In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

A video uploaded to MyTube shook the entire Republic of Korea.

These days, to the younger generation he was mostly known as “Sun Wooju’s father,” but once he had been a jazz pianist with nationwide recognition.

The genius who had died in an unfortunate accident was declaring that he would return.

With a performance he had prepared twenty years in advance.

“Did you see this? This? They say he’s Wooju’s father.”

“What...? He filmed this twenty years ago and just kept it?”

Everywhere, online and offline alike, was flooded with talk about Sun Myungju.

“They say Sun Myungju is coming back.”

“How does a dead person come back?”

“They said he recorded a video. Telling people to come watch his performance.”

“Something he filmed twenty years ago...?”

The people reacting the most strongly were the older generation.

When the country had been shaken by the financial crisis.

Because everyone remembered the musician who had been recognized worldwide, including in the United States and Japan.

Of course, most people did not know his music in detail.

Just as people who did not understand golf or baseball still cheered when heroes of the 1990s shone on the field, Koreans had watched his achievements and laughed and cried along with them.

When he died suddenly, the shock had been immense.

For people who had carried that lingering regret in their hearts, this news could not help but be astonishing.

But on the other hand.

‘What is this?’

The younger generation could only feel confused.

The middle aged department heads at the office and other adults nearby were murmuring among themselves, saying things like “That Sun Myungju guy...”

‘Was he really that famous?’

Opening AntWiki, the “Overview” section contained a brief explanation.

“The last genius of the twentieth century.”

It said he had even been included in lists like “100 Jazz Figures,” which mostly selected famous Black musicians from the United States, surpassing barriers of nationality and language.

Among a list crowded with figures from the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, he was almost the only person born in the 1960s.

‘Wow...’

Even just the attached photos made his career look extraordinary.

In one picture he wore something like a medal around his neck.

In another he stood shoulder to shoulder with famous foreign figures whose faces made people think, “Wait, that person?” smiling like a movie star.

“Mom, was someone named Sun Myungju really that famous?”

“Oh, he was incredibly famous in his prime. If people heard he was arriving at the airport, crowds would literally rush over in droves...”

Whenever someone asked if he had been famous, adults would reminisce about the past and testify that “he was incredible.”

Because of that, even minor debates were happening across the internet.

[Sun Wooju today vs Sun Myungju in his prime]

Who do you think was more famous?

Along with that, explanation posts about “who Sun Myungju is” were appearing everywhere.

[Why Koreans are suddenly feeling a generational gap right now]

[The genius musician who still looks incredible today]

[Sun Myungju legendary improvisation stage]

And as the younger generation looked through past footage, they gradually came to understand.

‘No wonder he was popular.’

A flower boy face that would have spread everywhere as legendary reaction images if he had lived in the current era.

An astonishing talent for composition.

And even fan service.

A cat that had wandered onto an outdoor stage climbed onto the piano keys.

In the video, he improvised a piece on the spot, matching the notes the cat struck before hopping down, drawing thunderous applause from the audience.

There were also scenes of him appearing on famous American talk shows, showing quick wit in conversation with the host.

Even now, he clearly possessed immense star quality.

Sun Wooju’s father.

‘Like father, like son.’

It suddenly made sense where his son’s star power had come from.

But beyond all that, there was another reason the keyword “Sun Myungju” was attracting so much attention right now.

What kind of musician prepares a concert twenty years in advance in case of his own death?

It went beyond ordinary passion for music and almost felt like madness.

Seeing the obsession with music his son displayed, people could only think, ‘So it was inherited.’

The artistic aura contained in the video—Sun Myungju’s atmosphere, his face—was sinking deep into people’s hearts.

And.

Reflecting that interest, the same news began appearing on every major broadcast and cable news program.

No matter how famous he had once been, he was a musician who had died twenty years ago.

Twenty years was long enough for mountains and rivers to change twice.

Under normal circumstances it might have been a modest cultural story—people saying, “Oh? A performance after twenty years?”—something mainly discussed in the performing arts world.

But...

The global fame of his son, known far beyond Korea, was creating a butterfly effect that Sun Myungju himself could never have imagined.

Cultural reports from overseas media such as CNN and BBC.

American daytime talk shows.

Explosive search traffic on portal sites and Twitter.

If Wooju’s father had seen it, he might have said in confusion, “Son...? What on earth is this?”

Scenes like that were unfolding everywhere.

And amid all this attention, everyone began focusing on one person’s words.

‘What exactly happened here?’

People were waiting for Sun Wooju to speak.

Everyone was focusing on my mouth.

“......”

I scrolled down the laptop screen with the mouse.

Faces.

Faces.

More faces.

The faces of people from many races and dressed in different styles were divided into grid boxes, stretching endlessly.

[Total participants: 300]

What I was looking at now was a video meeting program, one commonly used for business meetings.

