Chapter 59…
The Piano That Plays at Night (1)
Drip.
“Ch–Chairman?”
“Huh? Oh dear!”
Chairman Yang Mansik of Baeksan Group snapped out of his daze at the call of his son and vice chairman, Yang Byungman, and wiped away the tea that had dribbled from his mouth.
“At first, the board thought parachuting in some ad model was nonsense, but now they’re all amazed by your keen foresight, sir.”
“Ahem. Well, that’s right.”
In truth, Chairman Yang was baffled.
Videos of young men putting on makeup were flooding social media as part of a “challenge.”
Women too joined in, but ended up feeling crushed when they compared themselves to the ad’s star, Woo Suhan.
In that process, BS Cosmetics’ products were naturally exposed, and sales exploded.
What had looked like a nepotistic stunt had turned into “the chairman’s brilliant vision.”
Even his biggest skeptic—Vice Chairman Byungman—was now speaking like this, and Yang couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
“I also heard you’re personally investing in the movie starring this actor, Woo Suhan.”
“Ahem, that’s right. Is that a problem?”
The chairman looked at his son as if to ask, “And why would that be an issue?”
“Shouldn’t something like this have been done at the group level? Of course, I understand you enjoy small hobbies…”
“Ahem.”
Yang coughed, glancing at his son who didn’t know about his late mother’s affairs.
Someday he’d have to explain. But how? If he spoke of spirits and such, wouldn’t his son just worry he’d gone senile? It wasn’t exactly something easy to accept logically.
“Ahem. By the way, I hear the stock price went up a lot?”
“Yes. The challenge craze is part of it, but nearly all subsidiaries saw gains of 9–17% when Woo Suhan’s other ads released around the same time. Cosmetics in particular hit the upper limit.”
“…Ahem, excellent.”
“It’s rare for a single commercial to have this much impact. One could say the gamble of using a supporting-actor-turned-lead really paid off.”
Byungman’s voice brimmed with respect—almost uncomfortably so.
“So I think the group should also invest more for publicity. The scale isn’t that big, and the cost-effectiveness seems favorable.”
“Is that so?”
“The media team reviewed the materials, and they judged the film marketable. These days, smaller, well-made films can outperform expensive blockbusters.”
“That so?”
Yang lifted his lips into a firm smile.
“Proceed!”
“Understood.”
The chairman was in a fine mood.
What began as a favor had turned into a boon for the group.
Still, he scratched his head with a troubled look.
“Damn it. Now I’ve gotta watch that brat strut around even more?”
Even as he grumbled, the smile never left his face.
Less than two days after arriving back in Korea, I was dragged down again.
By who?
By the old man.
Not dragged up to heaven in death—dragged down in life.
“What, you summon me the moment I return?”
“If you’ve been abroad, it’s only proper to pay respects. Ahem.”
“Respects? I was working, not vacationing.”
“Ahem.”
“Do you have a cold?”
“Where’s my gift?”
They say the wealthy always want more.
This man, running a whole conglomerate, was demanding a present.
Of course…
“Tsk.”
I had something.
Honestly, how many people do I even know? And one of them is this geezer—
The same man who once gifted me an Enzo Ferrari as “retirement funds.”
“For a man with all that money. Here.”
I handed him something wrapped in soft cloth.
The old man accepted it warmly and chuckled.
“What’s this?”
“A sarira bead.”
“A sarira?”
“Yes. Live virtuously, achieve nirvana, and stop bothering me afterward.”
“You insolent brat!”
“Ow!” The old man kicked me.
[Squeal!]
“…”
[Even seeing it again, you’re so beautiful!]
Yeonju, who’d been gloomy, perked up once she remembered that “that beautiful woman” was actually me.
And honestly? Even I thought I looked good.
The ad hadn’t revealed we were the same person.
Instead, a behind-the-scenes fast-forward makeup video uploaded to YouTube became the viral “kill point.”
It spread like wildfire.
Since I hadn’t heard back from Oh Juhwan, I guessed he realized the woman he’d pined after was me.
It would scar both of us.
We probably wouldn’t see each other for a while.
Too embarrassing.
Crash!
“Hyung! Suhan-hyuuuung!”
Suddenly, Gamdung burst through my door, face flushed red.
“…You too? You’ve fallen for me?”
“Y–Yes!”
“W–What?!”
No way.
I care about you, but not like this.
“I love you!”
“Argh!”
The lunatic hugged me tight.
Yeonju nearly jumped out of her skin.
[Le–Let go! Let him gooo!]
Between Gamdung’s passionate embrace and Yeonju’s flailing protests, it was chaos.
“Baeksan is investing more! The budget’s up to 1.5 billion won!”
“Huh?”
