TAEYEON’S STORY

MUSIC

I awoke, feeling confused and disoriented, clearly wasn’t sure where I was or what had awakened me. Relief hit me first, along with a rush of gratitude for I came to realize what had disturbed me from my slumber wasn’t another vivid nightmare about Seungri’s plane crash.

The air of serenity slowly began to ebb when it crossed my mind that I was no longer in Jeju. I was back in Kwon Mansion, alone in the middle of the night, widely awake. I had returned from my ‘honeymoon’ with Jiyong late this afternoon, and because we had spent four days in Jeju instead of two, Jiyong had been forced to go straight to the office with an admonition that I not wait up for him.

With Madam Kwon still in Japan, I had taken advantage of the opportunity to explore the first floor of the mansion, and had shocked the butler and housekeeper by insisting on having supper with them in the kitchen. Mrs. Lee Taeran, or ajumma Lee, as how she was called by everyone in the house except for Madam Kwon, had then insisted in helping me unpack my things, and would have actually dressed me up for the night if I had permitted her.

But I wasn’t comfortable being pampered and I knew better than to get comfortable with that kind of lifestyle. A year seemed like a long period of time but the truth was it would pass quickly and then I’d be on my own again.

Alone.

That seemed like a dismal prospect already, considering the wonderful four days I’d spent with Jiyong. Our talk had broken all the ice between us, no more walls and definitely no hard feeling. We had fun together, a turnout of event that I’d never imagine since the very beginning of this contractual marriage. And fun we had, lots. After our Sunday sail, we’d returned to the beach house to barbecue steaks on the deck just like a regular married couple. The next day, we’d sailed a little bit more around Jeju before settling to play a match of eighteen holes golf at Elysian Jeju Country Club course. I won the showdown but Jiyong was too competitive to let my victory stand. We already had a date to try out the Pinx Country Club for a rematch on Saturday.

On Tuesday, when Jiyong should have been returning to work to prepare for an end-of-the-week meeting with a representative from Korea Tourism Organization, we played hooky instead, walking along the beach, swimming, making each other laugh, and in general behaving like two people who genuinely and truly liked each other. Jiyong had shown me a playful side that I wasn’t sure he knew existed.

Like Jiyong, I hated the fact that the vacation had come to an end but, he had responsibilities, which he and I, both understood clearly can’t be forsaken no matter what. One thing I had wished silently in my heart was even if Jiyong was going to be busy with his company, it didn’t also mean that he would be returning to this stern, ferocious dragon self, just like the unhappy man in the boardroom portrait.

Still wondering what had awakened me, I sat on the edge of my bed with one ear cooked towards Jiyong’s room. It seemed quiet, but I got up anyway and opened the door that joined our room together. No light showed and I was rather feeling disappointed. Either he wasn’t home or he’d already planned to stay for the night at Wisteria.

I closed the door and that was when I heard the music, very faint, and obviously not coming from Jiyong’s room. Curiosity engulfed me as I slipped into the delicate pale gold dressing gown that had been another of the treasures in Jiyong’s gift, and moved into the hall, listening attentively for the music.

To the circle of staircase to my right, I could see a faint light shining up from below. I hadn’t noticed any stereo or music player in my exploration of the first floor, but the music was stronger now. A solitary piano. Playing Chopin. One of his etudes.

Even from here, I had to admit. The music, it was somewhat beautiful. Haunting at the same time. Of course brilliantly played but not by an artist that I recognized.

I had heard all the great pianists. Not in person but on the finest recordings money could buy. Tiffany’s father, Mr. Hwang, had been a classical music enthusiast, something of an oddity in the family who loved jazz. His wife, Mrs. Hwang and Tiffany tolerated his passion, as well as his mediocre piano playing but when he learned that I had a secret passion of my own for music, he’d taken me under his wings, taught me about the classics and the composers, the great pianist.

I had missed the Hwangs terribly. They had been more than just friends to me, they were everything I’d ever wished for a family. The music resonating upstairs made me sadly emotional, and I followed the sound as it reached a crescendo.  It wasn’t until the music faded away that I realized I wasn’t hearing a recording. No sound system on earth could reproduce the percussion of live music.

Who was playing the beautiful masterpiece? Madam Kwon was still in Japan and neither the Lees would have touched the piano for they would have considered it as insolent.

So the only logical answer left was…

Kwon Jiyong.

He was the only one eligible to create the exquisite music that began again in the conservatory. Another Chopin piece, one of my personal favorites. The Prelude in D-Flat, a piece with gorgeous melodies colored by the repetition of a single note that drove the piece forward.

The conservatory doors were shut but a pencil thin shaft of light shone out of the dining room next door. I slipped inside and found the pocket doors between the two rooms were slightly ajar. Jiyong must not have noticed them when he sat down to play.

Unable to resist the brilliant music, I squeezed through the opening and retreated silently into the shadow of one of the huge columns that marched around the perimeter of the enormous conservatory.

Jiyong was on the far side of the room, his shoulders bent over the keyboard, his long fingers played the music like he was drowning with the notes. Even in the faint light, I could see the fierce concentration on his face. I pulled deeper into the shadow and sank to my knees, marveling at the music that came not just from Jiyong’s hands, but his whole body. His soul.

The sweet, lyrical melody floated around and through me, but it soon gave way to a variation that was as darkth as the shadows I was hiding in. The sound built slowly to dark, pulsing chords that struggled against the restraint of Jiyong’s until the music finally burst free, taking my breath away with its intensity and dark beauty.

Then it grew still and restrained again, delicate as summer air, leaving me enchanted, completely unaware of the tears that coursed down my cheeks.

JIYONG’S STORY

MUSIC

The echoes of the prelude died and I looked own at my fingers with something similar to amazement.

God, how could anything that sounded so horrible feel so good? How many years since I’d been drawn to this room, compelled by a force I still didn’t understand to let the music out?

Too many years, obviously. It took practice to play with precision. More importantly, though, playing required and investment of emotion. In order to play music, you had to feel, and that was something I hadn’t done for a long time. Not since I’d been forced to bury the music and assume the reins of my father’s company. The only way I’d been able to survive the loss was to squeeze every last drop of emotion from my hands. And from my heart. This room, this piano, became relics of another lifetime and as long as my heart stayed cold and dead, the music had stayed buried.

But then, Seungri had died, and I hadn’t had the choice but to feel again. The pain of losing someone precious had been too overwhelming to be ignored.  With the pain came other feelings, and that was when I had realized how much I’d missed emotion. Not the pain and the anger, of course. But the passion, excitement, joy and love.

I hadn’t experienced even one of the feelings for years, until the woman who had represented all of those things to my brother walked into my life, carrying the chi