[CONTENTID1] CHAPTER 2 [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2] First downbeat: The principal chair [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

♮

The sound of flying runs and convoluted accidental runs sounded throughout the music department of Neo Cultural Technical University, the rolls of the timpani reverberating as if one with the heartbeat of the boy who stood before the heavy band room doors.

It was 10 minutes before the start of the first Wind Orchestra rehearsal of the year. From the rumors that were passed after the audition results, the musicians in the wind orchestra were supposedly exceptionally skilled at their practice. Of course to the boy, that went without saying - he believed that there was never a prolific musician who did not practice. Even Mozart, who was blind, had trained his ears to deliver the art appreciated still today!

For a science and music school, it was no conspiracy that the music majors would receive higher seats than those of other majors. It wasn't that the others were tremendously terrible at the art, but more because the music majors had received supplementary lessons that had always put them a step ahead of those of other majors. For that reason, the new set of wind orchestra players for the academic year stood out in that 37 out of the 45 players were from the freshman class. What shook the university like a storm, though, was the fact that those specially selected 37 musicians were science and music performance double majors, who had bumped the previous principal seats down a level to the Wind Ensemble. Not only were they considered to be music prodigies but they were also geniuses in the top 5th percentile of their science studies. (A/N: Wind Orchestra is the first tier band, and Wind Ensemble is the second)

Doyoung was one of those students.

When he had first heard of the results, his head spun as if he was drugged and thrown into a violent rollercoaster. He was completely dazed. Opposite of his evaluation of himself, the acceptance email had read that he had exceptional in drawing emotions out of every note - even in the 32nd note runs (A/N: a very quick note). Apparently it was, to quote: "refreshing to see a musician who cared to have given color to every black note, even making the rests in between filled with chromatic anticipation.”

Not sure what that means

Doyoung did it for fun - he loved to deliver his war-like heart through his instrument and into the notes splayed across the sheets. It was better than cursing every second the world had wronged him.

"I can finally do something to get my mind away from that jerk at our Med Club meeting today." The boy had murmured with an annoyed sigh.

"That's obviously aspirin - blah blah blah" he mocked

He clutched the strap of his slightly worn oboe case that was embroidered "Kim Do Young"

"I just hope I can play to meet everyone's expectations..."

Doyoung twisted the door handle and pulled the door open, the sound of zipping scales in every timbre amplifying as we stepped in.

"... especially my principal seat."

As an oboist, Doyoung had found his way towards the middle of the front row next to the flutes - the standard position that they were usually placed. As Doyoung pieced together his instrument, arpeggios and skillful scale modifications were exchanged between the 45 musicians in the room. Despite being a artful musician himself, Doyoung was nervous in the presence of such musical talent. Opposite of his curt outward appearance, he shook while trying to align the parts of instrument. By