Chapter 1140: The Warmest Season, Winter (12)

New York's famous movie theater.

Inside the theater, which was guarded by security personnel like a fortress, the atmosphere was bustling with people.

「Bob! It's been a while.」

「Jones, you bastard. You're still alive and kicking. You look healthier than ever.」

「It's been a long time, everyone.」

They were veteran musicians.

Jazz musicians who had appeared in the film either directly or indirectly, as well as people who had run record labels during that era.

Those who had now retired and were enjoying quiet lives smiled at each other with deeply wrinkled faces.

「Buddy! My friend! Come over here.」

Including trumpet player Buddy Russell, who had recently performed with Wooju at the VMAs, faces that anyone in jazz would recognize were gathering in one place.

The fans of Sun Myung Joo sitting in the audience stared with their mouths hanging open.

‘This is insane. That's Buddy Russell.’

‘Bob Seger…? My God.’

‘Did they just gather the jazz industry's Hall of Fame?’

People who had written pages of jazz history over the past half-century.

And among them, one of the greatest legends appeared.

「Winston! Over here.」

Winston Ross.

The saxophonist and jazz master entered while drawing everyone's attention.

His eyebrows furrowed.

「Damn it. You bastards are still alive.」

「I thought age might have softened your tongue a little, but I see I was mistaken. You're still as harsh as ever.」

The musicians embraced each other while saying such things.

The venue was filled with loud laughter, as if they were chatting in a jazz club while smoking cigars.

Someone said,

「By the way, have all of you met him? His son, I mean.」

「I have.」

「Not yet. I was only invited.」

For those who did not have much interest in pop music, the fact that Sun Wooju was a member of NewBlack was irrelevant.

What they were curious about was who Wooju was as "Sun Myung Joo's son."

The Sun Myung Joo they remembered was….

—Hello. I am Sun Myung Joo.

A remarkably polite young man.

But when it came to music, he was someone overflowing with more pride than anyone else.

—Your view of music and mine are different. We need to change. The old must remain in the past. If we continue like this, our music will become something only a select few listen to. Perhaps it will become nothing more than a relic left behind in a museum.

……He had been quite arrogant.

Because of that, he often clashed with other musicians of the time, and some relationships broke apart because of their differences in values.

But everyone acknowledged his talent.

Even if they denied it with their words, the fact that everyone loved his music was an open secret.

"I still have one regret."

An elderly man spoke.

"Back then, that kid was so arrogant that I couldn't admit it. I couldn't admit that he was better than me. That the music he created was so incredibly beautiful."

"Me too……."

"Same here."

The first man continued.

"But when I tried to take back all the ridiculous criticisms I had made…… it was already too late."

"It was truly terrible."

Everyone shook their heads as if they did not even want to think about it.

The incident in 1999.

They believed that when Sun Myung Joo and his band passed away, the spark that could have allowed jazz to burn brightly had been extinguished.

Looking at the theater floor as if seeing fallen leaves, someone said,

"That regret has stayed with me all this time. If I could meet him even once more… I would admit that what I said back then was wrong. I would tell him that his music was more like jazz than anyone else's, and that it was truly beautiful."

Many people here felt the same.

The regrets of old men.

Now that they had lived more years than they had left to live, those thoughts occasionally returned to them.

As the atmosphere grew heavier, someone changed the subject.

"Come on. Let's not become so gloomy. It's a good day. A movie about that friend is finally being released."

"That's right."

"Speaking of which, why were we talking about this again?"

As the veteran musicians tilted their heads, one of the younger musicians among them answered.

"We were talking about Sun's son."

"Ah. That's right!"

They turned toward Buddy Russell.

"How was he? I heard you played trumpet together at that V… stage those young people watch."

"I only went because of the money, so I didn't really get to interact with him much… but he was handsome."

At such a shallow impression, they turned their gazes elsewhere.

"Winston. You probably know him best. Didn't you watch that kid the longest?"

