Geon sat on his bed, legs crossed, staring blankly at a music score laid out on the blanket.
The score seemed randomly sourced from the internet, filled with multicolored notes, possibly from a famous piece.
Resting his left arm on his knee, Geon propped his chin on his hand, intensely examining the score.
"Even after waking up, it's still the same. I still see colors in the notes."
He picked up the score, holding it against the incoming light from the window.
"It's strange. I don't see this on the PC screen. Does color only show on printed or handwritten scores?"
Geon took a pen from the desk drawer and started jotting down words on the score.
"Sergei Rachmaninoff taught seven emotions."
His notes appeared in a corner of the score.
Blue: Melancholy
Red: Passion or anger
Green: Jealousy
Black: Darkness, fire
White: Warmth
Pink: Healthiness
Gray: Unclear confusion
Geon compared the emotions he recalled based on colors to the emotions on the score.
"This score is mostly filled with white notes. Hence, the title might be 'lava.'"
For over 30 minutes, Geon scrutinized the score, comparing it to his emotions, his expression growing serious.
"Uh-oh! It's my first class today!"
Rushing to his wardrobe, he found papers stuck inside the door. Smiling at the prints, he read the Korean text at the top.
"Geon! I numbered the clothes in the boxes, so follow the pictures below. Study hard, don't forget your sister! From Yeonju."
Quickly changing into the numbered clothes, Geon checked the shoes as per the print and dashed out, only to return immediately.
"Oh no! My guitar!"
Despite not yet adapting to Western-style homes, he hastily wore shoes and rushed to grab one of the three guitar cases, then dashed out again.
His house was just two blocks away from school, and he arrived within five minutes, sprinting at full speed.
Entering the school's main gate in a hurry, he saw dozens of students in the lobby. Navigating through them, he sprinted upstairs to the second-floor studio.
Opening a dark brown sliding door halfway down the wooden interior, he found about twenty students seated in a classroom. Despite the classroom's tiered design, ensuring visibility from every seat, everyone seemed awkwardly quiet on this first day.
Noticing students with various hair colors, Geon realized Juilliard truly gathered international musical prodigies.
Soon, a middle-aged yet attractive brunette entered, standing at the podium. Smiling at the students, she introduced herself through the microphone.
"Welcome, new students. I'm Sharon Isbin, here to join you in your guitar studies."
Overwhelmed by the chance to learn from a respected guitarist, Geon clapped without realizing, prompting others to follow suit. Sharon chuckled and raised her hand, stopping the applause.
"Guitar students will have one-hour private lessons with respective professors weekly. Additionally, there will be studio classes on some Saturdays, where I'll play alongside students."
Sharon moved to the center, holding the microphone off the stand.
"As part of your curriculum, you'll have to attend Music Theory and Ear Training. Other classes like Chamber Music and Orchestra are subject to faculty decisions."
Pointing to a platinum blonde student in the front row, she asked, "You, the platinum-haired girl. What's your name?"
Looking slightly surprised, the student replied, "Vladimirovna. Professor Sharon."
Chuckling, Sharon nodded, "Vladimirovna. Seems like you're from Russia. Do you think the schedule is too lenient? Not many mandatory classes and just an hour of private lessons?"
Sharon finished her question, looking at the nodding student with a twinkle in her eye.
"Yes, however, everyone. The moment you think you have plenty of time, you'll fall behind. Musicians always fight against time. The sweat you shed won't betray you. Even if you split and fragment the remaining time for practice, it won't be enough. So, make sure not to waste your practice time."
Sharon spoke, observing the slightly tense students around her.
"Today, I plan to just give a simple mission for our first session. There won't be any complaints about having a mission from day one, right?"
As Sharon lifted the remote control placed on the lectern and manipulated it, lights illuminated the projection screen behind the lectern, displaying a PPT screen with bold letters saying 'First Mission.'
Raising the remote control high, Sharon addressed the students, "This is the first mission I'm giving to all of you at Juilliard."
