Genius of a Performing Arts High

Chapter 2: Bit by bit 4

As the bell marking the end of the Concerted Music lesson rang, the students raced outside.

“Lunch time!”

“Today’s lunch is spaghetti!”

“Wow.”

Wow, watch them go. Blankly seeing them flood out regardless of gender was somewhat frightening. Noh Jusup and the boys led the flock at the front with a few joggers in the middle and some walking elegantly at the very end.

As the kids left in that manner, the classroom was suddenly filled with silence. When I turned over, there were only two people remaining – teacher Ku Mingi and I who was still in the seat.

-Uhuhahaha!

The laughter spreading from outside is quite clear. As expected of opera, even their laughters are no joke.

Shrugging my shoulders, I slowly got up.

Although it was lunch time, there was still something to do. There was something that had to be done before I could properly begin my practices. Putting my hand into my pocket, I could feel a rough texture which I still wasn’t used to.

Galaxy phone.

I had no idea how good of a phone it was in these current times… but one thing was certain. No matter how good the other features of the phone were, it was clear that the recording feature was terrible.

That horrible quality when I recorded it in the toilet…

There was lots of background noise, the musical range that could be recorded was weird and the sound would go strange if I tried to make it louder… listening to it felt like my ears were being tortured.

It was impossible to practise properly with these shabby recording tools.

‘Sigh…’

Walking up to the teacher’s desk, I saw teacher Ku Mingi looking for something from a pile of worksheets.

Is he organising lecture plans?

While I was contemplating on whether I should cough to get his attention or not, the teacher opened his mouth with his head still down.

“Do you have a question?”

Whoa.

Does he have eyes on the back of his head or something… was what I thought but upon a little bit more thought, I realised that he probably heard my footsteps.

Feeling a bit embarrassed I carefully opened my mouth.

“Ah, yes. Sir. I was wondering if I could borrow the mic during every lesson.”

“Mic?”

When I pointed towards the microphone that was near his desk, he raised his head up. I could see curiosity in his eyes.

“My phone’s not very good at recording. I want to go through the lesson but there’s no real tool to record with… so I was wondering if it was possible to borrow the mic during the lessons.”

Recording.

If it was someone who planned to make a living out of singing, it was an act that had to be embedded into their daily lives. It was because the voice you heard while singing was different to your actual voice.

Scientifically it goes through bones and blah blah blah but, even without knowing all that, it was easy to tell once you’ve tried recording your voice once.

And that will tell you; this is how my voice sounds to others.

“Recording…”

Teacher Ku Mingi stroked his own chin before smiling and kindly nodding his head.

“Of course. Since I record all my lessons anyway, that doesn’t matter. In fact, I’ll just give you the recordings. I have today’s one, did you want it as well?”

“Yes please. Thank you.”

When I took out the USB I had prepared beforehand, he placed the recording file onto it. I could see the loading bar slowly being filled up on the screen.

Phew… that’s good. Now I’ll be able to properly listen to my voice.

‘I’m kind of looking forward to it.’

How is my voice?

I had not had the opportunity to analyse my timbre after coming back in time so I was very anxious about it, but now that the chance was right before me, I felt expectant. My voice 20 years ago would surely be very different to the voice after 20 years so I had no clue how it would be.

‘It certainly feels a lot softer than how it was after 20 years.’

Naturally this too was only a prediction. An opera singer must not believe in their own voice – they should only believe in others’ evaluations and recorded versions of their voice. Rather than being nice to hear from my perspective, it had to be more beautiful to the listeners’ ears, and achieving that was what opera was about.

While I was organising my thoughts, I observed the mic in front of me.

‘This is a pretty expensive mic.’

The way I sang previously was also by instinct. Guessing how the voice would sound after feeling it through the bones, was how I had done it. Listening to the recording and practising with a proper analysis of the timbre as the basis would definitely enable a better sound.

Soon, the file had finished transferring.

“Thank you.”

After receiving the USB, I lowered my head to which the teacher replied with a smile and a wave of his hand.

“No worries. Students should naturally know how to ask for these things. An attitude that’s willing to learn even one thing more; you indeed have a good talent. As expected.”

“Thank you.”

Lowering my head one more time, I placed the USB into my pocket when teacher Ku Mingi asked a question on a fly.

“By the way, did you choose the teacher for Specialist Practising?”

“Specialist Prac?”

Tilting my head and thinking for a bit, my body soon froze.

Specialist Prac.

Did he really just say that?

I stared at the teacher with my eyes filled with confusion, but he was still wearing a warm smile. He tapped on my shoulder twice and walked past me who was still frozen.

“Give it some thought.”

Kung.

The door soon was closed.

Gazing at that, I was soon barely able to open my mouth.

“Did he just nominate me…?”

*

Specialist Prac.

Once a week, for one hour, it was the time for a 1 to 1 lesson with a Prac teacher.

Lesson time – putting it that way may make it seem like an every day lesson but it was totally different. This was perhaps one of the most important things in the Arts High.

“Hmm…”

Walking down towards the school cafeteria, various complicated thoughts started flowing past. I had received an invitation for Specialist Prac by that Ku Mingi. That teacher Ku Mingi.

The famous baritone who until 5 years ago had travelled the world to stand on numerous opera and stages. He who could choose to stand on Met if he was bored…

That teacher Ku Mingi had said in a roundabout way that he would accept me as a disciple.

‘No, it could be me overthinking it.’

I tried to regain my rationality.

‘Give it some thought’ was very ambiguous. Maybe he meant that he would give me some lessons if he felt like it. If I over-thought it and turned out that teacher Ku Mingi didn’t mean it that way…

‘But would they normally talk directly to the students like that?’

