Major domestic concours were generally held by renting small halls or school auditoriums.
Naturally, their scale couldn’t be large.
Usually, the number of seats ranged from 100 to, at most, around 500.
You might think, “Isn’t that too few?”
But that way of running things had never once become a problem.
Because the seats had never even filled up in the first place.
Most of the people who came to watch concours were relatives and acquaintances of the participants, so there was a clear limit to their numbers.
Buying a ticket to enter was something from the early 2000s, or something that applied only to a few international concours.
Now, classical music devotees went to recitals by famous pianists and had no intention of watching immature competitions.
So most concours were held privately or with free admission.
This time, however, the situation was a little different.
[The 74th Chosun Music Concours Piano High School Division Finalists]
We announce the finalists for the Piano High School Division of the 74th Chosun Music Concours as follows.
I Dohui, Hanseong Arts High School
Baek Seungmin, Seoul Arts High School
Choe Seonho, Sunhwa Arts High School
.
.
.
─Total of 12
Because Dohui was among them.
No matter how densely packed the field was with classical musicians, as a concours hosted by a major newspaper, there was no way they wouldn’t know Dohui’s current influence.
So the newspaper, as if rowing while the tide was in, had not only assigned entertainment reporters in order to write exclusive articles,
but had also prepared measures to control the fans who would flock there.
And the result was Dohui’s fansite master, staring in disbelief at the ticketing site displayed on her monitor.
“Whoa, shit, ten thousand won? That’s insane.”
Used to seeing idol concert tickets that usually cost over 150,000 won, Dohui’s fansite master saw the 10,000-won concours ticket price and jumped up and down in delight.
“Fuck, 300 seats? What is this?”
Then, seeing the number of seats, she swore.
After seeing idol concert venues with over ten thousand seats, looking at a tiny little 300-seat hall made it impossible not to spit out a curse.
“Is this for real? They’re not even selling the front row to begin with? Huh?”
The space was already small as it was.
With the very front row and the judges’ seats left empty,
there were only 300 audience seats remaining.
The competition seemed like it would be extremely fierce.
.
.
.
But in the end, the fansite master emerged victorious.
“Fuck, I did it!”
At the same time, a familiar notification sound rang from her phone.
“Huh!? This notification sound?”
The fansite master quickly checked her phone.
As expected, it was a notification for a Bubble message Dohui had sent to her fans.
[PianoLoverIDohui: Is anyone coming to watch the concours~?]
“No, what is this now?”
[PianoLoverIDohui: If you are, then urgent notice!!! If you come, please observe basic etiquette for the sake of the other participants!! Especially panels, posters, banners absolutely XXX!!!]
While she found Dohui’s thoughtful, considerate heart in respecting the other participants admirable, the fansite master was somehow irritated by the nickname she had changed to yet again: “PianoLoverIDohui.”
* * *
Near the venue for the finals, familiar shutter sounds were ringing out in abundance.
“After debuting as an idol, what motivated you to participate in a piano concours again?”
And surrounding me were classical music culture reporters and the entertainment reporters I usually saw.
“Our company’s team leader was the one who first suggested I try entering a concours. Since I’ve kept practicing piano constantly even while working as an idol, I think she knew I had an attachment to it and said that out of consideration. She also scared me a little by saying that if not now, I wouldn’t have time later, so I entered with the mindset that I should try it while I can.”
“Don’t you think you’re dressed up too much for a concours performance? It looks like you even went to a salon.”
What the hell, who’s this female reporter I’ve never seen before?
“Ah, I tried imitating the attire of a pianist I’ve always respected. I suppose it’s because, compared to pianists, I lack a certain calmness.”
It’s just that my face is glamorous, you bitch.
“Dohui, you’ve been called a piano prodigy since childhood and have an impressive history of awards. What is your goal for this concours? Is it first place, as expected?”
Ah, a trap question.
“Of course the results are important, but this time, I think what’s more important is how much I’ve improved.”
“If you could say a word to the fans who came today?”
I waved to the fans behind me and said,
“Thank you for always supporting me. But today, I hope you’ll also cheer for and respect the other participants, not just me!”
‘Ha, why am I so good at talking? Am I actually a genius?’
After finishing the pre-interview with the reporters like that, I finally entered the hall.
“Dohui, you’re good at giving pretty interviews.”
The corners of Team Leader Sohyeon’s lips had lifted faintly.
“Of course. It’s not like I’ve only done it once or twice.”
Perhaps because she kept feeling concerned after thinking she had pressured me into entering the concours, the team leader had come all the way to the competition hall despite being busy.
On top of that, she had personally found the black dress I would wear today, and even stopped by the makeup salon with me to direct my look.
“Dohui, it’s okay even if you don’t get first place.”
The team leader said it expressionlessly, but inside, she was clearly very worried.
“Yes. It’s enough if I improve, right?”
Team Leader Sohyeon nodded.
“That’s right. Just play comfortably, the way you prepared.”
“Yes, I will.”
* * *
Bach, Handel, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Schumann, Wagner, and more.
Pianist Jeong Hanbin, who had studied abroad in Germany, the country of music that had given birth to countless geniuses, nearly let out a yawn without realizing it.
‘How boring... Chosun music.’