Today was the day for a meeting about my father’s concert and fundraising party.

It had been arranged at the suggestion of the pianist Paul Laurent.

So we had contacted them to try holding a meeting together.

“Paul.”

“Yes?”

“...Didn’t you say this would be a small meeting?”

Paul Laurent looked confused.

“Isn’t this small? Considering the six hundred people who couldn’t even join this meeting.”

“......”

What exactly had my father been doing all his life?

The high pitched laughter of my father and mother from the video echoed in my mind.

Looking at the smiling faces of all kinds of people, I opened my mouth.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sun Wooju, the son of Sun Myungju.”

At that moment voices burst out from everywhere.

They were noisy and lively like a marching band in a plaza.

But when all those voices overlapped—

Hearing the chaotic sounds, people burst out laughing among themselves.

As everyone muted their microphones, they all looked at me with warm expressions.

It felt like uncles and aunts looking fondly at their nephew.

Seeing them resting their chins on their hands and watching me as if I were cute, I deliberately put on a solemn expression befitting the meeting host.

“Ahem. Then let’s begin the meeting.”

Their microphones were muted so I could not hear them, but they were all laughing.

“First, as you saw from the video uploaded to MyTube, I think the first step has been successfully completed.”

Even if my father had been famous, that was twenty years ago.

For an artist from twenty years ago to hold a new performance, public attention was essential.

And the strategy of releasing a teaser on MyTube had succeeded.

Even overseas news outlets were reporting it as “the resurrection of a genius.”

I heard Japan in particular was going wild over it.

Apparently there were reports about my father almost every hour.

I had seen a broadcast where Hashimoto Kenji, who claimed to be my father’s rival, gave an interview.

Remembering the absurd moment made me chuckle as I continued.

“Since we’ve gathered public interest through MyTube, the next step is the fundraising party.”

We had succeeded in drawing attention in the first stage.

Now what remained was securing the budget.

But since I did not know much about fundraising parties, I decided to listen to the experts present here.

People who had long experience with music events offered advice.

I also agreed with the opinion that the best option was to hold the fundraising party during the same week as the AMA and the Thanksgiving parade appearances.

It meant preparing the party in only two weeks, but everyone was full of enthusiasm.

Contact information for famous party planners was shared during the meeting, and Seokhwan was busy taking notes.

Then someone said:

A famous Indonesian pianist among the participants asked:

“Yes.”

The moment the words “unpublished sheet music” appeared, curiosity, anticipation, and excitement filled the faces of the three hundred participants.

They all looked eager to speak.

“Yes.”

“Hmm...”

I spoke carefully.

“Since my knowledge of jazz is limited, I can’t say with certainty... but as a musician myself...”

Gulp.

People swallowed nervously as they waited.

“I believe it’s worthy of the title ‘a performance after twenty years.’”

Gasps spread everywhere.

On one muted screen a British performer could be seen mouthing “Wow,” looking thrilled.

Immediately voices began flying from every direction.

The people my father had discovered had gone on to various fields.

Music columnists.

Saxophonists.

Classical pianists.

Piano tuners.

And many others.

Among them, those who had entered the jazz field were eagerly volunteering.

Regardless of age, they raised their hands with sparkling eyes.

Seeing that made me laugh.

My father would probably have loved seeing this.

At least one worry—how to find performers—seemed resolved.

With so many people offering help in various ways, the discussion moved forward smoothly.

Smiling, I nodded to the hundreds of people telling me to trust them.

Then I slowly wrapped up the meeting.

“Then I’ll see you all again next time.”

After ending the video meeting, I stretched.

“Whew.”

“Good job.”

I smiled brightly at Seokhwan as he patted my shoulder from behind.

The look in his eyes behind his glasses seemed surprised.

“Wasn’t it exhausting? It must’ve been hard doing the meeting in English.”

“I don’t know. It just... wasn’t.”

I didn’t know why, but I kept smiling.

Inside I was telling myself, ‘It’s about Dad! Be serious!’ but the silly grin kept slipping out.

It just felt good.

I knew logically that the video had been recorded twenty years ago.

But whenever I watched it, it felt like my father and mother were hugging me and whispering to me.

“I’ve never felt this happy while having so much work to do.”

“That’s good.”

Seokhwan said my smile made him feel happy too.

I leaned against him and laughed.

After organizing the tablet, he asked me:

“So the only thing left is media related stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Stretching again, I smiled.

“I should go promote it properly.”

“I’m Gu Yongseok. Haha. So this is how I finally get to meet you, Wooju.”

“I’m Hong Aran.”

I smiled as I shook hands with the two anchors who politely extended their hands.

“I’m Wooju. Thank you for having me today.”

“Of course.”

While chatting in the friendly atmosphere, I looked around.

[KTN Evening News]

A studio filled with the distinctive atmosphere of a news desk, along with a metallic logo shining in silver.

