CHAPTER 10
“Next.”
At Professor Baek Gahee’s merciless dismissal, the student hurriedly gathered their sheet music, close to tears.
Jeong Tae-sung clicked his tongue inwardly.
‘It didn’t have to be that harsh.’
Yes, the student lacked skill. But did they deserve that level of humiliation?
Even so, Jeong Tae-sung did not step in to stop Baek Gahee.
‘Unfortunately… she’s not wrong.’
Spending too much time on someone who wouldn’t reach the passing line would only delay the exam.
That would affect not only the remaining students but also the professors’ condition.
And if their judgment became clouded, they might miss a rare gem.
‘It still leaves a bad taste. But reality is cold.’
Perhaps it was better for students with mediocre talent to hear the harsh truth early and step away.
The other professors likely thought the same. That was why no one added anything to Baek Gahee’s comments.
They might even be grateful she was willing to play the villain.
Just then—
‘Huh? That student…’
The face of the student walking onto the stage looked familiar.
Jeong Tae-sung recognized her from the ear training exam.
‘Her name was…’
He glanced at the name written last in Group 9.
‘Yoon Seol.’
Yes. That was it.
A unique one-syllable name that stuck in his memory.
While everyone else had been sweating and struggling to write even one more note, she alone had calmly filled in perfect answers.
She must have had an extremely sharp ear—even among those with perfect pitch.
‘Let’s see what she does.’
Once again, Yoon Seol showed no sign of nervousness.
She bowed lightly and sat at the piano.
When she placed her fingers on the keys, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
Like she was greeting an old friend.
♪—
The first note rang out.
All the professors immediately lifted their heads.
‘There’s no stiffness.’
Students often froze up from tension, causing the sound to come out rigid.
But her playing had none of that awkwardness.
♩♬♪♬♪
The melody that followed was astonishing.
Dreamlike chord progressions. Unfamiliar yet refined rhythms. A delicate melody laid over a tightly structured foundation.
Everything blended together in perfect harmony.
‘This… isn’t something a student should be capable of.’
It certainly wasn’t the kind of piece usually revealed in a transfer exam.
Jeong Tae-sung forgot to take notes.
It didn’t feel like an exam.
It felt like a performance.
Baek Gahee paused her pen.
The professors exchanged glances.
One professor who had been sitting with arms crossed leaned forward.
Jeong Tae-sung’s lips curved slightly.
‘They’re all thinking the same thing.’
He watched with growing interest.
Yoon Seol continued playing with a soft smile, as if freely dancing on her own stage.
♬♪……
The final chord faded, and silence fell like the air itself had stopped.
Every professor’s gaze wavered.
Jeong Tae-sung savored the lingering resonance and said nothing.
Yoon Seol stood and bowed again.
Clap, clap!
“Bravo!”
One professor finally broke the silence with applause.
“Your piano skills are impressive, but your composition is remarkable, Yoon Seol.”
“Indeed. That was quite surprising.”
An elderly professor who rarely praised anyone removed his glasses to wipe them.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard something like that.”
As the atmosphere grew warm—
“Wait a moment, Yoon Seol.”
Baek Gahee cut in.
“Yes.”
“You wrote this piece yourself, correct?”
The meaning behind her question was obvious.
The other professors turned toward her.
“It’s difficult to believe a student composed this. These days, professional composers sometimes do assignments for students for extra money.”
Her cold suspicion instantly shifted the mood.
“Well…”
“It does seem a bit excessive for a student piece…”
Some nodded in agreement.
“Professor Baek, you shouldn’t make accusations without solid proof.”
“If we start doubting like that, there’s no end.”
Others objected.
Jeong Tae-sung stepped back and observed.
‘It’s understandable.’
There was only one reason.
She was too good.
When people encounter something beyond their understanding, they grow suspicious.
And suspicion wasn’t always wrong.
It seemed more plausible to assume outside help than to believe a genius suddenly appeared.
‘But anyone with ears should know.’
That performance was real.
It couldn’t be imitated.
Jeong Tae-sung had watched her the entire time—the way she breathed, the way her expression came alive on stage.
That was not someone playing a stolen piece.
Still, he did not step in to defend her.
‘If her talent is real, she’ll face this kind of suspicion countless times. If she can’t endure it, better to fall now.’
He looked at her again.
Such a young face.
Hard to believe it had produced that spine-tingling performance.
There were many child prodigies in the arts world.
But Yoon Seol had something different.
‘Maturity. A depth that only time can build.’
She possessed something even young geniuses rarely had.
Jeong Tae-sung could clearly see the thorny path ahead of her.
‘If you don’t have the depth to carry talent like that, it will bring pain worse than death.’
Perhaps living an ordinary life would be happier.
This was a test.
‘Now then. How will you handle this?’
On stage, Yoon Seol took a breath and looked at the professors.
Her gaze met Baek Gahee’s sharp eyes directly.
“Are you asking me to prove it isn’t plagiarism?”
“That’s right.”
It was an unreasonable demand.
It’s easy to prove plagiarism.
Much harder to prove something isn’t.
Even if cleared, it would only end in “insufficient evidence.”
But Yoon Seol nodded calmly.
“I understand.”
She could do it?
Even Jeong Tae-sung’s eyes widened.
Ignoring the murmurs, Yoon Seol sat at the piano again.
“I’ll briefly show you the process I went through while creating this piece.”
Her fingers touched the keys.
♩♬♪♬♪
At first it sounded like the same melody—
But soon, the progression changed.
♬♪♬♪……
“At first, I planned to develop it like this. But it felt too simple, so I adjusted it.”
A new harmony layered in. The atmosphere shifted entirely.
Baek Gahee’s eyebrow twitched.
Another professor murmured, “Oh.”
“But that moved too far from the feeling I wanted.”
Yoon Seol continued.
Same theme. Different flow.
Three, four variations were born instantly beneath her hands.
Then finally—
♩♬♪♬♪
The melody returned to its rightful form.
The refined piece they had heard earlier.
“That’s how I completed it. I first produced it in MIDI, so I can submit the file if needed.”
She withdrew her hands calmly.
Silence fell once more.
“This is…”
The professor beside Baek Gahee fell silent.
It was undeniable.
She had demonstrated a creative process only the original composer could show.
“Well… this certainly…”
“Seeing the process like this makes it convincing.”
As the professors murmured among themselves, Jeong Tae-sung slowly uncrossed his arms.
The relaxed look in his eyes turned cold.
One thought crossed his mind.
A name.
Jung Do-hyun.
‘The one you’re searching for… could it be that student?’
