After finishing his meeting with HS and returning to the hotel, Eden collapsed onto the sofa, drained of strength.
What had that young man said again…?
“No, Eden, not just your session.”
Words he had never heard before.
“The entire New York Philharmonic.”
Yes, an utterly outrageous proposal.
Sigh.
No matter how humbly he had come, how could anyone think of using the whole, world-famous New York Philharmonic as a session group?
Truly, from the first encounter to now, that young man was impossible to predict.
This was no time to sit idle.
Eden straightened and called Paul at once.
How would Paul react to HS’s offer?
Ring, ring…
After only a few long rings, Paul’s husky voice came through. It must be early morning in New York.
“Were you sleeping? I can call back later.”
“No, it must be important. Speak.”
“I have just finished meeting composer HS.”
“Oh, so the meeting went smoothly.”
“Yes, but…”
Calmly Eden explained HS’s words and proposal.
“Hmm.”
Paul fell silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
“Paul, why are you laughing?”
“This just makes me more curious.”
“Sorry, curious about what?”
“That young man—no, that composer—means to conduct our New York Philharmonic with his own hands, does he not?”
“Right. He asked for the entire orchestra.”
A brief pause, then Paul’s excited voice returned.
“Then we will add a condition of our own.”
“You want to counter with terms?”
“Yes. Let him prove he can conduct the New York Philharmonic, and we will play as his session.”
What was Paul expecting from him?
It was impossible to know, yet the agreement was already half reached.
“Understood, I will relay that.”
“Good. I hope we meet in New York soon.”
“I will confirm the schedule and call again.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
The call ended.
A peaceful afternoon indeed.
Hyunseung glanced at Eden’s message and let out a faint laugh.
I accept your proposal. Let us go to New York together. On one condition: if, once there, you prove you can conduct the New York Philharmonic, the entire orchestra will join the session.
Scratching his head, he replied that he understood.
In truth, he was already thinking about what to perform with them. His mind was popping with musical ideas like corn, ready to burst out.
Proving his ability would not be difficult.
The New York Philharmonic…
Remembering the countless instruments that had rolled into his hands, he opened his program and began laying down virtual parts: piano and violins at the center, violas, cellos, contrabasses, oboes, bassoons, clarinets, flutes, trumpets, horns, harp, timpani, drums, even the Korean gayageum, geomungo, ajaeng, and haegeum.
Tap, tap, tap.
He poured everything out, then trimmed and added again in a frenzy.
Tap, tap, tap.
Working like a man possessed, he repeated the process countless times until suddenly his hands stopped. A flash of inspiration.
He created a new track on the spot. These days his mind seemed to spin ever more smoothly. Perhaps that was why people said one should step away at times to clear the head.
Fine. Since they had challenged him, he would at least hand them the sword hilt.
More importantly, this would quiet those who doubted.
Tap, tap, tap.
One composer, at the same moment, under a different pen name, releasing a song in another genre—who would expect that?
From time to time, he broke into laughter while working.
This should be enough to shape the outline.
Unlike the grand, shadowy fusion new-age piece, the new track was painted with rhythmic drums, bass, and synths.
Click.
Saving the file, he stretched and muttered, “Let us hope you do not fold too easily.”
He spoke to himself—or was it to HS?
Whatever the case, the battle between HS and Choi Jihyun had already begun.
Two days later…
Before flying to New York, Hyunseung stopped by the A&R office to pick up some simple equipment.
Manager Kim hovered around him, worry all over his face.
“Hyunseung, you really are going just for the session, right?”
“Yes, really.”
“If they shove a contract in front of you, do not sign it blindly.”
Hyunseung sighed.
“Do you not remember how many of your contracts I tore apart?”
“I remember, but the New York Philharmonic is a big name…”
He waved a hand in the air. The hour to meet Eden at the airport was near.
“I have to go.”
Shouldering his bag, he left the room.
Thud.
Manager Kim stared wistfully at the closed door.
“No need to worry, I think.” The team leader beside him grinned.
