A long silence. Sua broke it.
“Is the answer correct?”
Her tone was calm.
However, there was no hesitation tinged with fear that it might be wrong. It was more of a question seeking confirmation for something she already strongly believed in.
Sua.
Though she appeared humble, there was no trace of subservience. Ham Ah-yoon sensed something firm and strong in Sua.
“…It’s strange. She doesn’t seem to have the kind of impression one gets from someone who has been through music.”
After becoming a pianist, Ham Ah-yoon had met countless musicians.
She was confident that just by looking at someone’s face, she could guess whether they were involved in music and if so, what kind.
But Sua just seemed like an ordinary civilian no matter how she looked.
For instance, she didn’t have any of the habits or traces that musicians carry. Just look at her white, unblemished hands.
Well, anyway, it was time to give the answer now.
And the next moment…
The expression on Ham Ah-yoon’s face, which had been scrutinizing the keys, gradually disappeared.
“…What is this?”
The things she had guessed were roughly matching up.
Actually, identifying notes after hearing them wasn’t that extraordinary. It was merely a necessary aptitude for advancing to higher levels.
But identifying multiple notes simultaneously was a different story altogether.
Or, one could say it was entirely different.
“…It’s not just pressing lightly, it’s practically hammering them down. Can this person really identify correct notes from sounds that are almost noise?”
She dismissed it immediately. It didn’t make sense.
“No, maybe she could see the positions I aimed for…”
She decided to think of it that way first for lack of any reality in the situation.
“Let’s try again. Close your eyes.”
Sua silently closed her eyelids. Her long lashes descended like the eaves of an antique temple roof.
C—
“La.”
C—
“Re sharp.”
C—
“Mi.”
Even when changing octaves, the results didn’t vary. The moment Kim So-hee’s hand pressed a key, the girl answered correctly.
Without any delay. Every single time.
“What are you? Do you have perfect pitch or something?”
Finally, Ham Ah-yoon had to acknowledge it.
Sua’s hearing was exceptional, far beyond her expectations.
But it still irritated her to admit it so readily. She didn’t like the idea of the girl being remarkable.
This wasn’t due to inferiority or anger toward Sua. It was just…
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about a prodigy like her?”
That was the problem.
She simply couldn’t understand.
Why didn’t anyone inform her about such a prodigy?
“…”
But Ham Ah-yoon soon had to discard that thought. When she glanced around, there were only looks of profound shock. Apparently, everyone was just realizing the caliber of Sua’s hearing right now.
Unanswerable questions abounded.
Strange things everywhere.
Ham Ah-yoon continued speaking, somewhat puzzled.
“You’ve got incredible hearing. Beyond the level of ‘excellent.'”
“Thankfully.”
“This is beyond something just ‘fortunate.’ Rather…”
Ham Ah-yoon left the sentence unfinished, barely managing to hold back the words which almost spilled out – that this might be the talent of a millennium.
“To play the piano, it’s not just hearing that matters, but also your hands. It would be the worst kind of curse if someone had great hearing but couldn’t express it through their hands.”
Sua nodded quietly.
Indeed, it should be that way.
With her current hearing, which had become many times more sensitive than in her past, she would be exceedingly frustrated if she couldn’t create beautiful melodies here.
As for Ham Ah-yoon, she didn’t mean merely to give Sua a heartfelt piece of advice. Her gaze became sharper.
“Let’s now see how far your fingers can handle. This is essential for playing Kim So-hee. Let’s check if your fingers move as sensitively as your ears.”
Sua glanced around.
Until just a while ago, the environment was divided into factions like solid blocks, but it was different now. The situation was quite altered.
“What is this newcomer?”
“Did she know how to play the piano?”
“…Didn’t you just see her getting all four notes right just now?”
Now everyone was watching with immense interest, and every bit of it was directed solely towards Sua.
C—
It was then that Ham Ah-yoon loudly pressed a key.
Dalararan—
Then the performance began.
Sua’s ears were sure to be accurate. What Ham Ah-yoon was crafting with her fingers now was Chopin’s Etude Op. 10 No. 4.
Title: Pursuit.
Sua thought. Such a bold choice.
“Isn’t this Chopin?”
“She plays well. Too well…”
“But what exactly is she trying to do?”
The gathered crowd murmured openly, and their words were clearly heard by both Ham Ah-yoon and Sua.
A while later, after finishing her brief piece, Ham Ah-yoon tilted her head slightly and asked,
“I still don’t know your level of playing. So, beginner level. Chopin. How about this piece? Can you handle it?”
Sua remained silent.
“Relax. You don’t have to mimic exactly what I just played. Any practice piece will do. If it seems adequate after I hear it, I’ll step aside for Kim So-hee.”
Even as this went on, the crowd surrounding Sua and Ham Ah-yoon drew closer, their desire to observe closely increasing.
In the midst of this, Sua thought:
‘She keeps asking me to do this repeatedly, which feels bothersome.’
Though it was absolutely orthodox to proceed carefully step-by-step, it felt a tad stifling to Sua, who had experienced all sorts of things. If there were many more things to do after this, it would indeed be somewhat bothersome.
Coincidentally, the title of the piece just played was “Pursuit.”
“Pursuit,”
To catch the one running ahead, you can’t just run at the same speed. Either run faster, or show something that will make the other stop.
It wasn’t difficult.
An idea had just occurred to Sua.
“Let’s try this.”
C—
Sua sat in the same spot Ham Ah-yoon had been in moments ago and pressed the keys.
Dadadadan—
Yet something strange happened. Though the piece seemed similar to Ham Ah-yoon’s performance, when asked if it was the same piece, the answer would invariably be ‘no.’ People soon started scratching their heads.
Until someone suddenly realized,
“Hey, the positions of the black and white keys are reversed!”
