Chapter 18:

Tempo slumped on his chair, his small face pressed against the table in a blank stare into space, and the little four years old was bored to tears.

For the past few hours, TOP had left him in one of Mithra Jin’s boring classes while TOP went to have a meeting with a director on his next upcoming projects.

“Nowadays if you ask most people to give a definition of rap, they're likely to state that it's the reciting of rhymes to the best of music. It's a form of expression that finds its roots imbedded deep within ancient African culture and oral tradition. Throughout history in America there has always been some form of verbal acrobatics or jousting involving rhymes within the Afro-American community.

Modern day rap music finds its immediate roots in the toasting and dub talk over elements of reggae music. In the early 70's, a Jamaican dj known as Kool Herc moved from Kingston to NY's West Bronx….”

Mithra Jin lectured on while Tempo looked around the classroom and saw many faces that were staring into space. No one was paying attention to the lecture.

After another half an hour's lecture, Mithra Jin rounded his desk and at last put his hand on the table. “Now, I have lectured that rap is about a form of expression,” he said. “Let’s have a volunteer to show what rap is about, shall we?”

In that instant, all the trainees sat up a little straighter and around twenty hands shot into the air. Mithra Jin smiled and surveyed the class. His eyes rested briefly on the largest concentration of lowered arms in the room. Sean’s son, Harang and Tablo’s daughter, Haru sitting with lazy disinterest, clearly of the opinion that such rap were beneath their talent.

“I'm pleased to see that we have so many interested parties,” Mithra Jin said. “I hate to have to pick…”

Harang yawned very, very loudly, slapping the palm of his hand against his open mouth so that it made a popping sound.

“Mithra Jin sunbea nim,” Harang sang before he crossed his legs and put one his elbows on his table, grubby hand cupping his chin as he watched Tempo.

 “I heard that TOP sunbea nim’s son is in the same room as us, trainees. Am I right?” Harang pointed out.

Mithra Jin nodded curtly as he studied Harang’s expression carefully. “Yes, TOP‘s son is in the same room as us due to certain circumstances. What is your interest in him?”

Harang his chin.

“I would like to suggest TOP sunbea nim’s son to show what rap is about. After all, TOP sunbea nim is one of the best rappers in Korea. I believe that his son have the same talent as him.” Harang offered.

For a moment, Tempo couldn't move. He was in shock when he heard someone suggesting him to rap. He’s only four and he is not even a trainee, for god’s sake! The thought of him rapping in a room full of trainees older than him was ridiculous. It was preposterous. It was insane.

“Well, that’s an interesting suggestion,” said Mithra Jin graciously as he let his eyes rest on Tempo for a moment. Tempo had his head lowered so Mithra Jin couldn't make out his expression. “Tempo, would you like to try?”

Tempo cringed at the sound of his name, unconsciously slouching lower in his seat.

“Please,” Tempo begged. “I have not tried rapping before.”

“'That's all right, I have heard from your father that you are a smart boy, and I would love to be the first person to listen to your rap.” Mithra Jin encouraged.

The knowledge that his father had spoken well of him lent Tempo a small measure of courage. Somehow he managed to stand and to trudge up to the front of the room. He stood hesitantly off to one side, a wary eye on Mithra Jin.

“Now,” Mithra Jin clapped his hands together as he took a step forward. “While Tempo plans out his rap, can anyone tell me how much rap have changed over the years?”

Tempo did not hear anything of the discussion that sprung up. He was too busy trying to remember everything he had learned about rapping few hours ago. Throughout history in America there has always been some form of verbal acrobatics or jousting involving rhymes within the Afro-American community….

Growing increasingly anxious, he tried frantically to recall the many videos that he had watched his father rapped during his younger days. His eyes darted up toward the trainees, hopeful that someone might offer some help. Instead, they didn't seem to notice him, they were listening at something Mithra Jin had said. Harang and Haru were watching him, however, the former with a smug on his face and the latter with a tiny hint of detached interest on her face.

Abruptly Mithra Jin was looking at him again. “Are you ready now, Tempo” he asked.

He was anything but ready, and yet there was nothing he could do. Tempo nodded unsteadily, feeling the stares of the trainees fixed upon him and he wished desperately that he could have the ability to be invisible.

“Very well,” Mithra Jin said contentedly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Go on.”

With a deep breathe, Tempo turned back to the trainees and he could feel the blood draining from his features as his clenched his hands together. His palms were damp and with another deep breathe, Tempo start his rap.

“My dad is an alcoholic.

My family is poor.

My mom has the worse luck.

My head is about to explode.

Money debts always follow me.

Though I have no money, but I’ll keep trying.

This fate of mine, I’ll fight.

I won’t run away.

I will face it or I’ll regret it one day.

There’s a goal in my life and I will do my best to defend it.”

Tempo stopped and the looks of shock on many trainees’ faces made Tempo clenching his fingers into his palm more tightly.

"Let’s go. Wooh!" Tempo ended, unable to think of a suitable response for his rap.

Suddenly, someone began to clap. Almost before Tempo realized that it was Haru, the applause spread through the room. Even Harang had a look of surprise on his face.

Mithra Jin let the applause go on for a moment or two before he raised his hand to gesture for silence.

"An excellent performance, Tempo,” Mithra Jin said in a happy voice. “With more practice, I believe that you could be as good as your father one day.”

Tempo was flushed with pleasure and pride, both in his accomplishment and in Mithra Jin's words of praise. He returned to his seat, where Tempo heard someone cleared their throat very softly beside him.  Tempo turned, startled to see Harang and Haru looking at him.

"That’s a great performance for a kid like you.”  Haru said formally while Harang felt irritated by Haru’s praise.

“Haru, stop praising. It’s getting on my nerves." Harang warned before he leaned his back against his chair.

Haru rolled her eyes, making Harang felt even more irritated by that response.

“I just couldn't help it. No doubt, he is indeed TOP’s son. It’s rare to see such outstanding rap from a kid like him." Haru's smile grew serious. "But all praise aside, I actually wanted to ask you a question, Tempo."

Tempo was not certain that he was comfortable with being approached by someone he scarcely knew, let alone asking him questions. But Haru was the first person to clap after his rap performance.

“What?” Tempo asked quietly, before he moved his body forward, ready to hear Haru’s question.

“Who is your mother?”

Tempo's rap is from TOP's drama, I am Sam.