Bound for Seoul

Yeon-jae tightened her grip on Ji-woo's hand.

Pedestrians streamed past them on every side. The child, seemingly oblivious to her mother's squeeze, was too busy twisting this way and that, drinking in the sights. Then a voice from beside her made Yeon-jae turn.

"Did you thank Auntie? You have to say thank you. It's thanks to her that we get to see the concert too."

"Thank you, Auntie."

When Yeon-jae looked, Seo-ha was bowing her head toward her. Having offered her greeting with that prim little face of hers, the girl straightened her back again.

"Oh? Not at all. They gave them to us because both you and Ji-woo worked so hard."

"My, Ji-woo's mom always knows just what to say. And thanks to you, we made it to Seoul."

Hye-gyeong laughed, giving Yeon-jae's arm a light pat. Yeon-jae handed her the tickets and explained that Je-heon had arranged them. Hye-gyeong looked startled at first, but she quickly understood. She'd wondered how they'd gotten hold of tickets that were so hard to come by — of course it was Chairman Gu. Ji-woo had been overjoyed to hear that Seo-ha would be coming along, so it was a happy arrangement for everyone.

"They say this place is insanely popular, but I'd need a reason to come to Seoul first, wouldn't I?"

She swept her gaze around D Department Store, bustling with people. It was a newly opened department store in Yeouido, famous for how beautiful it was. Yeon-jae had heard of it, of course, but like Hye-gyeong, she'd never had occasion to come up to Seoul. When Yeon-jae had told her they'd be going to the concert together, Hye-gyeong had taken it upon herself to look everything up, then insisted there was a place they simply had to stop before the evening performance, and led them here.

Yeon-jae had considered splitting off, given how crowded it was — but now that they were here, she was glad they hadn't. Ji-woo stuck close to Seo-ha's side, twisting her head this way and that to take it all in. That wide-eyed, innocent sparkle only ever appeared when she was next to Seo-ha.

"Mom!"

Yeon-jae lifted her head at the familiar voice that caught her ear. She hadn't even noticed them wander off — Ji-woo and Seo-ha were waving at her from in front of a flower shop.

"Hmm?"

"Ji-woo wants to buy flowers! Flowers!"

The child pointed at the countless blooms displayed in front of the shop, smiling with pure, unguarded delight. The days leading up to this moment flickered across that smile. Ji-woo had brightened so clearly once the trip to Seoul had been decided. Yeon-jae had been worried about how withdrawn the child had seemed lately — and now, at last, she could let some of that worry go. Perhaps that was why her own steps felt so much lighter as she walked over.

"What kind of flowers do you want?"

Yeon-jae approached Seo-ha and Ji-woo, who were crouched down on their knees. The children were pointing with their tiny hands, chattering about something. Sensing Yeon-jae and Hye-gyeong approaching, they looked up.

"We want to buy a bouquet. A congratulatory one."

"For the concert?"

"Yeah!"

Yeon-jae crouched down too, matching Ji-woo's eye level. The child's eyes darted from bloom to bloom. There were so many kinds of flowers that she seemed to be having trouble deciding — and to Yeon-jae, it was nothing but adorable.

"Jeffkin likes flowers too, right?"

"Of course. A performer always welcomes flowers from the audience."

The way she deliberated with that mock-serious expression was impossibly endearing. Yeon-jae rested her chin in her hand and simply watched her. Ji-woo seemed to have made up her mind — she pointed Yeon-jae toward a bucket of roses.

"I want these!"

"These, then?"

A pretty florist came over, offered a few words of explanation, and gathered several pink roses together with a spray of baby's breath. They paid and waited for the bouquet to be wrapped. Seo-ha, who had been standing beside Ji-woo, suddenly grabbed at Hye-gyeong's skirt.

"Mom, Seo-ha needs the bathroom."

"The bathroom? Now where was that. Ji-woo's mom, we'll be right back."

"Of course. Go ahead. We'll stay close by."

Yeon-jae watched as Hye-gyeong hurriedly took Seo-ha's hand and left the flower shop. At the florist's word that the wrapping was finished, she turned, and Ji-woo received the finished bouquet. The child cradled it against her chest — white lace wrapping paper, tied with a blue ribbon. Perhaps because she'd chosen it herself, a smile spread across her whole face.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's so pretty. And it smells so good!"

