Devil’s Music - Chapter 55: The Beginning of Everything Lies in Dreaming

Two weeks later.

Seoul was hit by a downpour. Whether it was a sudden shower or the clear sky turning dark in an instant, a tremendous amount of rain poured down, driving the people who were out for a stroll into nearby buildings. A black van was parked on the deserted road.

Geon, with his feet propped up on the passenger seat, chuckled while gazing at the rain through the window, as Byungjoon, beside him, asked in a low voice.

“Why did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

Seeing Geon’s lack of seriousness, Byungjoon sighed.

“You don’t know how much of a hot topic you’ve been at school for the past two weeks?”

Geon turned his head towards the rain outside the window before responding.

“I know, hyung. I watched the news too.”

Frustrated, Byungjoon tapped the steering wheel and continued.

“But why? You could have gone to Seoul National University even though Harvard and MIT didn’t work out. Why?”

Geon closed his eyes, looking out the window.

The rain outside sounded like music, and Geon, turning back to face Byungjoon, met his eyes.

“You knew I wanted to pursue music, hyung.”

Byungjoon raised both hands in exasperation.

“No, can’t you do music at Seoul National University? Or Yonsei University? Who says you can’t? Everyone desires that. Why would you go to a place that doesn’t even recognize you? You’re in Korea, you’re Korean! Even if you were Chinese or Japanese, it’d be the same, Geon. With those two school acceptances you had, you could have succeeded in music or anything else!”

“Why? Why Juilliard, of all places? You got offers from Berklee, and yet Juilliard? Giving up all those good conditions from great universities and scholarships, without even dorm benefits, why Juilliard, which didn’t even make headlines?”

Byungjoon didn’t look at Geon but continued speaking towards the rain-splattered window.

“I understand you want to pursue music, but do you know what Juilliard is like? Do you know how many students drop out in the middle?”

<Juilliard School>

Located in the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in Manhattan, New York, Juilliard was founded in 1905 by Frank Damrosch, a music education leader at New York City’s public schools, as the Institute of Musical Art. In 1968, it changed its name to Juilliard School, encompassing all performing arts fields. Today, Juilliard consists of music, dance, drama departments, a jazz studies program, as well as preparatory and graduate programs.

After briefly glancing at Byungjoon, Geon spoke up.

“I know, I heard rumors and did some research.”

Turning back to the window, Geon continued.

“But do you know something, hyung? Do you know what percentage of last year’s applicants were admitted to Juilliard?”

When Byungjoon didn’t respond, Geon turned to him.

“It’s 6.4%, hyung. That’s the admission rate from the total applicants.”

Geon grinned, looking at Byungjoon intently.

“As for Berklee? Not UC Berkeley but Berklee College of Music. You might have heard about it—a school you can get into if you have money. Though I don’t know if it’s true.”

“I looked up the admission data for last year. NEC (New England Conservatory) and Manhattan School of Music each admitted 102 students, while Juilliard admitted 109.”

Geon raised his index finger, pointing it at Byungjoon.

“But Berklee College of Music admitted 1,012 students. That doesn’t seem even close, right, hyung?”

Frustrated, Byungjoon said, “Fine, let’s say among music schools, that’s the case. Aren’t you regretting it? It’s Seoul National University! Do you know how many stars rise and fall in the entertainment industry? What if you come back later and have no popularity? What if everyone in Korea, China, or anywhere else forgets about you? Shouldn’t there be a way out when you can’t pursue music?”

“Still, if you have learned something, it won’t be bad for the future, right? Many people study music outside of school hours. Not every musician graduates from a music school.”

Geon reclined on the car seat, making himself more comfortable, and rested his left arm on his forehead.

“Your words make sense, hyung.”

Byungjoon grabbed Geon’s left elbow, lowering his arm and looking into Geon’s face.

“Really? Then why did you do it, knowing all that?”

Geon stared back at Byungjoon. Silence filled the space between them for a moment.

“Because I wanted to be serious.”

Geon brushed off Byungjoon’s hand from his arm and adjusted the car seat back upright.

“That’s what I mean. I won’t take music lightly, even with the time left after doing everything else. Many Juilliard students are famous for practicing non-stop from 9 AM to 9 PM.”

Geon, as if remembering something, smiled dreamily and leaned towards Byungjoon.