It couldn’t be helped, since the twelve finalists were each playing the assigned piece, Chopin’s Ballade No. 4, over and over for eleven minutes each.
‘It’d be different if the performances were at least distinct...’
So far, from number 1 to number 8,
the students’ performances had all been much the same.
Of course, as an experienced judge, Jeong Hanbin had five mechanical judging criteria prepared accordingly.
Beat, rhythm, phrasing, pedaling, and attitude.
The beat had to be responsible and consistent, without wavering.
For rhythm, in order to give pleasure to the performance, not only the notes, but also the rests and the interpretation of the lengths between rhythms had to be accurate.
Phrasing was—
‘Extra points if it’s similar to what I think.’
Of course, every performer’s phrasing could differ.
But if so, it had to be persuasive.
‘But high school students... can’t do that. They lack persuasiveness.’
At least Jeong Hanbin had set his standard for phrasing to be similar to the way school and academy teachers generally taught it, so it didn’t matter much either way.
‘And... pedaling.’
Pedaling had to be cut off precisely so it didn’t interfere with the chord that followed.
In truth, this was something even kids who played perfectly often failed at.
‘I suppose you have to call it the realm of talent.’
The students might think there was nothing wrong with their own ears, but people with keen ears like Jeong Hanbin could feel that dissonance.
And now, the final evaluation criterion: attitude.
In truth, attitude meant how one had researched and interpreted the piece, but since everyone had simply been fed instruction by teachers at academies and schools, it was ultimately meaningless.
‘Instead, each student has different facial expressions, the height at which they raise their arms, their hand gestures, that sort of thing. I’m glad I can at least evaluate based on that.’
Nodding as if affirming his own thoughts, Jeong Hanbin swiftly wrote down the score for participant number 9 with his ballpoint pen.
‘Good beat, good rhythm... good phrasing. Pedaling isn’t bad. Attitude is all right too. Is this kid currently in first place? By high school division standards, out of 100... 90 points.’
Of course, if this were the university division, 90 points would be out of the question.
He would have given 30.
The university division was the process of moving beyond being a student and becoming an artist, so one had to mix in one’s own interpretation.
‘Even if participant number 9 played perfectly, I can see they diligently imitated their teacher’s guidance.’
Rather, even with a few mistakes, he would have given 50 points to number 5, whose own opinion had been clear.
─Clap clap clap
Number 9’s performance ended, and a neat round of applause came from the audience seats filling the back.
‘Come to think of it, there are a lot of people today. It’s not an international concours, either. Is one of the remaining performers famous?’
Jeong Hanbin subtly spoke to the university professor sitting beside him.
“Um... Professor. Is there perhaps a famous piano prospect performing today?”
“Pardon...?”
The professor looked at Jeong Hanbin with an incredulous expression.
“No, the audience seats are packed today. It’s not as though the public’s interest in classical music could have risen this much in just a day or two... so I was wondering if maybe an international concours winner was appearing. Is it that kid, perhaps? Jo Baejin? The one who won the Osaka International Concours last year...”
“Hanbin.”
“...Yes?”
“No, did you really not know? Who’s participating today?”
At that reaction, Jeong Hanbin’s face brightened for an instant.
Because he thought someone who would put an end to these boring, formulaic performances was coming.
“Is this the time to be smiling? If you’re a judge, you should at least look up articles about the competition. No, you must have seen the crowd outside.”
“Well, I came in through the back door, so I’m not quite aware...”
The female professor let out a sigh, as if wondering what sort of person this was, then opened her mouth.
“Good grief... She was a piano prospect, yes.”
“Was?”
Past tense? Well, there were plenty like that.
“You know, there was a huge fuss about her before. The student that a Hanguk University professor wanted to take in as a private pupil, but she refused.”
Well, someone could refuse that.
If she had been planning to study abroad, like him.
“No, you know, that girl who won the Student Music Association Concours seven times in a row.”
“Wow, that’s a bit surprising. Maybe because I studied abroad in Germany, I had no idea!”
“Haa...”
The female professor beside him took out her phone for a moment and searched for something with slow typing.
Then she held it out to Jeong Hanbin.
“Here. Don’t you know her? I Dohui?”
On the profile on the screen was an incredibly beautiful girl.
“Wow... She’s extremely pretty. Don’t tell me this girl is performing today?”
“You really don’t know. Do you have any idea how famous she is among young people these days? My daughter likes her so much she asked me to get her autograph today. She’s an idol, an idol. A girl group member. She does popular music.”
“Ah, so she’s an idol. Her face is certainly too much of a shame for her to remain a pianist, haha.”
“Are you really a pianist?”
“Haha...”
At that awkward moment when he didn’t quite know how to answer,
the announcement rang out with perfect timing.
─Number 10, I Dohui.
And he could feel the audience seats behind him begin to stir.
“So... is she good?”
“The fact that you’re asking means you are a pianist, at least.”
“Of course. Who loves piano as much as I do?”
Before they knew it, the girl who had stepped onto the platform bowed at the waist.
“So... is she good?”
The professor turned her head forward and gave a slight nod.
“Yes, she was good. I don’t know about now.”
The pianist straightened his posture.
“Then I’ll have to see.”
It was a posture meant for attentive listening.