"Well.

★ ★

More than me, some youngster like Paul spent more time with him……."

Winston Ross looked into the air.

"At first, I thought he wasn't much like his father. He actually resembled his mother more. Unlike that sharp, polite kid who always felt like a blade, he had a gentle nature. Even his smiling eyes were different. But……"

"But?"

"The more I watched him, the more a certain saying came to mind. That there cannot be two suns beneath the same sky."

"……?"

"Every time I look at Wooju, I think about it. Perhaps, just as the sky does not allow two suns to exist, maybe the world took him away too soon."

He meant that the more he looked at him, the more he resembled his father.

The musicians stroked their chins.

‘Hmm.’

‘I'm not sure.’

They knew he possessed tremendous popularity, but it was difficult for them to understand what made him special.

After all, they did not know much about Wooju.

They only knew that Myung Joo's son was a K-pop star and had become an incredibly popular pop star in America as well.

After thinking about it, they nodded.

‘Well. We'll meet him soon enough.’

As they began taking their seats one by one.

A noisy commotion came from outside, and the director and cast members began entering the theater.

"WhoaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Sun Myung Joo's fans and the audience erupted into cheers.

While everyone welcomed them with applause, Wooju, who was walking at the front, greeted them and approached.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sun Wooju."

The musicians shook hands with him.

The veteran musicians who were seeing Wooju for the first time wore strange expressions.

‘I'm not sure.’

He was certainly beautiful.

A face that inherited only the best qualities from both his father and mother.

But they did not feel the same overwhelming charisma they had felt when they first met Sun Myung Joo.

"Thank you all for coming. I really wanted you to be here."

"We had to come. I need to get my granddaughter's autograph."

Everyone laughed warmly at someone's joke.

While the other actors greeted the audience, one of the musicians welcoming Sun Myung Joo's acquaintances asked,

"I heard you have a talent for music. Did you create a musical based on Myung Joo's music?"

"Yes."

"Hmm……."

They had heard about it beforehand.

They had heard that jazz had been changed into a more pop-oriented style to fit the musical genre, and the musicians had complicated expressions.

‘I wonder how it will turn out.’

As they thought that, Sun Myung Joo's son smiled and said,

"It might feel unfamiliar at first. But……"

"?"

"You will come to love the music in this film."

A humble yet bold smile.

The way he answered with complete confidence, as if saying they would have no choice but to love the music he had transformed, made the jazz musicians burst into hearty laughter.

It was a smile that anyone could see was exactly like his father's.

Ten people, ten different colors.

Just as the saying meant that ten people would have ten different thoughts, even the same movie could leave a different impression on every individual.

The same was true for movie preferences by country.

The reactions of American audiences toward were distinctly different from those of Korean audiences.

‘Hmmmmm.’

‘So this is what Korea was like back then. Hmm.’

When Koreans watched Sun Myung Joo's childhood and felt nostalgia or longing.

Americans simply watched the Korean scenes with calm eyes.

It felt like watching a scene from a Bollywood film or a Spanish movie.

They were focused, but they did not have a deep personal connection.

Only Sun Myung Joo's fans showed interest in Gurye County, saying things like, ‘So this is Sun's hometown……’

But the moment the setting changed to America.

Sparkle.

American eyes began to shine.

As the main setting shifted to New York after Sun Myung Joo's growth, the audience began to truly immerse themselves.

From that point onward, the lyrics of the musical numbers also changed into English.

[NEW YORK CITY]

Scenes that anyone could not help but feel nostalgic toward began to unfold.

The Twin Towers glowing beneath the orange sunlight.

The Empire State Building.

The unique colors, fashion, and trends of the 1990s had been recreated perfectly.

‘Those really were good times……’

One could say any era was special, but for Americans, the 1990s were an especially meaningful period.

An era of peace.

Economic prosperity.

Scenes that represented America's golden age appeared one after another, and eyes naturally began to grow moist.

