In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Immediately after returning from our one-day tour, I headed to the meeting spot near the hotel.

It was a small jazz bar, and when we arrived the bartender motioned us to a table.

“Ohh.”

I admired the bartender as he wiped a glass with a handkerchief, just like in the movies. While straightening my suit, I glanced at Seok-hwan and the interpreter beside me, both looking tense.

“Why so nervous?”

“After hearing the name Paul Laurent, I looked him up—and he’s even more incredible than I thought.”

“I told you he’s a world-class pianist.”

He was always mentioned in any “Top 5 Pianists” list and was a Chopin Competition winner. Having achieved everything in his career at a young age, he was extremely famous in France.

The interpreter said, “I actually bought his CDs at a record store as soon as I heard his name—I’m a serious classical fan.”

“A signed CD... Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I bought three, just in case. Would you like one?”

“Thank you so much.”

Gratefully accepting the CD, I looked around. The bar was otherwise empty, filled only by soft jazz music.

“It seems we’re the only customers tonight.”

“The agency says they rented the place for the day.”

“...Wow, that’s intense.”

What on earth did he want to discuss with me—enough to rent out a jazz club? And why was it related to my father? I couldn’t guess his purpose.

Just then the door opened and a group entered.

“Bonsoir.”

A smooth voice greeted us. Stunningly handsome, Paul Laurent waved cheerfully as he walked in.

Conversation began in a warm, relaxed atmosphere.

“I’m Paul Laurent!”

“I’m Sun Woo-ju. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Delighted!”

As we shook hands, I felt the strength in his calloused pianist’s grip. Smiling broadly, he introduced the people he’d brought.

“Hello.”

Among them was a Korean interpreter.

“I wanted to ensure I communicated properly. But I see you already had an interpreter.”

The two interpreters exchanged embarrassed glances—each apparently well known in the industry. Paul clapped his hands.

“First, let’s wet our whistles. What would you like to drink? I’ll buy a round.”

“Is there anything non-alcoholic? I can’t drink.”

“Of course.”

I was served a mocktail.

“‘The mocktail you’re drinking is alcohol-free!’”

I thought of Professor Noh Jae-hyun’s joke in my head and forced myself to sip carefully. He smiled warmly.

“Just like my father—he never touched a drop of alcohol. He said even the smell of wine would get him drunk.”

“I’m the same.”

In middle school, I nearly passed out from smelling an alcohol lamp. Sipping the mocktail, I asked, “May I ask how you know my father?”

“Let’s say you once did me an enormous favor in my childhood.”

“A favor?”

“He was the greatest help in my development as a pianist, Sun Myung-joo. Without him, I doubt I’d be here now.”

Paul smiled.

“I should start by explaining how I came to know him. It was a long time ago... about twenty years back.”

He told me that my father regularly performed free concerts for children at an orphanage, and they first met there.

“It was an unforgettable performance—so fluid and beautiful. I didn’t know piano could sound like that until I heard him play. Every child there was captivated by jazz.”

He said he would pay any amount to hear that performance again.

“At that moment, I resolved to speak with him and ask about that music. I sensed something special. So I waited outside the green room.”

“Did you get to talk to him?”

“No.”

He waited so long that by the time the door opened, my father had already left for his next engagement. I paused.

Please don’t be a “trampled childhood inspired me to become a villain pianist” story.

“In the green room was a practice piano. To soothe my disappointment, I timidly tried the keys.”

He tried playing the piece my father had performed that day.

Though he described it as hesitant, given his talent I could already imagine how flawless it must have sounded.

As he played, my father returned unexpectedly.

“He came back to fetch something he’d left. Seeing me at the keys, he looked surprised—and asked a few questions.”

Paul chuckled.

“That day, I left the orphanage to live with and study under that renowned piano teacher.”

Though he was somewhat late to serious training, his talent shone so brightly he became a rising star almost instantly. Their relationship continued.

“He’d visit sometimes and offer advice on my music.”

“So that’s how you two met.”

“Exactly!”