Manipulating the remote, the screen changed, displaying a black-and-white photo of a man.
Placing the remote down, Sharon turned towards the students, speaking while facing away from them, "The first mission is to 'play Isaac Manuel Francisco Albéniz.'"
As the students murmured in surprise, Sharon stepped forward, addressing them, "Most of you are familiar with him, right? The eminent Spanish pianist and composer. You have to choose one of Albéniz's pieces for your mission."
"But if it were merely playing Albéniz's piece, it would be too easy, wouldn't it?"
As the students looked puzzled, Sharon chuckled and adjusted the remote.
"To spice up the mission, I've added one condition. Take a look."
The word 'Arrangement' appeared on the screen.
Looking at the bewildered students, Sharon exclaimed, "Even though you're guitar majors, try any instrument. Any style of play, any additional instrument of your choice while arranging the piece you select. That's the first mission I'm assigning!"
The sudden announcement left the students flustered. Then, a male student sitting near the window raised his hand. Smiling, Sharon gestured toward him.
"Yes, you there. Go ahead."
A blond-haired male student, combing his hair to the left, cautiously stood and spoke, "Professor, we are guitar majors. It's a bit bewildering to have such a mission when we're not composition majors. It might be beneficial for us, but could you provide a more detailed explanation?"
After signaling the student to sit with a nod, Sharon took the microphone again.
"Everyone, Juilliard's education isn't limited to just performance. You already know there are humanities courses, right?"
As the students nodded, Sharon continued, "The artists we aim to become here are 'thinking artists,' 'suffering artists,' and 'creative performers.'"
With a smirk, Sharon surveyed the students, "Think for yourselves. How should you proceed? Alright, once more for the last time. You have a week. Choose one of Albéniz's pieces and arrange it. Feel free to add other instruments during the arrangement, but the guitar must be played. Understood?"
With that question hanging, Sharon waved goodbye without waiting for the students' responses and left the classroom. The students, still unfamiliar with each other, couldn't even grumble. With strained faces, they picked up their belongings and left the classroom one by one.
Geon checked the schedule in his small notebook. "Looks like this is it for today, the first day. Other friends seem to be heading to the practice room already. Have I already decided on a piece in my mind?"
After returning the notebook to his bag and slinging his guitar, Geon left the classroom.
With 84 practice rooms available 24/7 at Juilliard, it was rare not to find a vacant spot. Geon noticed several empty rooms scattered around and nodded to himself.
"Do I really need to choose the piece in a practice room? It might be better to get some fresh air at nearby Dante Park. Oh, visiting Logan's shop to grab a sandwich and having a picnic there sounds lovely, hehe."
Geon bought two avocado sandwiches from Logan's shop, a place he frequented, and settled on the grass at Dante Park. Though it was busy during the day, few people were sitting on the grass. Most were bustling along the paths in front of the park.
Stretching his legs and gazing at the sky, Geon saw many faces in the clouds. Mom, Dad, Shihwa, Yeongseok, Byungjoon, Yeonju, Sangmi, Lin. As he thought of the people dear to him, a smile unknowingly spread across his face.
In the midst of recalling joyful memories, Geon remembered what Chunho had said long ago during their days at Manjedo.
"The best song is one filled with sincerity."
Thinking about a piece where he could play with genuine feelings, Geon slapped his knee and exclaimed, "Right, the piece Sharon Isbin played when I first heard it! That piece is by Albéniz, right?"
Smiling, he reached back, supporting himself with his hands, and looked up at the sky.
"The piece I'll perform is 'Asturias.' And I'll use the sheet music played by Professor Sharon Isbin."
Geon rushed to the school library and printed out the score of Asturias as performed by Professor Sharon Isbin.
Although Geon didn't doubt Professor Sharon's interpretation skills, he printed the original composition by Isaac Manuel Francisco Albéniz to compare. Returning to Dante Park, Geon settled on the grass, spreading out the score sheets.