And that was not all.

—This film is about jazz.

Just as the lead actor had said in interviews.

The film was truly a tribute to jazz.

Not only through the musical numbers, but also through the carefully placed music throughout the film.

For example, the scene early on where Winston Ross explained the history of jazz to Sun Myung Joo.

[Looks like class isn't interesting to you.]

[No, it isn't like that.]

[You're a terrible liar. Since you're bored, I'll tell you a few interesting stories about jazz.]

The old man lit his pipe with a match and played jazz swing on the piano as he told his stories.

[It was a long time ago. It happened in New Orleans, where I lived.]

As he spoke, the colors on the screen changed.

A unique animated style.

A sequence explaining the origins and evolution of jazz from the days before Black Americans were emancipated.

Stories of legendary jazz musicians unfolded, and the child's eyes sparkled.

American audiences felt the same.

[Would you like to hear the story of the musician who couldn't even tie his shoelaces without his wife? Do you want to know what happened when his wife became ill right before his most important performance?]

[Yes.]

[First, let's play page three. I'll tell you after that.]

[Tch.]

The audience also became curious.

‘What story is that?’

And as Winston Ross smiled while recalling memories of the past.

Just like Korean audiences, they began clenching their fists as Sun Myung Joo's story continued.

The scenes of racial discrimination.

‘Th... this…….’

‘Wow. That…….’

They knew he had experienced discrimination.

But they had not known the specific forms it took.

Fans clenched their fists, and ordinary audience members watched with shocked expressions.

Only those who had actually lived through that era nodded quietly.

‘There really were people like that.’

‘I heard bits and pieces about this.’

It was not dramatization.

It was 100% accurate.

The words and actions of those portrayed as villains at the time.

The musicians watched the film with bitter smiles.

‘Back then…… he must have suffered so much. We should have supported him.’

Some musicians who had told him things like "what you make isn't jazz" watched with regretful expressions.

Fortunately, as if to show them what became of him, the film portrayed Sun Myung Joo's rise.

A person who had been the very definition of an underdog slowly moving toward success.

"……"

"……"

As more scenes passed, the musicians' expressions became complicated.

Because of the musical numbers that kept appearing.

At first……

‘It was definitely not good.’

They could not understand why anyone would change Sun Myung Joo's magnificent music into such childish, flashy pop.

The original songs had already been perfect.

But as more musical numbers appeared one after another, they slowly began to feel themselves being drawn in.

‘……I don't understand.’

They were confused.

What kind of music was this?

Could it truly be called not jazz?

The answer was no.

Of course, jazz had elements that clearly defined it as jazz.

But the songs they were hearing now crossed the boundary between jazz and everything else.

That was why it felt dizzying.

‘Truly… I don't understand.’

If this had been their younger selves, they would have immediately declared that this was not jazz.

But the music they were hearing now undeniably carried the essence of jazz.

‘Perhaps it is because of the original composition.’

It was then that the musicians thought this.

[You weren't nominated again this year.]

[Is that so.]

The news that despite achieving great success, he had not received a single nomination at music award ceremonies.

The music industry within the film seemed to be saying the same thing.

Your music is not jazz.

At those words, several musicians fell silent.

‘Would I have been any different?’

A musician who was loved by the public but rejected by experts because his music was experimental and unconventional.

And the resistance toward an outsider from a foreign land making jazz his own.

Of course, among those gathered here, there were differences of opinion.

But not a single one of them had mistreated or discriminated against Sun Myung Joo.

Still.

If they had been judges back then, would they truly have given Sun Myung Joo an award?

That was the question.

Then it happened.

Sun Myung Joo, sitting before the piano, began playing with a confident smile instead of an expression of despair.

We are like stars in the galaxy,

separate, but connected with gravity.

Sun Myung Joo smiled and looked toward the camera.

And I am the Sun.

In the calm silence, the man's voice echoed.