“Did you see her? The woman with brown hair at the interview.”

Byungjoon nodded, recalling her.

Sharon Isbin

A classical guitarist and founder of the Juilliard Guitar Department, she won the Master of Music at Yale during her school days and later won a Grammy Award in adulthood, a genius female guitarist who had dazzled audiences with her beauty since her twenties. At 59 years old this year, she hadn’t lost her radiance even in her late middle age. Appearing alone for the interview, she puzzled viewers by maintaining the same attitude as in a regular interview, watched by audiences since the previous week’s internet broadcast.

Geon lost himself in a vague smile, his gaze unfocused.

“It was in my second year of middle school when I heard her performance. The first piece I heard was ‘Asturias.'”

Geon regained his twinkling eyes, leaning towards Byungjoon and speaking.

“Do you know the song ‘Asturias’? It’s a piece by Isaac Albeniz, a Spanish pianist and composer. Isn’t it amazing? Playing a piano piece on a guitar.”

Geon turned back to the window when Byungjoon didn’t react much.

“Maybe you don’t know. ‘Asturias’ blends Spanish folk music into the melody. Many classical guitarists tried it after Professor Sharon. Of course, her performance was the best.”

Geon pretended to strum a guitar, closing his eyes.

“But what I want to play isn’t classical. It’s rock. I don’t want to confine myself. Rock musicians seem free, right? It’s just an appearance, but it looks cool.”

“Inside, they struggle to free the music they create from confinement. That’s a common thread in many musicians’ stories, so it might be true.”

Without stopping his pretend guitar playing, Geon looked at Byungjoon.

“Aren’t you curious too? If a bird trapped in a cage has the ability to escape, how would it break free?”

Byungjoon nodded silently, and Geon spoke, watching him.

“That’s why I’m going to Juilliard. The moment I realize I’m a bird trapped in a cage. It’s where I can develop the ability to escape that cage.”

Though hesitant, Byungjoon seemed to reluctantly agree, sighing. Geon briefly glanced at him and raised his arms behind his neck.

“What does Lin say?”

Without a word, Byungjoon took out his smartphone and showed a text. It was short but impactful.

“I believe in him.”

Geon sensed his nose tingling and wiped it with his hand.

“Hehe, Lin, you, and Yeongseok, too. You’re all good people worrying about me.”

The rain outside slowly ceased, allowing thin sunlight through the clouds. Geon opened the window and extended his hand, feeling the lingering raindrops.

“I understand your concerned words, hyung. When you ask if I’m confident, truthfully, I’m not.”

Geon brought his rain-soaked hand to his lips and licked it slightly.

“Still, I want to try. I promised to keep going until I can. I want to be someone I’m not ashamed of.”

Byungjoon raised an eyebrow, looking slightly relieved.

“So when are you leaving? Did you find a place to stay?”

Geon leaned on the window sill, gazing at the sky with a dreamy look.

“I’m leaving in two days. It’s still a while before the semester starts, but I need time to organize and prepare. The place is two blocks away from the school, so I can walk. I wished I could stay at the dorms, but it’s not permitted. It’s on West 64th Street in Manhattan. If you ever come to the States, hyung, do visit.”

Byungjoon nodded, saying, “Sure, I’ll drop by. Let me know the address when you arrive. A bunch of clothes for your performances arrived. They’re just expendable items, but you should wear them since they’ll be sent there. It’s a truckload.”

Geon chuckled, hooking his arm with Byungjoon’s.

“Those luxury clothes? What if my school friends think I’m a second-generation chaebol? Hehe.”

Byungjoon nudged Geon with his elbow.

“You have no hobbies, so get lost. Anyway, if any entertainment-related offers come up in the US, Fantasyo can’t cover it yet. If someone offers a contract there, go for it. But I hope we get the Northeast Asia rights. Even if it’s a short six-month deal, if they don’t offer it, we can’t do anything.”

Geon laughed softly.

“Oh, where’s Lin’s number? Byungjoon says it’s okay if he doesn’t get a contract from Lin ~”

“What? You little rascal!”

They laughed in the car, basking in the bright sunlight that revealed their figures.

“The most crucial thing in this world is not where I am, but understanding which direction I’m heading towards.”

– Oliver Wendell Holmes –

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