If You're a Man

They had just stepped out of the crowd, the applause still ringing in their ears, when a voice called after them.

"Ji-woo's mom!"

Both of them turned. Standing there were Hye-gyeong and Seo-ha.

"My god, how do you play the piano that well? I came out of the bathroom, heard piano music, and thought, what on earth is that?"

Hye-gyeong came bustling over, her face flushed with excitement, and hooked her arm through Yeon-jae's left.

"I went to see who could possibly play like that, and it was Ji-woo and Ji-woo's mom—I nearly jumped out of my skin."

"......"

"The teacher said Ji-woo's mom used to play piano, so it was true?"

"Auntie, you play the piano?"

Seo-ha asked, all prim curiosity, tugging at Yeon-jae's hem. Her round eyes shimmered with interest.

"My mom was a pianist!"

"Really?"

Ji-woo answered in Yeon-jae's place, his voice bursting with pride. Seo-ha's eyes flew so wide they looked ready to split. Mouth hanging open in disbelief, the child stared back and forth between Yeon-jae and Ji-woo.

"It's true! Mom was a pianist, right?"

Ji-woo caught Yeon-jae's hand, his eyes swollen with anticipation, and tugged at her as if to hurry the answer along. Caught between Seo-ha's astonishment and Hye-gyeong's equally stunned face, Yeon-jae looked thoroughly cornered.

She had no idea how much the kindergarten teacher had told them. It had been a long time since Yeon-jae had buried her past as a pianist deep in her chest.

"That's all in the past, Ji-woo. I only played for a little while."

Uncomfortable with any further attention, she waved it off. It was hardly an explanation—but Hye-gyeong's eyes were already gleaming, as if she had just spotted the most fascinating prey.

"So what if it was only a little while! You could just teach Ji-woo yourself, couldn't you?"

"......"

"From what I heard, you were at a professional level. Come to think of it, you said you work part-time at an academy, right? That's a piano academy, isn't it?"

Sharp-eyed as ever, Hye-gyeong plucked up things Yeon-jae had said before and pieced them together. This was exactly the kind of conversation she had been trying to hide.

"No. I'm not at that level."

A bitter line touched Yeon-jae's mouth. Piano was not something you could simply teach. And her hands had already gone stiff—she could no longer perform as a pianist. What was more, Ji-woo was an even more innate genius than she had ever been. There was no way she could take on a child like that.

Unless it was Myeong-hee—the woman they called a master born of Korea.

Myeong-hee's face rose unbidden in her mind, and a shadow fell across Yeon-jae's own. Those viciously narrowed eyes, the way she used to snap and lash. In front of that woman, Yeon-jae had never once managed to straighten her back; she had always shrunk into herself. The thought of leaving Ji-woo with someone like that made her dizzy. Even if a knife were put to her throat, she would never allow it.

Holding that vow, Yeon-jae parted her lips.

"Shall we get going? The concert's about to start."

"........"

"The subway in Seoul gets packed in the evening, so we'd better hurry."

She changed the subject as firmly as she could and urged them toward the station.

"Mom, didja see that just now? The line was that long and we went right through!"

Ji-woo chattered at Yeon-jae, his voice flushed with excitement. Waiting for them at the concert hall was an usher. The tickets Ji-woo held out must not have been ordinary ones, because the usher personally escorted them all the way to their seats.

"Yeah. Pretty amazing, right?"

"Totally! I felt just like those cool big brothers on TV!"

"I know. Still, it's too bad we have to sit apart from Seo-ha and her mom. You must be disappointed."

"Huh? Getting to see it at all is what matters! This is such a famous pianist's concert."

Yeon-jae glanced toward Hye-gyeong, seated far from their two places. Sensing the look, Hye-gyeong waved both hands vigorously and beamed.

Je-heon had said that with the recital so close, he couldn't get seats that sat side by side. Yeon-jae understood perfectly—she had been in and out of the ticketing site herself, hunting for cancellations. Cancellation tickets hadn't even been appearing. The fact that Je-heon had managed to get tickets for Seo-ha and Hye-gyeong as well was a miracle in itself. Knowing that, Hye-gyeong hadn't a single complaint.

"Moom! Why does Ji-woo get a better seat?"

"Seo-ha, quiet!"

"Whyyy? Ji-woo's family is way up there in the very front center! How come just Seo-ha and Mom are all the way back here? I wanna go to the royal seats too!"

"Shh. Jang Seo-ha, I told you you don't talk this loudly in a recital hall."