Paul laughed heartily, and we all smiled. His friendly, effervescent personality made the warm story even more enjoyable.

“Shall we take a moment to chat more casually, if you have the time?”

He trailed off, glancing at me expectantly. I could practically see the sparkle in his eyes: “Please say yes!”

“Of course I have time.”

“That’s good. I’ve wanted to speak with Mr. Sun’s son in person.”

He winked and began excitedly sharing stories. His gaze toward me felt almost familial, as if talking to a younger brother. Though I’d never met him before, he seemed deeply invested in our conversation.

“I’ve listened to NewBlack’s music a lot. I heard you’re active as singers in Korea.”

“Really? Our songs?”

“Being a pianist doesn’t mean only listening to classical—you need variety for healthy musical growth.”

He laughed, “I’m a fan of NewBlack.”

“Shall we toast to that?”

We clinked glasses. Impish energy overtook him, and he shifted from French to English mid-conversation—as I did from Korean to English.

“I love how your music always feels progressive—breaking old forms to create something new.”

“That was exactly the impression I hoped to give.”

“Of your songs, ‘Masquerade’ is my favorite—my favorite color is red.”

We traded comments about each other’s music. I mentioned his recent concert.

“I wanted to attend your recital in Korea but couldn’t.”

“You missed it?”

“Unfortunately. I’m a fan.”

“I’ll give you my agent’s contact. Let me know—I'll send you tickets in the best seats.”

He handed me a napkin with his agent’s info, and I laughed gratefully.

When I looked up again, Paul’s party had vanished from our table. His agent and our entourage had quietly moved to a secluded corner—so we wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I didn’t even notice you left.”

“Me neither.”

Paul and I shared a laugh. He said,

“It’s been so refreshing to talk about music without haste.”

“Me too.”

“When you reach the top, friends drift away. It’s not easy to have talks like this.”

He smiled, looking uplifted. Then he glanced at his watch.

“Time has flown. I’d love to continue, but I hear you have a performance tomorrow.”

“That’s right.”

He looked regretful.

“Now, I guess I should get to why I asked to meet....”

“Oh, yes.”

“I wanted you to hear my playing.”

“To hear you play?”

“It might sound odd, but when we last met, I made a promise.”

“The last time...?”

He named October 1999—one month before the accident.

“At our meeting, I played you a piece I’d been rehearsing. I’d grown complacent, and he was disappointed. He didn’t say anything—just smiled.”

Paul’s expression darkened.

“He told me that next time, I should practice properly and play it again.”

“I see...”

“I know it sounds strange—but I wanted to play that piece for you now.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

He beamed, then went to the stage piano. All eyes in the jazz bar turned to him as he tested a few notes.

“Wow...”

Even in those tentative moments, Seok-hwan murmured in admiration. Our interpreters’ eyes widened.

I listened, marveling that he had everything tuned and ready.

As the brief applause died down, under the bar’s soft lights his fingers began to move.

“....”

From the first chord, I felt overwhelmed. The piano’s voice poured out like a cascade of stars. Vivid auroras of color seemed to ripple before my eyes. It was the most perfect five-minute piano piece I had ever heard.

“Woooo!”

When he finished, we leapt to our feet in applause. Paul rose, smiling with relief.

“That was magnificent.”

“I’m glad.”

He wiped sweat from his brow.

“I practiced every day, to keep it alive.”

“It was incredible.”

“I’m relieved you liked it. It feels like a weight off my heart.”

He grinned.

“Thank you for indulging my odd request.”

“Thank you.”

We shook hands. As it was time to return to the hotel for tomorrow’s show, we said our goodbyes.

“Here’s my card—do contact me whenever you like.”

“Really? I will, for sure.”

“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have given it.”

Holding the card embossed “Paul Laurent,” I smiled. It wasn’t just the thrill of possessing a world-famous musician’s contact—it felt like my father would have been proud to see his protégé succeed. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

“But....”

Paul paused.

“This is random, but have you ever heard a piece called ‘Snowy Day’?”

“‘Snowy Day’? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Hm...”

“Why do you ask?”

“It just came to me.”

