"It's good to be back in Korea."
After a long time, Jiyeong stepped onto her homeland, wearing sunglasses as she gazed up at the sky.
The murky sky, thick with fine dust, greeted her.
Still, it was her hometown. Even the haze-filled sky felt welcoming.
“Guess I’ll take a taxi.”
She walked briskly toward the taxi stand.
Though she rarely indulged in taxis despite her earnings, she didn’t want to tarnish the novelty of her first-ever first-class flight.
“Who knew Mom would book me first class?”
Her mother—cold enough to abandon her child for her dreams—had always been strict about financial boundaries with her children. Yet that same mother had secured her a first-class ticket, urging her to hurry home.
Thanks to that, she’d arrived in Korea earlier than planned.
“What is it about grandkids that melts even the toughest hearts?”
She’d heard even strict parents shed their armor for grandchildren. Could her mother be the same?
She tried picturing Heo Ok cooing, “Oh, my sweet puppy!” while hugging her nephew. Impossible.
Though they’d reconciled as mother and daughter, her mother remained the same unyielding musician—no, professor—she’d always been.
By then, Jiyeong had reached her mother’s apartment.
Dragging a bulky suitcase, she huffed her way inside.
Her heart raced.
A memory surfaced: her brother’s son, her nephew. The baby who’d turned her into a doting aunt. Excitement fluttered at the thought of seeing him again.
Standing at the entrance, Jiyeong took a deep breath and punched in the door code.
“Huh? Did Mom change the password?”
Her mother never changed codes. She loathed change—except in music, which she embraced with an open mind. In all else, she was rigid.
The password had been the same eight-digit phone number from before the 010 era. Ding-dong.
She rang the bell.
A click sounded, and the door swung open.
“Mom! Why change the password? Huh??”
She spoke toward the familiar height where her mother’s face should be—but no one was there.
Lowering her gaze, Jiyeong found herself staring at...
“…Wow.”
A doll-like child with jet-black hair and porcelain skin peered up at her.
“Hey… Yeonwoo?”
The moment Jiyeong spoke, Yeonwoo bolted to the living room.
Jiyeong chased after him, only to find him hiding behind his grandmother, peeking shyly.
“You’re here?” Heo Ok greeted.
“Y-yeah. Hi, Yeonwoo?”
But Jiyeong’s eyes stayed glued to the boy.
Yeonwoo studied her—a tall woman with his grandmother’s sharpness and his father’s warmth, eyes sparkling like stars.
Tugging Heo Ok’s sleeve, he mouthed: Aunt?
Heo Ok chuckled. “Yes, your aunt.”
“Right! I’m Aunt Shin Jiyeong—your dad’s sister! Want to come here?”
At Jiyeong’s flushed, eager gestures, Yeonwoo burrowed deeper behind Heo Ok.
“Mom, why’s he rejecting me?”
“Would you approach a frantic woman yelling ‘Come here!’?”
“Woman? I’m thirty-two!”
“Most your age have kids like Yeonwoo.”
“Since when?”
Grumbling, Jiyeong turned back to Yeonwoo.
He’s gorgeous.
She ached to pinch his mochi-soft cheeks.
Then she remembered: the keyboard.
Rushing to her suitcase, she unearthed a case.
“Ta-da! What’s this, Yeonwoo?”
His eyes lit up. Piano?
Jiyeong wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh! Not some antique piano.”
“Antique?” Heo Ok frowned, but Jiyeong ignored her.
“Curious?”
Yeonwoo nodded.
“Then come here.”
The keyboard’s pull was irresistible.
As Yeonwoo crept closer, Jiyeong set it down and swept him up.
“Got you, little rascal!”
Yeonwoo’s eyes widened, adorable even in shock. Jiyeong’s voice trembled.
“Do you know how much I missed you?”
Yeonwoo—born when Jiyeong had only her brother as family—was her everything. Holding him now felt surreal.
Silently, Yeonwoo reached up and wiped her tears.
“Are you comforting me?”
He nodded.
“You’re my world. I’ve got to repay you!” She turned to Heo Ok. “Mom, where’s my room?”
“The one with the desk.”
“Since when do you have a desk? Did you move it?”
“Bought a new one.”
“For me? I’m… touched.”
(Truthfully, it was for Yeonwoo’s MIDI setup, but Heo Ok stayed silent.)
“Wait here, Yeonwoo! I’ll set it up fast!”
As Jiyeong worked, Yeonwoo eyed the room but obeyed.
“Once it’s ready, you’ll hear all kinds of instruments. Snack while you wait?”
