The Concert Hall- Auditorium

Choi Seung Pyo sat in the same spot he always sat in during practice, the third row isle seat. Behind him just to the left, sat Chief Secretary Woo, and his master conductor watched also the performance of each auditioners to put in input, but ultimately it was Seung Pyo's decision.

His expression as the 7th auditioner was of boredom. He showed it plainly on his face and in his demeanor. Instead of watching the girl intently, as Secretary Woo asked simple questions, like "What is your name?" "The instrument you will be playing?" and "To begin," Seung Pyo stared intently at the girls application looking it over. He already made the decision before the girl even started playing after he looked over the first page. It was a no, and nothing the girl would do would change that.

Seung Pyo just set her application aside and waited for the next person to show. the next person was a petite woman, wearing a over grown sweater and thick glasses. "Hi. My name is Zoe Lackabolt, and I will be playing the musical instrument known as the Triangle. Here..."

"Next," Seung Pyo said setting once more, the girls application on the discard pile. He was becoming increasingly weary of the lack of adequate musicians in all of Great Britain. There must have been one that meet up to his standards.

The girl was tearing up, fogging up her thick lens. Snot rolled down her noise, making her freakishly disgusting, but she did not run off. She kept begging and begging for a chance to performed but Seung Pyo looked passed her, as if she did not exist. Secretary Woo had to order Seung Pyo's body guards to take the sniveling waste of space away.

One after another, he was dissatisfied with the on coming performers. Some he dismissed out right, for multiple of reasons. For instance, their application lacking in completion, or qualifications to perform, another one just rambled on to Seung Pyo's annoyance with that horrible squeaking voice. He did not even care if she had the hands of Mozart, he did not want to be around by a girl who had the voice of a cat in a blender.

"Bring in Malo slips, please," Secretary Woo said to the attendant at the door, moving the pace right along, knowing that Seung Pyo was getting more and more restless by the minute.

At first Seung Pyo did not look up from where he sat, intrigued by the application. He was mildly impressed by what he read, and that maybe he found a good candidate of becoming musician in his orchestra. But as he pulled his eyes away from the application he was mildly disappointed, but asked anyways, "You're Milo Slip, Correct?" in his funny English voice that tripped over words, regularly. He wanted to say 'Next,' but seeing as he brought his cello, and his application he was curious to what this man had to offer. "Begin," Seung Pyo stated leaning back into his seat.

Seung Pyo sat with his notepad, and Milo slips application on his lap, but his pen just hovered over the sheets of paper. All his attention was focus to the Cello player. He wouldn't say it, or even admit it, he was blown away by the skills he had. Few people had the skills sets to play Cello well, and on top of that "Courante."

As Milo left he eased into his chair, a small smile on his lips, that told all. That he has found his next muscian, and that everyone else would not due, or live up to those high standards that Malo Slip, and his performance. Other than that, he allowed the search continued.

As Seung Pyo predicted, he was correct in that assumption, that no one could live up to the bar Malo set, and that bar was fairly low to Seung Pyo's own bar. The next few who came up right after Milo Slip were those weekend warrior musicians, that saw their names in shining lights one day. They fill their heads with silly dreams of glory, fame and riches, but Seung Pyo put an end to that. Without even lifting a finger, he berated them with reality, telling them that they may have some ounce of musical talent, which he highly doubt and he told them such, but also that any talent does not flourish over night, but worked on for years.

The thrill that once saturate his fingers to play his own musical instrument, slowly sipped out of his body with every audition. He became lethargic as one after another perform. Also, Seung Pyo was becoming increasingly impatient causing him to say "Next" to performers who had only gotten into thirty seconds of their melody.

The highlight of this wonderful audition was a few slots where filled up with not musicians but his fan girls who wanted to meet him in person. Most were from the east coast, where he was known for being the eligible bachelor, and the "Hot" new face that plays the violin. Even though he was irritated, and annoyed by the intrusion, he turn on the charm, telling them that he loved their outfits, which were not conservative in any sense of the word. He hinted to a few of them, as he stepped close to whisper in their ear that he might seem them a little bit later for some "fun." They were like jelly in Seung Pyo's hands, making them swoon over him, blush when he complimented them, tremble when his hand touch their chin. When they left, they usually were giggling in excitement.

President Choi could not retain himself, as he sighed for the fourth time during this long arduous process of finding an eligible musician but he was getting more frauds, and fakes than true musicians. Once again he said, “Next,” flicking his wrist once more signaling he was done listening to this imbecile. His head throbbed with onset of rising and falling pain. It did not help that his last musician, if you would call him such, was a cymbals player. He got four or five more licks of slamming them together, before he was escorted off stage.

The next audition walked in with a confident stride, and was, at least what President Choi considered, proper attire. She wore a plain black shirt, with a ruffled white blouse, with a stripped overcoat. She stood on stage, pose, case in hand. “Hello. My name is Katherine Ann Cel-” But she stopped in the middle of her speech as Mr. Choi’s phone went off in the auditorium.