It was still morning, the sun blazing; though slightly chilly, it was bearable. He preferred the open outdoor space over the cramped solitude of a practice room. Geon first took out Professor Sharon's score, allowing the sunlight to hit it. Something caught his eye.
"There's an empty space here."
Quickly retrieving Albéniz's score from his guitar bag, Geon held it up to the sunlight. Every note in Albéniz's score was filled with color, unlike Professor Sharon's. Comparing the two, Geon furrowed his brow.
"The notes on the second page here are in sky blue. What could that mean?"
Lost in thought, Geon held Albéniz's score in his hand.
No matter how much he pondered, the answer eluded him. So, he shifted his focus from the score to the people behind it.
"Albéniz, a Spanish composer; Professor Sharon, from St. Louis, USA. Albéniz, a pianist and composer, while Professor Sharon is a guitarist. Could it be the difference in expression between guitar and piano that caused this?"
Chin in hand, lost in thought, Geon suddenly pulled out his smartphone and searched for 'Asturias.' After a moment of furrowed brows, he leaped up with a cheer.
"Yes! This is it!"
Startling those sitting around with his sudden movement, Geon, noticing the attention, sheepishly smiled, gestured apologetically, and sat back down.
"Asturias is the name of a region in Spain. This song by Albéniz, expressing the beauty of Asturias, was a feeling Professor Sharon, being American, couldn't capture emotionally, especially the 'longing.'"
Geon penned 'longing' next to the sky-blue parts in Albéniz's score. He felt elated for conquering one mountain but knew another awaited.
"I've solved the sky-blue, but why are there empty-colored notes in Professor Sharon's score? Although they match Albéniz's notes on paper..."
Geon picked up his pen. Despite drawing sharp or flat signs near the blank spaces in Sharon's score, nothing changed. Perplexed, he tried drawing flats near another set of empty notes.
Suddenly, every note within the section with drawn flats regained color. Watching the once slowly brightening notes turning into perfect hues, Geon smiled.
"This is it. The subtle difference in notes when expressed on the piano versus the guitar!"
Excited, Geon added flats or sharps wherever there were gaps. Soon, Sharon's score was filled with vibrant colors in every gap. He held up the completed score, smiling.
As he laughed holding the score up, he felt the surroundings dimming. Startled by the quick passage of time, he glanced around, hearing murmurs nearby. Turning to his right, many girls were sitting on the grass, quietly watching him.
Surprised, Geon asked, "Eh? W-what's happening?"
A brown-haired girl raised her hand, pointing at her wristwatch. "It's 8:40! We came to hear you sing!"
Counting roughly, over fifty girls had gathered today. Geon, feeling embarrassed, brushed his hand on his thigh, apologizing, "Oh, I didn't know you were coming. I was caught up with homework. I'm sorry."
As he made a slight bow, screams erupted. "No, it's okay! You looked so focused!" "Exactly! Hurray!" "You're such a handsome guy!"
Feeling awkward, scratching the back of his head, Geon took out his guitar. Trying to decide on a song, he noticed the score lying on the ground. He reached for it, read through it slowly, and then grinned at the girls.
Seeing his smile, the girls swooned again. "Ahh! He smiled at me!" "No, no, he looked at me!"
"What, you brat! You have Robin, don't you? Sing to Robin!"
Amidst the chaos, Geon laughed and lifted the score. "Today, I'll play the guitar piece I need to practice. Is that okay?"
The girls exchanged opinions. Some were meeting for the first time, yet their love for fandom erased boundaries, chatting like old friends. After a while, the brown-haired girl at the front raised her hand again.
"Playing is charming enough, but we want to hear a song, too. Can you sing for us?"
Geon pondered. 'I don't have time to practice... But performing here might gauge their reaction... What should I do?'
Lost in thought, a girl with blonde hair in the front row raised her hand. Geon gestured as if to ask her to speak, and she said, "How about adding lyrics on the spot to your performance? You'll play, and we'll get to hear a song. Everyone will be happy."
Other girls nodded in agreement, but soon, it became noisy again.