Seo-ha's sulky voice carried even from that far away. Whatever she was so unhappy about, her lips were pushed out in a full pout—but Ji-woo paid it no mind at all. He had turned in his seat and was scanning the hall in a wide, wondering circle, eyes sparkling as if they held stars, busy drinking in every inch of the concert hall.

"Mom, Mom. The concert hall is so big. There's even a third floor!"

Ji-woo, who had been craning behind him with his legs up on the chair, tugged at Yeon-jae's attention. Only then did she begin to take in their surroundings as well.

"It's different from the hall I played in. That was an arts center too, so why is this one so different?"

"You're right. This place is bigger than where you performed, isn't it? Must be because it's Seoul."

"Wow. Mom, does Ji-woo have to get famous to play here?"

Yeon-jae's hand, which had been gently stroking his hair, paused. Only for a moment—then it moved again, lightly tousling the dark strands.

"You'd have to."

"Like Jeffkin?"

"Yeah. Like Jeffkin."

Ji-woo nodded as if that settled it. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he twisted back around to face forward, caught Yeon-jae's arm, and pulled himself in close against her side. He leaned in the way children do when they have a secret to tell, and whispered.

"Then has Mom performed here too?"

At Ji-woo's question, their eyes met in the air between them. The child's face, waiting quietly for her answer, was full of hope. Was my mom a wonderful pianist like Jeffkin too? He looked as if he had a hundred more questions stacked behind that one.

Yeon-jae's lips moved. She looked at the child swollen with expectation, and a faint smile found her.

"Yeah. Mom performed here once too."

Even if that recital had become her first and last.

Pianist Jeong Yeon-jae's first piano recital. The performance on the day she heard that Je-heon had been in an accident on his way there—that had been right here, in this concert hall.

"Really?"

The child's eyes widened into circles. A beaming smile caught naturally at the corners of his mouth. His lips were just beginning to move, as if he had something more to say, when the lights around them started going out from the back of the hall.

"Wow, I think it's starting!"

Ji-woo sat up properly in his seat. Yeon-jae smiled at how thoroughly delighted he was by a concert—and then a single empty place entered her field of vision. The seat directly beside her own.

The performance was starting, and the owner of that seat still had not arrived. The places where the two of them were sitting were special seats even among the royal section—front row center, not far from the stage. To think there was someone who wouldn't come, even with a seat like this.

The thought that it was strange lasted only a moment. It vanished from her mind the instant she saw Jeffkin walking out onto the stage.

Even until the moment Jeffkin finished his bow and returned to sit at the piano, Ji-woo did not blink once. The child's weight, which had been resting back against the chair, tipped forward—as if he were trying to get even a fraction closer.

The pianist's hands rose as if swimming through empty air, then settled softly upon the keys. Like crystals striking against one another and ringing in sympathy, a high note filled the vast concert hall and reverberated through it.

The piece was titled La Campanella—Italian for "the bell." Like the peal of cathedral bells, the first high D rang out clear and bright, resonating buoyantly through the hall. The melody flooding her ears was intoxicating. A shiver ran through her entire body, and Yeon-jae quietly turned her head.

Ji-woo's mouth was hanging open. His pupils had blown wide and showed no sign of shrinking. If it was like this even for Yeon-jae, who had spent a lifetime at the piano, how much more so for Ji-woo? And he had played the very same piece just before coming here—it would feel all the more different for that.

From the first work to the last, for two full hours, the child was utterly absorbed. Midway through, Seo-ha began to look bored. But as the time passed, the light in Ji-woo's eyes only grew brighter. Where Yeon-jae lowered her gaze, she could see the ten fingers resting on his knees, twitching.

A recital. It was only a piano concert. And yet the child looked happy—happier than she had ever seen him.

Je-heon's words overlapped in her mind at just that moment, and Yeon-jae bit down on her lip. Could Ji-woo really be happy? Even if she had failed—would her child be different?

Just as Ji-woo's mind was filled entirely with the piano, Yeon-jae's was filled entirely with her child. All the way to the moment the recital ended.

The curtain finally fell on those long two hours, and the audience began to leave their seats one by one. As if a deep afterglow still held him, Ji-woo remained sitting long after the music had stopped. Then the child who had kept that silence sprang up from his seat and turned to face her.

"I want to play piano! Can't we go back to the department store from earlier?"

As if his hands were itching, he stamped his feet in place.

"I just wanna play once. Please?"

He held up a single index finger, pleading, and Yeon-jae's face grew troubled. The department store would already have closed. She was just about to tell him they couldn't go today, that they should try another day—

"Jeong Ji-woo."

A deep, resonant voice came from behind them, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

Ji-woo's gaze, which had been locked on Yeon-jae, slid toward the back. And his eyes flew wide, as if he had just discovered someone.