Fukuoka Airport's international terminal was by no means a large airport.
However, it bustled every day.
This was because Korean and Chinese tourists flocked there in endless streams.
On days when multiple airlines' flight schedules overlapped, chaotic scenes unfolded with passengers waiting endlessly at immigration.
"Last time I came, I waited nearly two hours. Today's surprisingly smooth," Jiyeong commented as they cleared immigration in just thirty minutes.
Yeonwoo asked while exiting, "Auntie, have you been to Fukuoka before?"
"Auntie? Obviously."
"You’ve been everywhere!"
"I haven’t. You need to see the world to grow as a musician. Hello? Are you listening?"
While Jiyeong lectured with her mentor's authority, Yeonwoo was already scurrying after their grandmother ahead.
"Wait! Let’s go together!"
Jiyeong rushed after them when she noticed their distance.
The airport felt disproportionately small for the tourist crowds. After grabbing water at a convenience store, the exit appeared within moments.
"Why’s it so noisy up ahead?"
Jiyeong, now leading the group, frowned at the commotion. Though always crowded, this disturbance felt different.
The cause soon became clear.
"Uesugi-san?"
"Uesugi Himari!!"
"The World’s Himari!!"
"Uesugi-sama!"
Voices erupted from all sides.
"Looks like Himari came to greet us," Heo Ok said, amused.
The buzzing crowd was indeed entirely Japanese. Unlike Korea and China where jazz remains niche, Japan revered the genre—and Himari was its global star. Even minor fields gain fame when producing world-class talents, and Japan was no exception. Ignoring their top star’s arrival? Unthinkable.
"This is why I told her not to come," Heo Ok sighed, already drained at the thought of navigating the mob.
"Yeonwoo, ride the luggage cart. Mom, stick close!"
Jiyeong hoisted Yeonwoo onto the cart, pulling both hers and the child’s while forging ahead. Heo Ok trailed slowly behind.
Jiyeong bristled as she pushed through. Shouldn’t someone so famous anticipate this chaos?
But she didn’t know.
Uesugi Himari...
"Arigato! Arigato gozaimasu, mina-san!"
...was an unrepentant spotlight addict.
She rarely signed autographs or permitted selfies but basked in distant cheers and paparazzi snaps. The crowd’s admiration filled her like gorging on dumplings at her beloved 20-year ramen haunt.
"[Everyone, I need to greet my guests. Could you clear a path?] Huh? Sensei!!"
Himari’s request died as she spotted Heo Ok. She beamed, thrusting both hands skyward.
Every eye swiveled to Heo Ok.
"Oh."
Jiyeong marveled. Heo Ok had donned sunglasses precisely before the attention shift.
Somehow, Jiyeong muscled the cart forward, strategically blocking Yeonwoo’s face as she closed in on Himari.
"[Himari. Out. Now.]"
Himari froze under the sunglasses’ glare, posture stiffening as Heo Ok passed.
"[Still ruthless, I see.]"
Clicking her tongue, Himari waved at fans before scrambling after Heo Ok’s group.
To Himari, "family" meant jazz colleagues and students. Yet here stood a woman and child under that label. The woman shared Heo Ok’s features but radiated warmth instead of ice.
The child on Heo Ok’s luggage cart...
"K-kawaii...!"
...was devastatingly adorable.
Heo Ok’s protectiveness glared obvious—one hand gripping the cart, the other anchoring the child’s shoulder. The child clung to her arm, trusting as a koala.
[Why are you staring at me like that?]
She stared at him with eyes blazing like an inexplicable fire.
“J-Jade, sir!”
At that moment, Himari’s agency manager swiftly appeared before Heo Ok and bowed so deeply his scalp became visible. Having worked with Himari for nearly 15 years, the manager was a seasoned veteran who knew every corner of the jazz world. Someone like him couldn’t possibly be unaware of Heo Ok. His bow radiated genuine respect.
“[Hm? I’ve seen you somewhere before.]”
“[Ah! You remember me?]”
“[Yes. Still sticking with Himari, I see.]”
The manager smiled bitterly at the remark.
“[It... just ended up that way.]”
“[Nonsense. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, aren’t you?!]”
Himari barked at the manager’s reply, causing him to flinch. Heo Ok chuckled and patted the manager’s shoulder.
“[Since when have musicians ever been normal? Himari’s tame compared to most. Consider yourself fortunate.]”
“[I’m fully aware of that.]”
Heo Ok wasn’t wrong. The world had no shortage of high-strung musicians—Japan especially. Outwardly progressive, yet inwardly more closed-off and conservative than anywhere. The music scene was no exception. Having encountered every flavor of eccentricity, Heo Ok maintained that Himari was manageable. This level of drama was commonplace even in Korea or America.
“[By the way, Jade-nim, have you settled on accommodations?]”
“[Himari said she’d handle it.]”
When Heo Ok glanced at Himari, she nodded.
“[You’ll stay at my place in Yakuin.]”
“[What about you, then?]”
“[I have another main residence.]”
Real estate ranked high among Himari’s passions, second only to music and food. Specifically, she bought properties near favorite shops and rotated between them. She owned several in Fukuoka alone, with more scattered across Japan.