"Yeah, that's a great idea!"
"What? You know nothing about music! How do you suddenly create lyrics?"
"Why? Just add words to the existing tune!"
"Ugh, look at these ignorant kids, thinking music is so easy!"
Ignoring the noise, Geon began jotting something down on the score. As he focused, the girls, previously chatty, fell silent, eyes fixed on him.
After about ten minutes, Geon lifted his head. The girls gazed at him with twinkling eyes. With a confident smile, he spoke while holding the score.
"Thank you for the great suggestions. I really appreciate breaking the stereotype that lyrics wouldn't fit the performance piece. I'm not sure how it'll turn out, but I've tried composing a melody with lyrics for now. It might be lacking since it was done on the spot. Still, you'll listen, won't you?"
The girls cheered again, full of excitement.
"Of course! Let us hear it quickly!"
"Wow, seriously? Did you create it right here?"
"What do we do? He's a genius!"
This time, a freckled girl with red hair sitting at the far left of the front row raised her hand. When Geon gestured to her, she hesitantly spoke, fidgeting with her hands.
"Uhm, did you... personally create the lyrics just now?"
The girls looked curious, all turning their attention to Geon. He shook his head, saying, "Ah, no, writing lyrics isn't that easy. I found a suitable poem for the piece I'm performing, then added a melody to it."
Nodding in understanding, the girls began asking questions.
"What poem is it? We also like poems!"
"Yes, tell us, what's the poem?"
"Mom, I think he really knows poetry well! Did you just write it without even searching?"
Geon smiled as he brought out his guitar.
"Do you know a poet named Federico García Lorca?"
The girls collectively shook their heads, indicating their lack of knowledge. Geon chuckled, explaining, "He was a poet and playwright from Spain. The piece I'll perform matches with a composition by Isaac Manuel Albéniz, a Spanish national composer."
The girls nodded along, their eyes sparkling. Geon glanced at them and, lifting the guitar onto his thigh, continued, "The piece is titled 'Asturias,' inspired by the Asturias region in Spain."
At Geon's fingertips, a fast yet lyrical melody characteristic of Spanish music emerged. Even before the first 16 measures ended, the girls, without realizing, closed their eyes, immersed in the melody. People strolling in Dante Park halted, drawn by the distant yet incredibly beautiful tune.
The beautiful guitar melody seemed to paint an idyllic landscape, evoking a sense of longing. Those listening found themselves inadvertently recalling their homelands, naturally thinking of their parents and grandparents there.
Everyone has memories of their childhood.
We either become happy or unhappy
When suddenly reminded of those childhood memories.
For some, their hometown is a longing, a desire to return,
While for others, even thinking about it becomes painful.
But at this moment,
For everyone listening to the guitar melody,
A vision of an almost utopian homeland was depicted.
And as Geon reached the high notes with his guitar,
All the girls listening with closed eyes snapped them open. Around Dante Park, people who had been attentive to the guitar music dropped their coffee cups or phones.
Geon sang with a soprano-like high pitch with his eyes closed.
Some souls possess blue stars,
Mornings inserted into the fabric of time,
And the pure corners with dreams and nostalgia's ancient echoes.
Other souls are tormented by the specters of passion,
Fruit eaten by bugs, shadows flowing
Echoes of distant tambourine sounds,
Memories without sorrow,
Fragments of kisses.
My soul has long been ripening,
Withering as an enigma, darkly.
Young stones eroded by hallucinations
Fall onto the surface of my thoughts.
Every stone speaks,
God is far away.
Even after the song ended, the performance continued. Although only about fifty girls remained in the small concert space within Dante Park, everyone on the paths, among the trees, walking, or lying down, was engrossed in the music.
As the long performance concluded, a middle-aged man who had paused on a path to listen glanced at the sky before wiping his eyes. He then retrieved his phone from his suit pocket and made a call.
"Hello? Mom? It's me, Paul. It's been so long since I called, huh? Haha, I suddenly missed you so much. Is Dad doing well?"