The Day After Meeting Shunji.
Yeonwoo looked at Himari's fairy. At first, he thought it was a piano fairy, but after spending time with Himari's fairy, he realized what kind of abilities it possessed.
Himari's fairy is a fairy of composition. Considering Himari became globally renowned more for her compositional skills than her piano prowess, this made perfect sense.
Moreover, Himari's fairy showed great favor toward skilled piano players—or more accurately, toward Heuk's piano, as Yeonwoo perceived it.
This allowed Yeonwoo to easily receive abilities from the fairy.
The disappointment lay in how most abilities were things Yeonwoo already understood instinctively, rendering them unnecessary.
It merely clarified concepts he’d vaguely contemplated.
The sole consolation was its power to deepen emotional expression, enabling him to imbue his music with clearer intent.
Using this ability, Yeonwoo...
“This is Booger 2 and Fart 2.”
He expanded Jiyeong’s so-called "Sonata to Make Children Laugh" into its first and second movements.
“[Does this... even make sense?]”
When Shunji spoke to Himari—who stood beside him instead of translating—she replied with equal discomfort.
“[I’m equally perplexed.]”
Shunji reeled in shock and horror upon learning these sophisticated classical and jazz pieces revolved around poop and farts.
-What’s the title of this masterpiece? It’s as if Chopin himself has returned!
-...Booger.
-??
-What about this jazz piece? It evokes Duke Ellington, the Mozart of jazz!
-Fart.
...Just imagining the audience’s reaction made him lightheaded.
“[Who would name such pieces ‘Booger’ or ‘Fart’?! This crosses the line!]”
“[But he’s expressing his genuine feelings.]”
“[Next you’ll tell me there’s a ‘Pee’ or ‘Poop’ movement!]”
“[How’d you guess? I haven’t made ‘Pee’ yet, but ‘Poop’ is done—the third movement.]”
“[…….]”
Shunji stared wordlessly at Yeonwoo.
With childlike innocence, Yeonwoo gazed vacantly at the piano before resuming play.
This time, it wasn’t scatological humor but free jazz.
“Hah...”
Though initially unsettled by the themes, Shunji soon lost himself in the performance.
The boy was extraordinary.
Half a year? And already rivaling Heuk’s prime?
‘This is true genius.’
Unlike Himari or Heuk—whom he’d begrudgingly acknowledged—Shunji loathed the very concept of prodigies.
Specifically, he despised Japan’s media circus around so-called “genius” children.
His standards for the title were merciless.
The globally celebrated Himari? A mere imitator of Heuk. Heuk himself? Only a genius in work ethic.
No musician of this era had ever met Shunji’s criteria for innate musical genius.
Until now.
The boy before him was Shunji’s first genuine prodigy in eighty years.
He smelled it. The scent of money.
This genius was irresistible.
He yearned to record these cursed compositions immediately—titles like “Booger” and “Fart” that would crush lesser musicians’ spirits.
“[Himari, can’t we persuade Heuk? Letting this talent rot is unconscionable.]”
“[I’ve tried... but Teacher says he lacks authority. Only his son can decide.]”
“[His son? So that’s why Heuk does nothing.]”
Knowing Heuk had abandoned his children to flee Japan—then America—Shunji stroked his chin.
“[Keep scheming, and I’ll intervene.]”
A frosty voice from behind made Shunji jump.
“[S-scheming? I was merely admiring his genius!]”
“[I heard every word.]”
“[...Don’t you agree it’s wasteful?]”
“[That’s for Yeonwoo and his father to decide.]”
“[Ah... I see.]”
Shunji studied Yeonwoo.
The father remained in Korea. The boy was the key.
Young enough to be coaxed.
First impressions mattered.
“[So... you want guitar lessons?]”
Start with the child’s desires.
“Grandpa Shunji’s asking if you want to learn guitar!”
“Yes!!”
“[Hmm. Ever played before?]”
Yeonwoo scrambled to fetch his guitar—a cherished gift from his father, carried everywhere like a security blanket.
“[What an adorable instrument. Play something for us.]”
“He wants you to play.”
"Yes!"
Yeonwoo adjusted his posture and began playing the guitar.
Shunji’s eyes widened in surprise.
Anyone who saw Yeonwoo’s technique would be amazed. Who in this day and age would play exactly like Wes Montgomery?
“Did you meet Wes Montgomery’s ghost or something? Your technique is spot on! Where did you learn it?”
“YouTube!”
At the mention of YouTube, Shunji’s face twisted in disbelief.
“You learned that from YouTube videos? Seriously?”
“Why not? What’s so impossible about it?”
“Hmm… I guess geniuses are just different, no matter what they do.”
A 6-year-old boy teaching himself Wes Montgomery’s techniques through YouTube. And not just piano, but guitar too? The more you saw him, the more impressive he became.
“Guitar is such a fun instrument. But why do you want to learn it when you’re already so good at piano?”
“I composed a song that I think would go well with guitar. I could use software to create it, but I want to play it myself.”
Shunji looked intrigued. “Oh? A guitar solo… What kind of song is it? Can you play it for me?”