He looked nostalgic.

“You played it for me once. You said it was a piece for your son, and asked what I thought. I wondered if you might know it....”

“Honestly, I don’t.”

“How unfortunate. That melody stayed with me.”

He hummed part of it, but it was unfamiliar to me. I shrugged.

“It probably vanished like the others.”

Most of my father’s compositions have gone missing—especially those he wrote during his years off, disappearing with the tapes on his flights. It was seventeen years ago; I wasn’t sure.

“I see.”

Paul nodded sadly. Behind him, Seok-hwan conferred with his associates. Then I remembered.

“Could I ask for your autograph?”

“Of course—where?”

Between us we autographed the CDs, including one for the interpreter who beamed with delight.

“Enjoy your remaining time in France. Best of luck with tomorrow’s show. And....”

He said,

“If there’s anything I can help you with, anything at all, let me know. I’ll help like it’s my own concern.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything I can do for your visit? I’d like to return today’s favor.”

“Hm....”

I nearly said no, then an idea struck.

“Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. I smiled brightly.

“I do have one favor to ask.”

The next day, NewBlack TV subscribers received a new MyTube notification.

“NewBlack World?”

It was our overseas-targeted channel, where we’d recently shared videos introducing hanbok costumes and explaining traditional Korean culture in our MV and choreography.

“?”

An interview had been posted. The thumbnail showed NewBlack making shocked expressions alongside a handsome foreigner.

Subscribers clicked in curiosity.

“Pfft!”

Anyone who knew ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) classical music spat out their drink.

“What on earth is he doing here?”

The famously reclusive world-class pianist, Paul Laurent, was on NewBlack TV—in casual clothes, no less.

[An-nyeong-haseyo.]

A Frenchman greeted us in awkward Korean.

[I love you. NewBlack TV.]

...Was this an entertainment show?

I felt my mind go fuzzy.

[Woooo!]

We and our road crew cheered him on, saying, “We love you too!” Classical fans everywhere nearly had heart attacks.

“My worldview is collapsing...”

It felt like the boundary between two worlds had collapsed. What kind of combination was this? Country kids turned chart-topping idols alongside a world-renowned pianist—it was surreal.

– “I keep rubbing my eyes watching this”

– “The guy who mooed like a cow—why is he here?”

– “Paul Laurent on MyTube? (1st shock) On NewBlack TV? (2nd shock) WHAT?!”

– “Is he super famous?”

┕ “One of the top pianists worldwide”

┕ “Why would someone of such caliber appear in this humble spot?”

Worried he’d ask us to eat kimchi or name Korean landmarks, fans braced themselves. Instead, he said:

[I listen to NewBlack’s music regularly.]

Seeing our fanbase astonished, I blinked.

“Why?”

I wondered, but was struck by how he could name our favorite songs. Though spontaneous, the content was rich—much like our earlier interview with Shin Maeda. He asked thought-provoking questions about music, and we laughed and exchanged insights.

Whenever I asked a question, he lit up with pleasure.

“He really wants to talk about this.”

He pinpointed exactly what the artist in him wanted to discuss—scratching an itch for both of us with a radiant smile.

Then, appreciating how intently we listened, he offered advice:

[Remember: art exists for humanity, not the other way around.]

Shortly thereafter, a hilarious moment aired: when he sat down to learn our choreography to “Nakhwa” impromptu, he paused.

Biju asked, [Why the hesitation?]

He smiled wistfully: [It’s been ages since I played a piece by someone still living.]

“...!”

He continued: [Most composers I know died centuries ago or faced the guillotine.]

The bar erupted in laughter.

– “9:17—true enough, lol”

– “My bias is the first living composer ever!”

– “As a dinosaur fan, I relate”

– “Why is his delighted expression so funny?”

– “Indeed—every composer of his repertoire is long deceased”

– “If you want a fan meeting, you’d have to join them in the great beyond”

– “Mozart, Beethoven, and Sun Woo-ju...”

With that, Episode 2 followed the success of Episode 1, and NewBlack World’s new video spread everywhere online.