When I opened my eyes,

all I saw was darkness.

Floating in empty space,

I was nothing more than a tiny speck of dust.

A tiny speck of dust.

But just as each speck of dust began gathering together one by one, people began standing beside him.

The people who had supported him.

Among them were some who were sitting here today.

The harmonies slowly began to build.

If this is a world where we must wait for light,

then I do not want a world like that.

The actor playing the piano raised the pitch with strength.

Now it is my turn to shine.

So watch quietly.

With bright orange lighting, the chorus rang out.

I am like the sun—

Look.

At your newly reborn sun.

While Sun Myung Joo's fans covered their lips and watched with tears in their eyes, and ordinary audience members watched with wet eyes.

The musicians focused on the music reaching their ears.

‘This……’

It was not a song composed by Sun Myung Joo.

It was his son's theme song for his father.

Yet it was a song that could be called closer to jazz than anything else they had heard that day.

Even those who had been uncertain about the other arrangements could not deny this song was jazz.

No matter how many walls are built,

the brilliant light cannot be stopped.

The walls closing in around them within the film.

Everyone trembled before the dark and terrifying barriers, but as Sun Myung Joo continued singing brilliantly, sunlight began to shine.

And then the true identity of those barriers was revealed.

They were people.

People who had cruelly spoken to Sun Myung Joo and the musicians who had been isolated at the time.

As they approached with their hands joined together, pressing in from every direction, the audience felt the same suffocating pressure.

Gulp.

The former lover who criticized his appearance.

The father who condemned his son for pursuing the dream of becoming a musician rather than a banker.

And countless others.

As Sun Myung Joo's crew trembled in fear, the man's voice continued as if telling them not to worry.

Everyone closed their eyes tightly and sang together.

We are like the sun—

Look.

At your sun that still shines.

A sun shining brilliantly with everyone together.

As the light grew brighter, the protagonists discovered the true identity of what had been binding them.

It was not their father who hurt them.

Not their lovers.

Not their friends.

It was themselves.

They realized that the figures approaching them, with faces identical to their own like mirrors, were their own reflections.

In the end, what had tormented them had been their own hearts.

We are like the sun—

Look.

At your sun that still shines.

During the harmony that decorated the climax, the characters embraced themselves.

As they slowly disappeared, accepting themselves completely, Sun Myung Joo continued with a cheerful improvisation.

‘This……’

The musicians' eyes widened.

Because they realized whose hands had created that improvisation recording.

‘It was Sun's son's work.’

The musicians, who had been looking at Wooju from afar, stared at the darkened screen.

They could not actually see their faces reflected there.

But they felt as if their own faces were appearing on the screen.

—You will come to love the music in this film.

They unfolded their crossed arms and began truly appreciating the music.

Just as his son had declared.

The music of the film was genuinely wonderful.

And….

Some of those who had rejected it by saying it was not jazz stared at the screen with thoughtful expressions.

Could one of the walls that had imprisoned the musician Sun Myung Joo back then have been themselves?

They said they recognized it as jazz now.

But would they have recognized it back then?

The short but extraordinary life of one of the greatest musicians continued unfolding.

Until the ending, where it reached his son and the legacy he had left behind.

"WHOOOOAAAAAAAH!"

"WHOOOOAAAAAA!"

Amid thunderous cheers, Sun Myung Joo's fans stood up in tears, and the audience erupted.

As Wooju stood and smiled gently in greeting, one of the veteran musicians slowly approached him.

"I……"

The words he had wanted to say decades ago.

The words he needed to say to Sun Myung Joo back then, and to Sun Wooju standing before him now.

Representing the other musicians, the old man spoke to the young musician.

"I love your music."

The old man had wanted to explain that "you" did not simply mean him.

It meant both father and son.

But he stopped.

Because the person in front of him had already understood.

"Thank you."

Sun Myung Joo's son smiled brightly.

"I've been waiting to hear that."