After hearing Himari relay the message, Yeonwoo nodded and began playing. He showcased a short, fast-paced solo and said, “I wanted to go ziiing in the middle, but on piano, it just goes ding! To express ziiing, you have to go trrrring-ding!”
Hearing him talk like that, it was clear he was just a kid—a kid without formal training. But so what? No amount of studying could ever match Yeonwoo’s natural talent.
Shunji listened quietly for a moment before turning to the manager and asking, “Do we have an electric guitar here?”
The manager replied, “We might have pianos of all kinds, but…”
“Then go buy one.”
“Huh?”
“There must be a music store around here somewhere. Or at least a Big Camera or Yodobashi Camera store nearby. Go buy one—even a cheap one will do.”
Saying this, Shunji pulled out a bundle of 10,000-yen bills from his wallet and tossed them to the manager with a thud.
“I’ll be right back.”
A short while later, the manager returned with a guitar in hand.
Shunji grumbled, “You really bought some junk,” but he skillfully tuned it and connected it to an amp anyway.
Adjusting his posture, he looked at Yeonwoo and said, “The guitar is like the flower—the centerpiece—of any band in any genre. Even in jazz bands, while pianos might sometimes be absent, guitars almost never are.”
Heeok couldn’t help but interject, “You mean bass guitars specifically,” before quickly closing his mouth again.
Seemingly pleased to have won the argument for once, Shunji smirked mischievously before continuing, “And the genre where guitars shine most beautifully is…”
His hands began moving dazzlingly across the guitar strings as he played a fast-paced version of the song Yeonwoo had just performed on piano—now transformed into something entirely different, flashy, and wild… unmistakably rock music!
“It’s too loud!!”
…Yeonwoo was covering his ears with his hands.
“What do you mean it’s too loud…!”
Rock is undoubtedly one of modern music’s greatest genres.
But cranking up the volume to maximize its impact was enough to make even little ears plug themselves shut.
“…Oh dear…”
With an awkward expression on his face, Shunji lowered the volume slightly and played a quieter version instead. Finally satisfied, Yeonwoo nodded approvingly and said, “Grandpa, you’re amazing! This sounds better than what I imagined!”
Upon hearing the praise, Shunji puffed up proudly and declared, “Hahaha! Behold my Midas touch!”
While basking in his glory, a sudden thought struck him. “By the way… this is a truly remarkable piece. For a young friend to compose something so incredible… Himari should take notes here.”
“Me too!! …I promise I’ll work harder.”
Momentarily flustered, Himari quickly backed down under her boss’s gaze.
“So… is this a finished composition?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the title?”
The title of this piece is “The Final Movement: Sonata That Makes Children Laugh.”
“Pee!!”
“…….”
Shunji, who had poured his heart and soul into performances during his active years, stared at the ceiling after hearing the song title.
An unfamiliar emotion surged through him. Did I really get so fired up to play a song called “Pee”…?
It was what Koreans call hyunta—a sudden crash of disillusionment.
Shunji fell silent, and his first lesson ended in disarray.
After Shunji stepped out for fresh air and Himari retreated to the recording studio to compose, only Hyook and Yeonwoo remained in the workspace.
Yeonwoo picked up the electric guitar Shunji had left behind. It was far too large for her small hands.
She sat on a chair, awkwardly cradling the instrument.
“Do you like the electric guitar?” Hyook asked warmly.
“The sound is fun,” she said, strumming a clumsy jazz riff.
Though she claimed the sound amused her, her eyes stayed fixed on the fairy—a yellow fairy that had materialized for the first time in her six-year life.
Shunji’s fairy reacted unlike the others. When good songs played, blue fairies burst forth in glowing swarms, but this one barely flickered to the same music.
Different standards? she wondered. But what kind?
She tried a playful sonata meant to delight children. Blue fairies cheered, but the yellow fairy remained indifferent.
Next, she attempted free jazz on the piano. The fairy’s apathy was unmistakable.
Odd. Shunji’s grandfather was a jazz guitarist, but even he didn’t seem to love jazz. Is this his influence?
Switching gears, Yeonwoo played Cold Night—the first song she’d ever given to someone else, sung by Kim Beomshin.
At that moment, Shunji’s fairy jolted upright. Its face seemed to morph into a wide-eyed (ㅇㅁㅇ!!) expression as it gasped, “Ooh!!”
A golden glow flooded the room, countless yellow fairies swirling into existence.
Encouraged, Yeonwoo played Fly High and Rising—songs she’d gifted Hadas. The light blazed so brightly it nearly blinded her.
Does it like pop music?
She tested this by playing an awkward track by Ladies, a group that had flopped against Hadas. Blue and red fairies erupted in polarized reactions, but Shunji’s fairy scowled deeper than ever.
What now?
A halting classical piece earned unexpected approval.
Yeonwoo then streamed the current #1 hit on Mango Player. The fairy shone brilliantly.
I’m close.
She played a recent release she personally liked—one that had flopped on charts. The yellow fairy ignored it.
You… you’re an adult, aren’t you?
Shunji’s fairy resonated with adult pragmatism.
In that moment, its golden light felt as rare and radiant as treasure.