KTN’s longest running news program.

The segment called “Today’s Guest” was the program I was appearing on today.

Even at this very moment, the company was being flooded with inquiries.

We had considered holding a press conference but decided instead to appear on an interview program like this.

But since major terrestrial news programs didn’t have this kind of guest segment, we searched among cable and news channels and eventually found this place.

“I suddenly remembered I’d appeared here before.”

“Ah, the hero of Galhyeon?”

Both anchors laughed.

“At first I didn’t realize it, but later a friend showed it to me. He said, ‘Hey, isn’t that you on TV?’”

“When you debuted, Wooju, I kept wondering where I had seen you before. I was shocked.”

Back when I had saved an elderly man in a traffic accident.

This had been the news program that aired the footage that day.

We chatted about how it had already been exactly four years ago, marveling at how quickly time passed.

After several rehearsals.

“Five seconds to live broadcast!”

I briefly looked around the scene where the news control room staff and the camera and lighting directors were moving busily.

“We’ll check your microphone.”

“Yes.”

After confirming that the microphone was properly attached, I entered the interview segment.

As I sat in the guest chair and smiled brightly, my face appeared on the monitor beside the prompter.

“Hello, I’m Wooju of NewBlack.”

“Yes, hello.”

We bowed politely to each other and began the calm interview.

“I received my father’s unpublished sheet music and video only recently. I was contacted from the United States...”

Mentioning the plausible explanation arranged by Arthur Anderson, who had delivered the sheet music, I explained how the performance had been planned.

“The concert is intended to be a charity performance. We plan to raise funds, and all profits from the performance will be used for a foundation supporting young people who want to study music.”

Who gets the profits?

He’s making money off his father.

To counter those kinds of accusations, I made it clear from the beginning that it would be a charity concert.

“The exact date hasn’t been finalized yet, but we’re considering holding the concert sometime early next year.”

“I see.”

“Yes. We want to present the performance as soon as possible.”

After delivering the messages that needed to be conveyed to the public, the interview continued in a relaxed atmosphere.

Questions about NewBlack’s schedule.

How my father’s music had influenced me.

As I answered them one by one, anchor Hong Aran asked the final question.

“While preparing this performance, is there anything you would like to say to your father?”

“Hmm...”

The answer did not take long.

My grandmother, my younger members, our fans.

Thinking of the faces my parents would have wanted to see first if they were here, I smiled.

“I’d like to tell him that right now I’m spending good moments with good people.”

“I’d like to tell him that right now I’m spending good moments with good people.”

“Skip it. Move forward.”

“I’d like to tell him that right now I’m spending good moments with good people.”

“Again.”

Listening to the voice repeating “right now I’m...” over and over, I sighed.

“Stop playing it.”

“Nope.”

“I said stop listening to it...!”

“Look how embarrassed he is.”

Four people were burying their faces into a single phone inside the car, snorting with laughter.

The youngest asked proudly.

“So among those ‘good people,’ what rank are the four of us? What number am I?”

“You’re fourth.”

“Aaaaaah!”

The other three wriggled their shoulders smugly.

Watching the lackeys who seemed thrilled as if their dream was to become giant caterpillars, I laughed quietly.

“Thanks. You guys really helped a lot with this.”

“Well. We’re good at working.”

I laughed at Ri Hyuk’s words.

“Of course, you weren’t helpful at all in terms of actual work...”

“Hmph!”

“But you’re like teddy bears you hug while sleeping... reassuring.”

“Whoa...!”

Realizing the comparison might have been a mistake, I froze, but they were already delighted.

“Did you hear that? He said teddy bear.”

“Does that mean we’re cute?”

“It means lovable.”

They were making their own excitement, beating their own drums.

Watching them burst into giggles and start dancing wildly, I became certain.

If our guys were released as teddy bears, they would probably be returned for having excessive performance.

“Anyway... really, thank you. I’ve been so busy lately I didn’t even get to say thanks.”

Things had been happening nonstop, but I truly was grateful to my members.

Even though it was a good thing, there had been many confusing moments.

And each time, they had been confused right alongside me.

Someone might say that kind of thing wasn’t helpful.

But it actually helped a lot. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

People who make you feel, “You’re not the only one,” are always precious.

“You should appreciate us.”

I smiled at the youngest who was bragging and looked toward a massive building in the distance.

Clapping my hands toward the others, I said:

“Now that the work is mostly wrapped up, let’s properly blow off some steam on stage today.”

“Go go go!”

As the Gocheok Dome stadium drew closer, cheers could already be heard.

“Kyaaaah!”

“Grrr! Grrr!”

“Grr... they’re coming! Waaaah!”

Camera flashes were already sparkling along the red carpet.

[2017 Mango Chart Awards]

MCA, nominated in all three grand prize categories this year.

Today was the day of the first year end music awards ceremony of the year.