CC 10

Chapter 10

## 4. The Night the Stars Aligned the Path (2)

Thursday at Restaurant Gabriel.

Even normally, the seats are usually over 70% full, but on Thursdays, Gabriel is especially crowded. And only for the second seating.

Seeing the number of waiting list notifications for empty seats exceed 50, a smile blooms on Jang Yonghwan’s face.

‘Since word spread, we’ve been getting more and more customers.’

Thanks to guests who couldn’t reserve Thursday’s second seating visiting the restaurant at other times or on other days instead, the restaurant’s situation is gradually improving.

‘A lucky charm has come in, a lucky charm.’

He’s ashamed of himself for not recognizing such talent and making him wash dishes. If it weren’t for Ahn Sunghoon, he might never have known.

After checking the time, the staff begin receiving second seating guests. Jang Yonghwan, who always greets guests at the door when they enter, checks his attire and stands at the counter, then is surprised.

“Oh, Conductor. Didn’t you come last week too?”

Jeong Myeonghwan speaks with an embarrassed smile.

“Today, members of our orchestra came as well.”

“Ah, members of the Banpo Orchestra.”

Jeong Myeonghwan introduces a white-haired elderly man.

“This is our principal violinist, Lee Yeongho.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.”

“And this is the violinist Hyerim, who came with me last time.”

“I’m glad to see you again. Now, I’ll guide you to the best seats.”

After sitting down, Hyerim looks at the empty piano.

“Conductor. Is there really such an amazing pianist in a place like this?”

Jeong Myeonghwan smiles with his eyes.

“The pianist Hyerim is looking for was at the Han River—why wouldn’t he be at a restaurant?”

“Ah.”

Lee Yeongho speaks after carefully leaning his violin case against the wall.

“Genius musicians don’t appear so easily, but since the Conductor says so, I’ll look forward to it.”

Hyerim makes a tearful face.

“Teacher! So you didn’t believe me?”

“Haha, well…”

“Really! Hing.”

“Haha.”

Around the time the appetizers come out.

Finally, Suho goes up on stage.

Then Jeong Myeonghwan quickly pops the appetizer into his mouth.

At the unrefined table manners, both Lee Yeongho and Hyerim’s expressions become blank simultaneously. Because the usual Jeong Myeonghwan was practically a lump of refinement.

“Conductor? What did I just see?”

At Hyerim’s question, Jeong Myeonghwan smiles awkwardly.

“When the performance starts, you’ll understand what I mean.”

“……”

Suho’s performance begins.

And a moment later, Lee Yeongho and Hyerim find themselves frozen with forks in hand for a full 4 minutes and 30 seconds.

Awakened from the illusion by the sound of applause, Lee Yeongho murmurs softly.

“Chopin Mazurka No.49 in F minor, Op. 68 No. 4…”

An emotion closer to a quiet testament than splendor.

This dance piece, like a landscape faded somewhere, evokes not so much a dance as a shadow slowly swaying in memory.

The harmony is simple, but within it, resignation, nostalgia, and an indescribable longing—as if someone who left home, knowing they can never return, calls out a name one last time.

Rather than tears pouring out, it was a performance where one side of the heart quietly cools.

Lee Yeongho speaks while clapping softly.

“The Conductor was right. It was truly an amazing performance.”

Jeong Myeonghwan smiles looking at Lee Yeongho’s hand.

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m telling you. You’ve been holding that fork for five minutes.”

Lee Yeongho discovers himself still holding the food he had speared on his fork to eat the appetizer, and smiles embarrassedly.

“The Conductor was right about this too, haha.”

Jeong Myeonghwan smiles and looks at Hyerim.

She too is still holding her fork, unable to take her eyes off Suho.

Jeong Myeonghwan waves his hand in front of Hyerim’s eyes.

“Hyerim. Snap out of it now.”

“Ah.”

Hyerim swallows and puts down the fork she was holding. Then she keeps rolling her eyes. Jeong Myeonghwan, who expected her to praise the performance endlessly, throws a question at her strange reaction.

“What’s wrong?”

Hyerim keeps rolling her eyes as if she can’t hear Jeong Myeonghwan’s question.

“Hyerim?”

“Just a moment.”

Hyerim springs to her feet and heads toward the stage.

Jeong Myeonghwan grabs her.

“Speaking to someone on stage is a great rudeness, Hyerim.”

Jeong Myeonghwan is right. Even if he only performs once every 10 minutes, he is on stage. She must not disturb a performer sitting at the piano with eyes closed, seemingly contemplating the next music to play.

Hyerim looks at Suho with a regretful face, then finally sits back at the table, and Jeong Myeonghwan asks.

“What’s wrong?”

Hyerim looks back at Suho and speaks.

“The pianist at the Han River. I performed with that person. You know what I mean, Conductor, right? The difference between being a simple audience member and performing a concerto together.”

“Hmm, you mean the phenomenon where a vastly superior performer leads a lesser performer to a higher place?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s why I felt I had improved a level too.”

Lee Yeongho chimes in.

“It’s not just a feeling—it’s actually true. Hyerim has changed a lot since that day.”

She could be modest about the principal violinist’s acknowledgment, but that’s not the issue right now. She speaks without taking her eyes off Suho.

“Just now… I felt what I felt then, again.”

Jeong Myeonghwan blinks.

What is Hyerim saying right now…

Jeong Myeonghwan’s eyes fly open and he looks at the window.

‘The Banpo Han River area is… a 10-minute walk from here.’

Gabriel’s first seating is at 6 PM.

Hyerim met the Han River pianist around 5:50 PM.

All the puzzle pieces are falling into place. But this coincidence, like fate, is hard to believe.

“No way.”