No no, let’s not overthink it. In any case, receiving a few lessons was a great opportunity already. He was a baritone teacher with a tone similar to mine so it should be of help.

It is an opportunity but…

My head tilted by itself.

‘But I already have a teacher in mind.’

Before my time travel, the one who had led me to the world of opera, my benefactor.

Teacher Kwak Jungsoo.

He was a teacher I truly appreciated and respected and perhaps was the best teacher from my point of view. A teacher who had turned a nameless brat into a famous baritone – if I, who now had loads of experience from my time travel, learned from him…

After some thought I shook my head.

“I don’t know~”

Let’s eat first before thinking.

Raising my head, I realised that I had arrived at the main building’s entrance. Slamming the doors open, I was met with the cold March wind.

“Ah, couldn’t they have connected the main building and the cafeteria with a corridor? Why is it outside?”

Running and murmuring some complaints, I soon arrived at the entrance.

Lunch time. It seemed I wasn’t that late. There were still signs of first graders pushing each other as they entered the cafeteria.

Right, the meal was in the order from 3rd graders downward. I could understand why the first graders were having their meals now.

Following behind the kids through the automatic door, the clean inside of the cafeteria entered my eyes.

Future Arts High Cafeteria.

I could see expensive-looking marble tables here and there. On top of that there was the clean wooden texture on the walls, as well as the black tiles on the floor. The elegant lamps…

A rich school indeed. Queueing up for the food, I realised that the trays we were given were not made of steel and were instead of white ceramic.

A short train of thought flashed in my head.

‘My admission fees were put into these.’

… Am I too much like an old man to think like this…

Receiving the food and looking for an empty seat, I could see the big head of the elongated Noh Jusup. I could tell with a glance that Han Dasom and Lee Suh-ah were sitting next to him with their own food.

Watching that made me suddenly feel betrayed.

Now that I think of it, that Noh Jusup just left me while I was receiving the file and ran away by himself. Should I give him a fist to his head… I was thinking until Noh Jusup found me and waved his hand.

“Oh Yunjae. Were you at the toilet?”

Lee Suh-ah who was sitting next to him glared at him.

“Don’t talk about toilets when we’re eating. It’s dirty.”

“Puph.”

I didn’t go, you…

Sitting down with a sigh, I placed the tray down. When I picked up the fork and looked up, there was Han Dasom. Seeing how she was giggling, it seemed that she had found the toilet joke funny.

Right, smile. Smiling made her appear brighter and looked better. It resembled my memory of her appearance on the TV. She didn’t have her bangs back then, and wasn’t that a lot better than it being messy like right now? Well maybe it wasn’t something I, who had no sense of fashion trends could say.

Suddenly remembering Han Dasom’s voice during the concerted music, I gave her an honest compliment.

“You are good at singing. The soft diction was nice.”

“Uh…?”

Her eyes trembled strongly and she lowered her head.

“Thanks…”

The reaction she gave was enough to make me, the speaker feel awkward. She was really shy. How did a girl like this decide to become an idol? I stared at her swinging bangs before looking away.

She must’ve had her own reasons.

Getting rid of the side thoughts, I stabbed the spaghetti with the fork. The white cheese mixed here and there within the red tomato-based spaghetti could be seen. Rolling the noodles into a circle and pulling it straight up, the cheese would follow and made it pleasing to the eye.

The mozzarella was on point.

Carrying the fork into the mouth, the smell unique to spaghettis filled the nose. A sour tomato sauce, and noodles that properly soaked all that in, along with the smell of fresh cheese.

Damn, it wasn’t some heated up frozen stuff. It really was a school that was expensive for a reason.

While I was busy indulging myself to the spaghetti, Lee Suh-ah started a conversation.

“So where were you actually”

Glancing to the side, I found her wearing an indifferent expression while having some soup brought to her mouth. Her posture appeared quite elegant.

“To receive the recording. I wanted to listen to what I sang during the lesson for some feedback.”

“Is that so?”

Lee Suh-ah then placed the soup she had been eating to the side and took out a phone before typing something in.

*

Song Mirae tilted her head.

“That’s weird…”

Jun Shihyuk raised his head and looked at Song Mirae. Noticing that her eyes were facing somewhere, he followed her gaze and found Jo Yunjae’s group chattering away at the table next to them.

“What is”

“That guy, Jo Yunjae.”

Twitch. Jun Shihyuk’s eyebrows slightly raised themselves up.

“What about him”

Oblivious to Jun Shihyuk’s uncomfortable feelings or not, she quickly continued her words.

“He’s so different to what I had seen at the interview. Both his singing skills and his attitude. When I saw him at the interview it was really the worst so I was really surprised when I saw him sing today. If he sang like that during the interview I wouldn’t have been so upset when he said that to me so why…”

Listening to Song Mirae’s continuous complaint, Jun Shihyuk stopped his fingers.

Jo Yunjae.

He was the type of person Jun Shihyuk hated the most.

People that didn’t try hard.

Jun Shihyuk turned his head back and glanced over Jo Yunjae. A skinny body without a sign of trained breath, vocal cords that weren’t used to singing and severely lacking resonating chambers.

His body made it obvious.

That he pretty much had never practised.

“Tch.”

If they loved singing, no, even had a tiny bit of interest in singing, they wouldn’t have a body like that. Becoming somewhat upset, he used his spoon to swirl the soup.

“Maybe he sang half-heartedly back then.”

“Was that how it was? Well, he was better than during the interview but compared to you, he was still far below.”

Soon losing interest, Song Mirae bustled around before taking a selfie and uploading it onto SNS.

A flash on the tray and a flash on her prettiest expression.

[Today’s lunch is spaghetti!]