a little bug
Is going with a light little run
A secret tremble, a tiny greed
Are wrapping us up tight between us
And then came the highlight.
Stopping her piano accompaniment and rising from her seat, Dohee repeated cute gestures to match the light-footed choreography and lyrics her unnies were performing—finger hearts, cheek hearts, and hugging herself tightly.
'What is this... Is heaven closed today?'
Where had the sight of her striking the piano so intensely gone? At her adorable appearance, like an idol straight from the heavens, the fansite master, overwhelmed by the contrast, clutched her dizzy heart and screamed while shouting the fanchant.
***
After finishing the stage, we were waiting while changing outfits.
The vibrations of the cheers echoed all the way beneath the stage.
"Looks like they’re doing really well over there too?"
The stage we’d performed before this had gotten a good response, but since it was a cute yet wistful song, Chaerin, Hana, and Sera, who had gone up as the dance unit, seemed to be properly heating up the atmosphere.
"I should’ve done that..."
"It’s okay. When it comes to cuteness, you’re the best, Dohee."
I want to ignore her, but seeing the muscles around Kim Seoyun’s mouth as she holds back laughter makes irritation burst out of me on reflex.
"Ah, come on."
"Puhahahak, no, whyyy~ You really were cute, though? Agreed?"
Kim Seoyun is impossible to get used to.
"Focus on the stage. You’re up next with Harang unnie."
Kim Seoyun placed a hand on my shoulder and fiddled with it.
"True, but thanks to you, I think my nerves are gone now? Human Cheongsimhwan, Dohee, wow~"
I really can’t stand the sight of her.