“Easy for you to say. That kid is aging me by the day.”
“I mean it. There is no need.”
“What do you mean?”
“He dropped another track into the A&R mail around dawn.”
Manager Kim blinked.
“Adding another song to the album?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Look at the email yourself.”
He glanced at the monitor and saw the file attached.
A.N.P_MP3
And the brief instructions:
- Clear Seojini’s Japan schedule and set a recording date.
- Release under the composer name HS.
- Distribute through Man Records.
Clearly a mail from Hyunseung, and this time the featured instrument was Seojini.
“He really wrote another song in the midst of all this?”
Manager Kim shook his head in amazement.
“What does A.N.P stand for?”
“Not sure…”
“Who knows what goes on in that head.”
Sitting down, he asked to hear it.
“I have not listened yet either. Let us play it.”
The moment the file started, a dreamy melody flowed from the speakers,
♪ ♪ ♪
then funky rhythms slipped in, and both men let out a thoughtful ‘ah’.
Now they understood why the email’s instructions made perfect sense.
A J-pop flavored track, so of course Seo Jini as the instrument and Man Records for distribution.
That boy…
They had wondered why he needed another pen name.
He had already drawn in the New York Philharmonic for a grand project, and now he laid down a cheat card under the name HS.
It was worthy of awe.
The team leader chuckled.
“Looks like Seo Jini will be stuck in Japan all year.”
“Seems so, we may as well camp there.”
“Will he end up clashing hard with Hajun?”
“So what? Hyunseung is fighting himself.”
Manager Kim laughed at his own words.
HS, Choi Jihyun, the Philharmonic, Seo Jini…
Whatever the label, Hyunseung’s success was already a foregone conclusion.
After arriving in New York, Hyunseung followed Eden to David Geffen Hall, the home of the New York Philharmonic.
Rehearsal was in full swing, with every player at their post.
“Eden?”
The man holding the baton strode over with a bright welcome, then turned to the visitor.
This must be Paul, the one who wanted to meet him.
“As you must be HS, I’m Paul.”
He shook hands without waiting for a question.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Shall we sit and talk?”
“Certainly.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll have a cof—”
“You asked for our entire orchestra as your session, didn’t you?”
He never finished the word coffee. Paul was evidently a man of haste.
“You must also have heard that you need to prove yourself before we agree.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“So, how will you demonstrate it?”
He paused only a breath.
“Could you play what I have prepared, exactly as written?”
“Right now?”
“Yes. The New York Philharmonic can sight-read, can it not?”
With an impatient man, nothing beats showing. He seldom listened to others anyway.
Paul studied the stack of parts, one for each instrument, plus a full score for himself, and raised an eyebrow.
“Manager, distribute these to everyone.”
Looking back at Hyunseung, he asked,
“You are not hoping we slip up and then declare your genius, are you?”
Smiling, Hyunseung shook his head.
“No, that will not happen.”
“Then watch from here.”
Paul took the podium.
♪ ♪ ♪
They truly deserved their reputation. Though the music was new and the sheets fresh, the performance began smoothly under his baton.
[out to sea]
Hearing his own piece played live by others was delightful, yet the musicians’ brows knitted.
The dark, oppressive phrases gnawed at them. Paul gripped the stick harder, feeling he might lose the beat.
Turning the last page, he almost dropped the baton.
It felt as if they had suddenly switched to another composition: from a ritual of curses to a hymn of absolution.
Several players missed a half beat in shock.
Bang, bang-bang, bang.
Two minutes that felt like twenty came to an end. Paul lowered the baton, his hand tingling.
“Hah…”
While he was catching his breath, Hyunseung called from the hall.
“Have the rich sponsors fattened you too much?”
Looking displeased, he went on.
“Paul, perhaps my expectations of the New York Philharmonic were too high.”
The players’ grimaces did not faze him.
“This piece must express deprivation, yet you all played it like well-fed pigs.”
He strode onto the stage, snatched the baton, and added,
“Let us try once more with me.”
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