“Keep going,” President Choi said pulling out his iphone, answering the call that came in. “Yaboseyo.” Choi saying hello into his phone, as he leaned back into his chair as he spoke in Korean. Katherine was stone speechless being ignored on one of the most important interview, but she tried to push past the interruption, and performed. She set her case down and pulled her bow and violin out and started playing. She was quite good but Seung Pyo was too busy talking into his phone to listen. The breaking point of Katherine was when he burst out laughing, unnerving the poor child to run out in tears. “I’ll see you at the bar latter. Bye.” He hung up the phone, to realize that the girl who was on stage disappeared. Turning toward his Secretary, Woo, and his Master conductor, he asked, “Was it something I said?”

After the mishap with Seung Pyo’s phone, he silenced it for the last handfuls of auditioners. His attention was now fully focus, intently on the stage as men rolled a harp in the center of stage. Intrigued by this notion that he had a harp player amongst this rift raft truly pleased him. It had been so long since he heard a good harpist. Kimeko Tanaka was her name. Kimeko...

“Tanaka!” he shouted, standing up from his seat, seeing the arrival of his old classmate. “What are you doing here,” reverting to the Japanese language. He was in a state of confusion, seeing on how they left on bad terms, and she was thousands of kilometers from Japan.

Kimeko just had a coy smile on her face, once again tossing her hair back off her shoulders. “Well, little Seung Pyo, I came to audition,” she said sweetly. From Choi’s perspective this girl had not changed at all. The look in her eyes betrayed her, and he had a sneaking suspicion now magic was involved in some of the absent guess, and even the rubbish talent. “You are glad to see me, my sweet Seung Pyo?” she asked, having that voice that could charm even a snake.

He turn around to face his companions that sat in the row behind him. “Everyone...give us five minutes,” he said in his rubbish English accent. Everyone from his attendants to his Secretary and Master Conductor complied as they all stepped outside. Turning back around, he stated frankly, “I thought I told you, I never wanted to see you again?” he said once more in Japanese.

“...But Seung Pyo, I miss you,” she said coming closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her firm body intermingled against his. It was that sensual touch that bend men’s wills, making them fall on bended knee. “Please, Choi? Let us perform together. For old time's sake?”

And what do you know, a few minutes later both are on stage, Kimeko on her stool, and him with his Violin, both ready to perform. Kimeko did not have to tell him what song to play, the first few notes told him all as she strum her harp. "River Flows In You," (Link) was the first song they ever played together. Seung Pyo was in the music room alone. His melody poured out into the hallway, drawing much attention. The only one who had the nerve to step inside the music room and interrupt him was Kimeko. She followed suit as they both worked in tandem creating magic of their own through song. Now both of them were lost in another world, something that was unexplainable but more spiritual, more intertwining than two people making romantic love.

As Seung Pyo strum the last note, dropping his bow and violin down to his sides, Kimeko got up, and moved closer to him, very close. Her hands had no boundaries as it made its way down the chest. “So my Seung Pyo, will you hire me?”

Seung Pyo grabbed her wrist firmly when she got to his belt buckle, holding them away from him. He lean in, whispering in her ear, “You know, Kimeko? You are a vintage car: sleek and sexy, but once put through the ringer, and gone a few miles in her, it is time to put her in the junkyard to find a new, better one.”

Kimeko pulled her hands away. Once they were free, she slapped him across the face. “Bastard,” she spat as she turned around and walked right out of the auditorium, slamming the door shut. Seung Pyo just smiled, rubbing his now redden face.

After what happen to Kimeko, President Choi took a more active roll in the audition processes. Instead of sitting in the stands letting them perform what they had surely practice for ages, until it was ingrain in their memories, he turn the tables on the last seven. At first he asked them questions about themselves, and how long they had been performing. Than the serious questions begin, for instance to tell the difference between musical notes and things of that nature. He did not fail everyone right off the bat. Most had trouble speaking, so he gave them on last chance. Whatever musical instrument they brought with them at the time, he came up with composure, and the song they must perform at the best of their ability. All of them failed. Some did not know of what composure or melody Seung Pyo was talking about, or they did not know the right composition and ruin the whole entire song.

"Next," he said watching a boy only sixteen walk off stage, stalk white as if he got hit in the gut.

Seung Pyo looked up from where his application laid on top of the sleek piano. He was told that this Aimee girl was the final contestant to impress the judges, Secretary Woo, the Master Conductor, Micheal Ellington, and himself, President Choi. But as he notice the presence of the girl, he was sorely disappointed at the sight of the girl, and how she was dressed. Thinking that Aimee was another fan girl, that flew to Europe to see him, he said pleasantly in Korean, "If you want a sign photo, Hun. You did not need to put your name down for the audition list." A half smile played on his lips, and he turn on the boyish charms, easily swooning any fan girl.