Jeong Myeonghwan and the three others endured the longest 30 minutes in the world to the end.

Of course, when Suho performed, they lost themselves and were drawn into the illusion, but during the breaks, their hearts burned.

And finally, when Suho finished his last performance and exited to thunderous applause, Jeong Myeonghwan quickly ran to the kitchen entrance with Hyerim.

“Excuse me, Kang Suho!”

Suho, who was about to take off his shirt, turns around, spots Hyerim, and brightens.

“Ah, that time.”

Hyerim points at herself with the same expression.

“Do you remember me?”

“I’m sorry about then.”

“What?”

“I was so happy to see a piano that I barged in without permission.”

Hyerim jumps for joy.

“Finally! We finally met! My goodness! So you were working part-time here that day too?”

“Yes, I wanted to talk for a bit after the performance, but I thought I’d be late for my part-time job, so I just ran.”

“Ah, so that’s why you ran off without even looking back.”

Jeong Myeonghwan narrows his eyes at Suho, unable to believe the pull of fate.

“Haven’t we met somewhere before?”

Suho looks back and forth between Jeong Myeonghwan and Hyerim.

“Almost… every day, I think.”

“What?”

“Near the piano at Hangang Park. Weren’t you there every day?”

“You saw us?”

“Yes, I run there every day.”

A tall man in a hood comes to Jeong Myeonghwan’s mind.

“Ah… that time, that.”

Jeong Myeonghwan slaps his forehead.

“We had him right in front of us and didn’t recognize him. What a fool.”

Suho speaks while taking off his shirt.

“I’m sorry, but my dishwashing is backed up.”

“D-d-dishwashing?”

“Yes, I’m the dishwashing part-timer here. I have to return right after the performance to finish preparing the dishes before the third seating. I’m sorry, but I’ll be going in.”

“……”

Jeong Myeonghwan and Hyerim are struck dumb. Hyerim, staring blankly at Suho entering the kitchen and actually starting to wash dishes, speaks.

“Someone like me is a formal orchestra member… and that person washes dishes?”

Jeong Myeonghwan shakes his head.

“This is truly absurd.”

Eventually, after watching Suho wash dishes for a long while, Jeong Myeonghwan returns to the table and calls Owner Jang Yonghwan.

“Owner, just a moment.”

“Yes, Conductor.”

As Jang Yonghwan approaches, Jeong Myeonghwan asks.

“About Kang Suho. What time does his work end?”

“He’s the one who stays the latest to clean up. The restaurant has last order at 9:30 and closes at 10, and everyone leaves by 10:30. That friend locks up the restaurant last and goes home.”

Jeong Myeonghwan checks his watch and nods.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Lee Yeongho asks.

“What are you going to do?”

Jeong Myeonghwan glances at Hyerim and speaks.

“I’d like to invite him to give the orchestra members an experience like Hyerim had.”

“Hmm… I think some members might object.”

The Banpo Orchestra has many people with tremendous academic backgrounds. Hyerim alone graduated from the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna, one of the best. Receiving lessons from a mere high school student? Proud members might dislike it.

Jeong Myeonghwan smiles.

“Does the Principal still think the same after seeing that performance?”

“…No, I don’t.”

“The members will be the same. If they have ears, that is.”

—

Due to the restaurant’s policy, meal times are set at two hours, so the three people who killed time at a nearby cafe after the second seating ended came to the restaurant around 10:40 PM.

Hyerim looks up at the restaurant with an anxious expression.

“Conductor, it seems too late. All the lights are off.”

Jeong Myeonghwan scratches his head.

“I lost track of time having a deep conversation with the Principal about Beethoven.”

Lee Yeongho steps forward.

“But we’ve waited this long, so let’s go up and see.”

As the three climb the stairs, they encounter a man. He was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, then sees the three and speaks.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

Jeong Myeonghwan recognizes the face of the man standing in the darkness.

“Chef Ahn?”

“Ah, Conductor. Didn’t you leave earlier? Did you forget something?”

“Ah, no, I came to meet someone. Why are you standing here alone, Chef Ahn?”

Ahn Sunghoon smiles and looks up at the restaurant.

“There’s a pleasure that can only be heard at this hour.”

“What?”

“Would you like to come in and listen?”

A moment later, a piano performance is heard.

Lee Yeongho murmurs softly at the performance coming from the restaurant.

“Chopin Étude Op.10 No.2.”

As the title suggests, this is an etude. It means a piece Chopin simply created to train himself or to warm up his hands. That’s why this piece contains many techniques.

Also, this piece is unusually difficult among Chopin’s etudes. Because it’s a piece that pushes to the limits of technique a human can implement.

Ahn Sunghoon speaks while looking up.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Listening to Suho’s performance feels exactly like reading poetry.”

Lee Yeongho lets out a self-deprecating laugh.

‘An etude, poetry?’

It’s different from other pieces. An etude is a piece for practice. There’s no way such a piece could deliver poetry…

Just as he thinks that, Yeongho feels a tingling sensation all the way to his toes and the feeling of hair standing on end all over his body.

The moment the notes begin as if brushing past,

He felt that something dangerous was beginning.

The thin, quick movements of the right hand

Were like a shadow running on glass.

Rather than a melody, a whisper,

Rather than a whisper, a secretive mockery.

It doesn’t explode brilliantly.

Instead, like a thin blade, quietly,

Yet precisely, it cuts through the senses.

It wasn’t a poem of clear emotion like during the performance, but Lee Yeongho had to admit it.

He purses his lips and speaks to Jeong Myeonghwan.

“The finance department said they can’t spend more than 800,000 won per hour on lesson fees…”

Jeong Myeonghwan grins, showing his teeth.

“This is probably the cheapest he’ll ever be. We need to move right now.”