“[Should we go straight to the accommodations? Or eat first? Ah, you must be hungry—it’s already noon.]”
“[No. Take me to your studio first. I’ve missed hearing your piano.]”
“[But... what about lunch?]”
Himari peered at Heo Ok with pleading eyes. He met her gaze unflinchingly.
“[You take at least an hour to eat.]”
Heo Ok knew her far too well.
“Right. [To the studio, then.]”
Without another word, Himari led Heo Ok’s family away.
“Tenjin?”
“[Yes, my Tenjin studio. Where I work when ramen cravings strike.]”
Himari didn’t just collect houses—studios were another obsession.
“[You never change.]”
Heo Ok stepped out of the car.
“Yeonwoo, this is Tenjin—a lively area full of great food.”
“Really? Do they have sushi?”
Yeonwoo’s eyes sparkled, recalling his first sushi experience days prior.
“Sushi? [You like it too?]”
Himari leaned toward Yeonwoo, who promptly hid behind his grandmother and glared at her through narrowed eyes.
“[Ah, introductions! This is my grandson. And my daughter.]”
“Ohayou gozaimasu.”
“That’s for mornings. Say ‘konnichiwa.’”
“K-Konnichiwa.”
Jiyeong greeted Himari stiffly. Himari studied her face—not a perfect match, but traces of Heo Ok lingered in her features.
How enviable.
If only I were Heo Ok’s daughter.
“Annyeong... ha... seyo?”
“Annyeonghaseyo! I’m Shin Jiyeong. Your Korean is excellent!”
“Practiced... a little. Can’t speak... but understand.”
“You understand everything?”
“Yes.”
Himari had studied Korean to comprehend Heo Ok’s occasional mutterings. Once capable of simple conversation, her speaking skills had faded—but her comprehension remained sharp.
“Yeonwoo, greet her properly.”
Heo Ok ruffled the boy’s hair as he peeked from behind Jiyeong.
Himari’s breath caught.
Those eyes—they’re dripping with honey.
The fingers that delicately caressed the child's head were just the same.
The woman who once stood at the pinnacle, exuding the dignity and charisma of a master, silencing and humbling everyone, was nowhere to be seen.
She was truly a grandmother, through and through.
Over the past decade, time had molded Heo Ok into an ordinary grandmother.
"Hello."
Amidst it all, Yeon-woo followed his grandmother’s lead and greeted Himari.
Himari smiled at Yeon-woo before ushering everyone into the car and heading to her studio.
"Huh? What’s this pungent smell?"
"There’s a tonkotsu ramen place up ahead."
"Ah… so that’s the source."
Himari’s Tenjin studio sat in an alley thick with the rich scent of pork broth.
"I’m a regular here. Let’s eat."
Heo Ok observed Himari and thought she hadn’t changed at all.
Himari approached meals with such seriousness that hunger could reduce even her skilled piano playing to mediocrity.
"[Shall we go up?]"
Himari inhaled the tonkotsu aroma like a fine perfume, then cheerfully guided the family to her studio.
Her workspace occupied the third floor of a commercial building across from the ramen shop.
Though she owned the entire building, the first floor housed a convenience store and the second a café, leaving the third floor solely for her use.
The studio was an open, undivided space—a simple kitchen and dining table on one side, a grand piano standing solitary at its center.
Strangely, it mirrored the layout of Heo Ok’s home.
After shoving her suitcase aside, Heo Ok marched straight to the piano.
In that moment, she ceased to be the present-day Heo Ok, transforming into Jade—the jazz pianist who had once reigned supreme.
Her sharp gaze swept over the instrument as she inspected it.
Himari appeared slightly tense yet quietly self-assured.
"[You’ve maintained it well.]"
Heo Ok refused to tolerate even a grain of dust on the piano.
"[A piano must never idle. It seems you’ve played consistently.]"
"[Naturally.]"
"[Then shall we hear you play?]"
The instant Heo Ok finished speaking, Himari strode confidently to the piano and sat.
"[Watch me closely, please.]"
Heo Ok offered a faint smile at Himari’s words.
"[What does a retired old woman know? I’m here only to enjoy your performance. The evaluation belongs to this child.]"
With that, Heo Ok summoned Yeon-woo.
"[Your… grandson?]"
"[I told you I’d introduce someone who plays better than me.]"
Himari’s confident expression froze.
"[No, that’s impossible… Wait—can this child even discern such things? He’s just a boy.]"
She stared at Yeon-woo, who now ‘presumed’ to judge her.
Heo Ok declared,
"[Indeed. Before showcasing your skills, our child should play first.]"
She turned to Yeon-woo and asked if he would play. He nodded immediately.
Himari vacated the seat, and Yeon-woo settled before the piano.
As they observed the child’s uncharacteristically solemn demeanor, Heo Ok remarked,
"[His technique may still lag behind mine, but the depth of his jazz already surpasses me.]"
Himari jolted, staring at Heo Ok.
The claim defied belief.
Heo Ok might not have been history’s greatest, but she was her era’s finest jazz pianist—
A living legend once called “jazz incarnate,” the witch of her generation.
And this child had transcended her?
As disbelief hung thick in the air, Yeon-woo’s hands settled on the keys.
‘Jazz’ began.