Secretary Woo stood up where he sat, about to asked the bodyguards to escort her off the premises, but President Choi waved him off. At first hearing the sharp tongue of...he had to look back on the application to read the girl's name again...Ms. Mitchelle, Seung Pyo was speechless, as if the whole world stalled for a second. It had been ages since someone talked to him as such, he was both intrigued but irritated at the same time.

"I guess we have someone as dim, as we do unoriginal. Ms. Mitchelle, terminally illness is what you will have than, if you get hired here. You do know that, right?" he held a civilized tongue. Under any other circumstances, he would have lashed out, and sent the girl out on her ass by his bodyguards, but he wanted to have his fun, make this experience so arduous so horrible for her, that she would not pick up an instrument again.

"Secondly, I am surprise Ms. Tanaka did not hex you," he said in Korean, resting his weight on the piano, leaning over it to take a closer look at Aimee Mitchelle. Choi talked way to openly about magic on stage in front of an audience. One thing his Master Conductor Ellington could not speak a foreign language, Secretary Woo knew about Magic from a long time ago, and his Body Guards and Attendance were not in the room at the moment, but standing outside waiting for him to send orders. That only left Aimee, who may or may not know about Magic. But Seung Pyo reasoned that if she knew of Kimeko and still had her memories intact the she too was a magician. "Vile thing, she is. Always had a short fuse. She was willing to hex anyone that got in her way."

"Now," reverting back to English. He stood up straight, fixing his suit to not get anymore creases in them. His hand followed the edge of the Piano as he walked closer to the girl, eyeing her up and down. "Is this... what you are wearing for your audition?" he stated, having trouble with English once more, but not tripping over his words. "You look ready to go to a whore house, with that leather, than an audition." He pointed at the hat, and gloves she wore. Micheal Elligton, the pompous that he is could not suppress his laughter, which made Seung Pyo grin all the more.

Choi was ill effective by the slights, she was delivering his way. She, like many of his ex girlfriends, had a scorn to settle, and used words to try to injure his pride but they were all for not. But Ms. Mitchelle was not his ex, nor someone she knew very well, only through magazines, blogs, and news features. The only obvious conclusion was she had a deep seeded resentment, and a growing jealousy because of his fame, and fortune. "Envy does not suit your pretty face at all, Mitchelle-yang."

The exchange of words got interesting by the minute. Not only did she have quick wit with the insults, but Aimee was skilled in the trivial thing called magic. Very few of Mahoutokoro students in the same year as Kimeko could disarm her, and Aimee did it without a scratch, but it still was left open what really happen. Ms. Mitchelle could have just gotten very lucky to not have her memories modified. "You and she could be sisters," he said suggesting that Aimee and Kimeko was a lot a like. President Choi left it up to her as a compliment or an insult, he was not going to further explain himself on a person that should stay dead and buried in his past.

"Do-ryeon-nim." Secretary Woo stepped in, now on stage. He stood in between Ms. Mitchelle, and President Choi. Usually, Secretary Woo never interfered with Choi's antics but there verbal lashes were a hindrance, and looked poorly on Han Min-Ju's good name. "We have a Charity Ball in the hour. please make this quick." Before he went back to his seat, he turn to Ms. Mitchelle, and bowed slightly.

Now that the insults were flying came to a halt, Choi walked around Aimee, and took a seat at the piano before him. It was well kept, and still in prime condition. The gloss black shined even under this light, the keys were smooth as glass under his fingers, and as he pressed down one key it wrung out as a beacon, calling Choi to play another note. "Please, Seat."

Seung Pyo had glided his hand over the fine gloss finish of his grand piano. He had it shipped all the way from the Choi estate in Seoul, to london. It was hand crafted by the best piano makers money could buy, and it was given to him by his late Mother on his fifth birthday. It was one of the reasons why he picked up playing the piano in the first place, and even sitting here now brought a warm gentle smile to his face.

"Begin," was all President Choi said, releasing his the controls to see what Ms. Mitchelle had to offer HoengJae Concert Hall.

Seung Pyo was not looking at Aimee's fingers gliding over the keys, but Aimee herself. At first Aimee looked stiff as if trying to remember each and every key, hit all the right notes to perform well for the judges. It all looked mechanical and artificial. But as the music started to speed up, and the anxiety of failure started to wain, her passion for music started to blossom. She unlocked the door to her own little world, were her thoughts, her feelings everything bottled up inside came out in the midst of her song, bring Seung Pyo along with it.

When the song ended, and Aimee looked at him waiting for an answer, he gave nothing. Seung Pyo sat staring at her. She was an excellent performer, he would give her that, but was she an excellent pianist? That was the question he needed to find out, that he needed to know.

"Keep up," he said kindly.

Angelic Land

He placed one hand on the piano, letting Aimee take the other before starting to play. Once again the music rang out, filling the Auditorium with a soft slow melody. Unlike Aimee, who had to find her way to that relaxing place, Seung Pyo was instantly transported lost in the melody as if everything around him cease to matter.