Nodding, he brightened when Heo Ok brought cookies and milk—treats his dad restricted.
Grandma’s better lately, he thought, devouring them.
“Yeonwoo! Ready?”
He jumped up, then paused to carry his dishes to the kitchen.
“Such a good helper!” Jiyeong praised, though his eyes stayed fixed on the room.
“Want to see?”
She settled him on her lap as the keyboard hummed to life.
A pleasant baby scent rose from the top of Yeonwoo's head.
Jiyeong turned on the laptop while breathing in Yeonwoo’s baby scent.
Meanwhile, Yeonwoo stared intently at the laptop.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it.
His dad often worked late into the night, so he was always glued to the laptop.
Yeonwoo was puzzled.
You can hear the sounds of various instruments with that? Really?
“Alright, we’re going to listen to different instrument sounds using this keyboard. Ready, Yeonwoo?”
Curious, Yeonwoo nodded eagerly.
“What should we try first? Ah, your mom mentioned drums. Let’s start with drums?”
He nodded again, eyes bright.
After clicking the mouse, Jiyeong moved her fingers to the keyboard.
Boom!
Boom-boom!
Clack!
“…!!”
Yeonwoo’s eyes widened as he gaped at Jiyeong.
Drum sounds from a keyboard?! No way!
“Now, the violin!”
Before Jiyeong’s visit, Yeonwoo had explored instruments through YouTube.
When the violin’s rich tones—a hallmark of string instruments—flowed from the keyboard, Yeonwoo stared at his aunt in wonder.
“Cool, right? This keyboard and computer program can create virtual instruments. Most modern pop music is made this way.”
Pop music…?
As Yeonwoo tilted his head in confusion, Jiyeong glanced at the door and mumbled,
“If we’re playing jazz or classical for the kid, shouldn’t we include pop too? Why start with stuffy old genres? But still…!”
She patted Yeonwoo’s cheek.
“Our Yeonwoo’s interested in music now! Amazing! I’d love to start with pop, but let’s follow your lead. This program mixes sounds to create music. Watch!”
Jiyeong layered drum beats with violin and piano melodies, crafting a simple tune.
To Yeonwoo, it looked like red and blue fairies of vague sizes were dancing around.
The music wasn’t masterful, but the magic was in using one keyboard to blend instruments.
Excited, Yeonwoo slid off Jiyeong’s lap and fetched the sheet music his grandmother had made.
“What’s this?”
“Something Yeonwoo created.”
“Yeonwoo…? Sheet music?”
“I transcribed what he hummed.”
“Hmm.”
Unable to decipher the music from the notes alone, Jiyeong rested her hands on the keyboard.
“Can you play this?”
“Mom, I’m not clueless! I know the basics!”
In an era where many musicians bypass sheet music, Jiyeong’s skills weren’t just solid—they were exceptional.
“Watch closely.”
But—
Tap-tap!
Yeonwoo interrupted her playing almost immediately, slapping his hands on the keys.
“Why?”
Frowning, he mimicked her notes before shaking his head and flawlessly playing his own melody.
“Ah… I messed up, didn’t I?”
He nodded sternly.
The rhythm had barely wavered, yet this precocious nephew spotted it instantly.
Jiyeong’s face turned serious.
“Got it. I’ll play it right.”
She set Yeonwoo down, cracked her knuckles, and took a deep breath.
Her playing intensified—
Tap-tap-tap!!!
Yeonwoo blocked the keys again, scowling like a tiny critic.
“W-wrong?”
Another nod.
It still wasn’t good enough.
How could it be? Yeonwoo compared her to his grandmother, whose piano skills bordered on wizardry.
He sighed at Jiyeong, then turned pleading eyes to his grandmother.
Heo-ok chuckled. “Move over. I’ll play—you record.”
She nudged Jiyeong aside and settled at the unfamiliar keyboard.
Unfazed—it was still keys, and a master adapts.
As Heo-ok played, Yeonwoo clung to her, finally satisfied.
Jiyeong watched through drowsy eyes—no, studied her mother.
The “Pianist of Frozen Winters.” The “Iron Jazz Maestro.”
Her mother’s legendary nicknames in the jazz world felt distant now.
The eternal frost that was Heo-ok seemed to melt under Yeonwoo’s springlike presence.
Had she ever smiled like this before?
“Of course.”
The saying was true: Grandparents never lose to grandchildren.
Jiyeong smiled, watching her stern mother and nephew bonded by music.
But her bruised pride lingered.
The moment Heo-ok finished, Jiyeong rolled up her sleeves.
“My turn.”