“Yessss!”
Then Gamdung bolted back to his room like a madman.
…So that’s what it was about?
Thank God.
[Th–Thank God.]
“And what exactly are you relieved about?”
[I–I don’t knooow!]
“….”
Why is she barging into my room too?
These two, honestly…
Well, thanks to one successful ad, things kept snowballing.
Stock prices too.
“Guess that means I’ve got nothing to feel insecure about.”
Strangely, I felt at ease.
Maybe this is how it feels to hold the upper hand.
“You’ve arrived.”
So servile.
Looking at Mansoo, I was seriously curious about his past life.
He had to have been a sycophant—or a eunuch.
“Tsk. Lead the way.”
“Right this way, sir!”
…Annoying, but not unpleasant.
Now I see why rulers kept flatterers close.
Together we entered the chairman’s office.
The old man was already there.
“Hello, I’m Woo Suhan.”
“I’m Choi Woosan, chairman of the Cheongsan Foundation.”
I accepted the man’s card politely.
“Huh? Did you eat something wrong?”
“What?”
“Why are you so polite to him?”
“I’m always polite by nature.”
Chairman Yang bristled.
“Polite? Then why don’t I ever see it from you?”
“You get what you give. You never treated me kindly at first.”
“What was that?”
I smiled smugly as he sputtered.
“Chairman Choi, please, I’ll gladly listen if you’d explain.”
“Why, you little—!”
“Don’t act rashly.”
“Uh… grr…”
Wow. Rare sight.
At least this old man had the sense not to rage in front of a sad-eyed friend.
“My grandson played piano well. Since childhood, people called him a prodigy.”
I listened quietly.
The grandson, once deemed a genius, had weak health.
While preparing for the Chopin Competition, he collapsed and never woke again.
That was last year.
But not long after, strange ghostly happenings began.
After much deliberation, they planned a requiem ritual, but then heard about me through his old friend Yang.
“I’ll confirm first.”
“Thank you.”
We didn’t waste time.
Together with the two elders, we headed toward the piano room where the events occurred.
They say spirits are stronger at night, but from my experience, they’re present regardless of time.
Since it was the weekend, the school halls were quiet as we reached the infamous piano room.
Creak.
As we stepped inside, my gaze naturally fixed on the piano.
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
We exchanged whispers.
I could see a high schooler staring at the piano.
Wearing a uniform, and identical to the photo Mansoo had shown me.
“What are you doing there?”
Startled, the boy glanced at me and spoke.
[Me?]
“Who else?”
He looked flustered, then turned his gaze past me.
Behind me, Chairman Choi must’ve been watching nervously.
[You can see me?]
“Yeah. And you know I can, right? Everyone like you feels it.”
[…I think so.]
I approached slowly.
To meet so easily—this might go well.
But suddenly, he flinched and stepped back.
“Huh?”
Strange.
Normally, spirits were drawn to me.
To this body they could possess.
But instead, he retreated, face paling like he’d seen something horrifying.
“Wait. Stand still. Do I look strange to you?”
“What are you doing?”
A voice cut in, and I turned.
“Stand back.”
“Father, who are these people?”
…The mood turned sour.
If he called Chairman Choi “Father,” then—
I looked back toward the piano.
“…Damn.”
The boy was gone.
It felt like losing a fish I’d almost reeled in.
Just then, a man entered, bowed ninety degrees to the old man.
“Greetings.”
“Good.”
“But what’s going on here…? Did you call a shaman again?”
Choi’s son eyed Mansoo with a frown.
Hmm… best to step back.
Didn’t want to be lumped in with Mansoo.
“Hello.”
“Are you with them?”
“No. Wait—he’s a shaman?”
I glanced at Mansoo’s frozen expression.
Shh. Don’t out me.
Then the man turned to me, recognizing my face.
“Could you be…?”
“I’m Woo Suhan. Actually, I’m filming an indie movie and came scouting locations—”
“Ah, you must be the one my father invested in?”
“These two gentlemen both invested.”
“Ah, I see!”
Hook, line, sinker.
His face brightened instantly.
I carried on smoothly.
“So I thought I’d pay respects. And since we’ve received investment, I thought this school could be a good filming site. But what’s a shaman doing here? Some kind of trouble?”
He shook his head and handed me a business card.
“No, nothing like that. I’m Choi Wonwook, CFO of the Cheongsan Foundation, and son of the chairman here.”
“Ah, I see.”
I accepted the card and shook his hand.
“It’s an honor to meet such a rising star.”
“Not at all. I’m the one grateful for your warm welcome.”
That was enough for today.
This would take time.
Clearly, he disliked shamans.
I’d just have to come back under the pretext of filming.
The movie needed school scenes anyway.