"Want to walk around a bit until Seo-ha and her mom get back?"

Not far from the flower shop they'd just left, there was an open hall. Thinking they might wait there, Yeon-jae took the child's hand. They hadn't gone more than a few steps before the wide, airy space welcomed them.

Ji-woo was cutting across the vast hall when she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Oh! A piano!"

At the tip of the child's pointing finger sat a grand piano. Ji-woo's eyes lit up with a peculiar brilliance as she gazed at it standing there in the great hall.

"Mom, can Ji-woo try playing it?"

It was an open piano, Yeon-jae told her, so it should be fine — and Ji-woo trotted over at once. The child hopped up onto the piano bench, small as she was.

"What are you going to play? Salut d'Amour?"

She asked, thinking of the piece Ji-woo had played not long ago — but the child shook her head. As she loosened her fingers, her eyes were full of delight.

"I want to try La Campanella."

Ever since they'd decided to go to the concert, Ji-woo had asked Yeon-jae every night to play videos of Jeffkin's performances. She'd hummed along to the YouTube clips, her ten fingers moving through the air. Born with absolute pitch, Ji-woo could, by sheer natural gift, sight-read most ordinary pieces well enough. She'd picked up Salut d'Amour after hearing it just a few times, after all. But Liszt's works were notorious — transcendental études of staggering technical brilliance that even piano majors found daunting.

Yeon-jae took a step back. The look in Ji-woo's eyes as she regarded the piano was uncommonly deep — nothing like the innocent sparkle they usually held.

Ji-woo's hands settled gently onto the keys. A high D rang out, one after another, like the peal of a bell. Then the left-hand chords began to accumulate. Unlike that deceptively simple opening, both of Ji-woo's hands were soon flying.

"That little kid's really good."

"Honey, look at that. She's playing the piano with those tiny little hands. She's so cute!"

Yeon-jae lifted her head at the voices around her. A crowd had gathered around the piano before she'd even noticed.

"Holy crap, I think that kid's playing La Campanella."

Passersby stopped to listen, then busied themselves taking pictures with their phones. Yeon-jae watched her child in a daze. It was more than she'd even imagined. At that age — to play that piece like this, and from sight, no less. Even Yeon-jae, who had grown up being called a genius, hadn't been capable of that.

She lowered her gaze and took in those two small hands. Her own ten fingers had grown long from a lifetime at the piano — and the piece Ji-woo was playing was full of leaps, distances of more than a handspan that had to be covered at high speed. It was hard to believe she was generating that much power with those tiny hands.

The melody she'd been playing gradually faded, then stopped completely. A sudden silence fell. When Yeon-jae looked up, she saw the child's hesitant back. Ji-woo's hands hovered in the air, as if she couldn't remember what came next. Of course she couldn't — she'd never seen the sheet music.

Belatedly, the child turned toward Yeon-jae. Then her eyes went wide, as if they might split at the corners. A flicker of dismay crossed her face — she hadn't realized there would be cameras, and so many people.

"Uh... Mom."

The child's voice came out trembling, on the verge of tears — and Yeon-jae walked toward the piano. She bent at the waist and laid her hands on the keys.

"Ji-woo, want to try adding the left-hand chords?"

Yeon-jae's right hand began to move, gathering speed little by little. It raced at a tempo like a whirling waltz, then slowed again, drifting, swaying. Ji-woo, who had been staring at her with round, wide eyes, set her left hand in motion. Chords stacked themselves in time with Yeon-jae's playing. As if the silence had never happened, a lovely melody filled the hall once more.

Their fingers gathered speed, bit by bit. They passed through a magnificent climax, and when they lifted their hands from the final keys, the tension that had covered the child's face was gone, and in its place sat a radiant smile.

"Mom!"

Ji-woo threw her arms around Yeon-jae, beaming.

"You can play this piece too, Mom? You sound just like Jeffkin!"

A smile as if she possessed the whole world. That precious smile drove itself, little by little, into the deepest part of Yeon-jae's heart.