Sua was now playing the Etude Ham Ah-yoon had just performed but with the positions of the black and white keys neatly inverted, as if overtaking the one who had started first.
A spectacle that transcended admiration, verging on the bizarre.
“Modifying a Chopin Etude like this?”
“Impossible. Without prior practice…”
“She’s amazing even if she learned after practicing it…”
There was no doubt. Success was undeniable.
“…”
Ham Ah-yoon’s mouth slightly opened. The surrounding audience was no different.
“…”
In the suddenly quieter space, Ham Ah-yoon spoke.
“I see you’ve played the piano. I also realize she was brought here not to be a prop but as a genuine contender. But this is just the start. Should I give you some time to warm up your fingers?”
“Yes, I don’t need any time to warm up.”
An expression without the slightest hint of concern.
Yet not arrogant in the slightest. More like someone amazed themselves, which further increased the confusion among everyone around.
After regaining her seat at the piano, Ham Ah-yoon warmed up her fingers.
That Sua possessed piano skills was confirmed. However, from here onward, it was purely driven by personal curiosity.
…Did you understand my performance just now? Was that why you wore that particular expression, one my father used to show me?
A while later,
Dadadadan—
Cdadadan—
Sua remained calm.
The piece performed just now wasn’t an Etude but a Waltz.
She played Ham Ah-yoon’s piece exactly as performed.
Even a challenging 3/4 time signature, a fast-paced piece, was handled brilliantly.
“…”
Ham Ah-yoon unconsciously scowled. A few beads of sweat had already formed on her forehead, visibly so.
“…This is strange, really strange.”
It wasn’t just her surpassing expected skill level that perplexed Ham Ah-yoon. It was the unsettling anomaly she sensed in Sua.
She played well, but somewhere it felt off.
She really played well but definitely something was not quite right.
She had to understand the reason.
The moment Ham Ah-yoon started to play a short piece,
“Just a moment.”
Sua paused for a breather.
This realization struck Ham Ah-yoon. Oh, I unintentionally set something too challenging.
But,
“It feels restrictive with the soft pieces. Can I have something more intense?”
“…”
Ham Ah-yoon’s eyes widened.
The tone might have been polite, but the content was nothing trivial. It was nothing short of bold.
But Sua was firmly looking at Ham Ah-yoon, with no intention to retract her words. She then proceeded to play several high notes with ease.
Sua concentrated solely on the sounds she produced.
This is actually quite fun once you start to play.
Recreating melodies by moving her fingers brought a refreshing sensation, much like enjoying physical exercise by moving one’s body.
The feeling was highly addictive, far beyond annoyance or anything like that. More like the earlier thought of inconvenience had long flown out the window.
One more, one more…
Sua followed Ham Ah-yoon note by note.
Dadadadan—
As Sua found her joy, Ham Ah-yoon numbly blinked her eyes, not even realizing her slightly drooping sweat.
The thoughts of outsmarting her and not ceding Kim So-hee were long gone. There was only the shock of realizing the source of that unsettling anomaly she had sensed when listening to Sua’s performance.
Ah, yes, I finally understand why that anomaly exists.
That girl, it’s clear that she’s playing the piano with fingers that have never moved like this before.
Sua’s performance was beautiful yet intriguingly stiff.
Was it a mistake or intentional? Something imperceptible to ordinary people.
However, Ham Ah-yoon could accurately identify the cause.
Sua’s fingers were exceptionally stiff.
It’s the issue that arises when there’s a perfect composition in mind but the hands can’t keep up. In other words, it indicated she hadn’t been actively moving her fingers for very long.
…But how is this even possible?
“Doesn’t this sound outrageous?”
Is it like a grand piano virtuoso’s soul descended one day? Or is she merely memorizing my finger movements to reproduce them?
…Almost like a symptom of the Savant syndrome?
Whichever it is, it doesn’t make sense.
Near-impossible and, if at all, a gift of nature.
“Performance? Yes, this girl is mimicking a performance. She moves her fingers as if reproducing what’s inside her mind. Even while imitating true play, it’s not quite real. But the problem is…”
The day those fingers become more flexible.
By then, even this imitative play which started as mimicry will have turned into something genuine. The world tends to label individuals like her as geniuses.
“Who are you? Exactly what are you? You seem just like Kim So-hee herself…”
“Move aside. Let me have a moment.”
Ham Ah-yoon played a brief portion of a piece.
Dadadada–
Fast. But it was a piece familiar to all.
“The Flight of the Bumblebee…”
“Is she really going to ask for this? Seriously?”
“What would happen if she manages this one?”
Ham Ah-yoon was unmoved by the rapidly boisterous response from her surroundings. Her eyes were solely fixed on Sua’s fingers.
Insanely fast.
Even she knew she was pushing it too far.
Just, this was a good opportunity to check.
If this girl really remembers everything she sees at one go—if the style she adopts is one where she plays from memory the way her mind dictates—then when playing this piece, her fingers ought to become tangled.
Too fast, they would not keep up.
Therefore, failure in this piece will not be considered a failure. It would merely confirm the prodigious memory of capturing even the most intricate finger movements.
On the contrary, if she fails in this performance of mimicry, it might lend a lot of weight to her as Kim So-hee. That woman, a real savant, struggles due to her hands not keeping up with her mind’s genius.
Very soon, Sua returned to her position and sat down.
As she was about to begin playing,
“Hold on.”
Ham Ah-yoon hurriedly interrupted, feeling the need to ask a pivotal question before this critical performance.
“You…”
Taking a few deep breaths, Ham Ah-yoon asked:
“How long have you been playing piano?”
“Hmm…”
After a brief pondering, Sua responded,
“…About five billion years?”
It was bizarre.
Because the statement didn’t feel like a joke.
