Miller wanted to teach Seojin as much as possible.
Not just English or survival skills on a deserted island.
It ranged from basic humanities, world history, writing, and even philosophy.
He even covered topics that would help Seojin with music, such as music history, harmony, counterpoint, composition, musical forms, and basic German.
Miller poured out all the knowledge he had, and Seojin absorbed it at a terrifying speed.
Given their location, there was nothing to distract them. After all, it’s not like there were phones or TVs on the deserted island.
They no longer needed much time for their increasingly routine hunting activities, making it the perfect setting for deep focus.
Miller couldn’t help but be amazed as he watched Seojin change day by day.
Even now, it was the same.
After hearing the question Miller posed, Seojin quickly jotted down the answer. With a branch, he swiftly drew staff lines in the sand and started writing musical notes.
About a minute later, Seojin turned his head confidently.
“How is it?”
He was beaming with pride.
He didn’t seem to have the slightest doubt that his answer was wrong.
Mark Miller chuckled and replied.
“Yeah. All correct. You’ve really gotten good at this.”
“This is simple. But isn’t it time to make the questions harder? This is too easy.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
What Mark Miller and Seojin were doing at that moment was ear training.
Listening to a sound and identifying what kind of sound it was.
This was a lesson Mark Miller practiced every day without fail after he found an acoustic guitar by the sea.
Needless to say, sound was the foundation of music.
Accurately understanding the sound you hear is also considered fundamental.
In short, ear training is an essential practice to develop a precise sense of pitch.
Of course, if someone has perfect pitch, this kind of study may not be necessary.
If you hear a ‘C’ and write down ‘C,’ what more is there to study?
However...
For those who don’t have that talent, daily practice is necessary to improve, even if the progress is imperceptible.
For reference, Seojin didn’t seem to have an extraordinary natural sense of pitch.
At best, one would say it was average.
But Seojin was the type to put in endless effort.
One day, he saw Seojin strumming the same note on the guitar all day. When he asked what he was doing, he said it was ear training. And yet, he said he found it incredibly fun. Just being able to hear the sound was enough to make him happy.
Perhaps because of that...
Seojin’s ear training had significantly improved compared to when he first started.
He could now accurately identify every single note played on the guitar, no matter how many there were in a melody.
He didn’t struggle with polyphonic music either, where multiple notes were played simultaneously.
‘Even just now, it was a 12-bar problem with 4 or 5 overlapping notes…’
He got them all right.
Was this really possible?
‘Could this be acquired perfect pitch…?’
It was something hard to believe, even after seeing it with his own eyes.
‘Maybe this is why people take on disciples.’
Just being able to witness Seojin’s growth made life on the deserted island fairly enjoyable.
Miller, who had been helping Seojin practice his hearing technique on the beach for quite some time, eventually returned to their makeshift home.
The home wasn’t far from the beach—about a two-minute walk. He had set up the house in a spot where he could immediately run out if a rescue team arrived.
It was a house built with a sturdy frame, made by weaving thin wooden planks around wooden pillars.
There was even a furnace made of mud, and a hole had been punched through to serve as a chimney.
Living there was manageable, for the most part.
However...
Their time on this deserted island was stretching far too long.
Counting from the plane crash, it had already been a year.
Even Seojin, who had looked like a little kid, had grown a good 10 centimeters.
And yet, no one had come to the island.
As Seojin had mentioned last time, they might really have been forgotten by people.
If that was the case...
They might have to come up with another plan.
‘Should I actually try building a real boat?’
But then, how would he gather the materials?
Tying wood together with some vines wouldn’t be enough to escape.
Mark Miller had learned that firsthand. There were areas near the island where strange currents flowed, and a raft wouldn’t stand a chance—it would easily be torn apart.
Additionally, if they set out to sea, they could end up drifting for quite some time. That would mean they’d need to carry enough food and water, which in turn would require a much larger boat.
Here, we also had to carefully consider Seojin’s physical abilities.
No matter how tall he was, he was still just a kid, around 5 feet tall (about 150 cm). Could that child really withstand it?
‘It’s still… too early to tell, I guess…’
Building a raft to escape was like a last resort.
For reference, we didn’t even know exactly where we were. Without a compass, setting off blindly would likely lead to death.
In short, it was a gamble with their lives at stake.
‘That’s why we had been waiting quietly for the rescue team until now.’
Mark Miller’s worries deepened. It wasn’t an easy decision to make.
Then he noticed a long wooden plank lying in the corner of the house.
It had a well-drawn shape on it, as if done with a ballpoint pen.
Miller let out a small chuckle.
‘A piano, even here?’
Of course, it wasn’t a playable piano. It was just a thin piece of wood with a keyboard drawn on it.
Still, whenever Seojin had some free time, he would practice playing it. His passion was truly remarkable.
Suddenly, some questions that he hadn’t asked Seojin came to mind.
Even after spending such a long time together, there were things he had let pass.
Why had Seojin boarded the plane?
Had he been with his parents?
How did he escape the plane?
He hadn’t even thought to ask those basic questions.
Why was that? Why on earth?
It was such a fundamental thing.
There.
‘Also, about me...’
Was it because he had been using his brain too much recently, teaching Seojin?
There were times when his memory would get fuzzy like this. Should he say it felt like he was in a fog? When thinking about a certain thing, there were times when he especially felt this way.
Mark Miller shook his head vigorously.
Worrying about insignificant things wouldn’t lead to any solutions, anyway.
For now, just focus.
Focus more on this moment.
Mark Miller unconsciously wrapped his hand around his lower ribs.
He made that resolution.
***
Several days later.
While sitting on a hill on the deserted island, deeply focused on fishing, Miller casually broached a topic, and Seojin immediately responded with a question.
“My story?”
“I just wanted to hear it again. But if you don’t feel like talking, we can skip it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but...”
After fidgeting with his legs for a bit, Seojin slowly began to speak.
“The first time I touched a piano was probably...”
Seojin’s story began from when he first received a toy piano as a gift during his childhood.
Even though it was just a toy, he was strangely drawn to it, and after continuously playing it, his parents eventually bought him an electric piano.
It was around that time that he started attending the local piano academy.
And it seemed that he had met a few older boys there who were genuinely learning to play the piano.
He said they looked really cool, especially when they competed in local competitions and even won awards.
“That’s when I started practicing the piano hard. Honestly, those guys were on a different level than me. Naturally, the sound they produced when playing was completely different from mine. To be honest, it totally captivated me.”
“And that continued until you were 12?”
“Yes. My skills did improve, and I occasionally participated in competitions. But I never placed high. The best I could do was an encouragement award, which is like a participation prize. But that sparked something in me. I thought, ‘I love the piano more than they do. So why only me?’ You know, thoughts like that.”
“Sounds like you developed a competitive spirit.”
“Looking back, I think I did. That must be why I practiced even harder. Practice, practice, and more practice. But the funny thing is, the more I practiced, the worse my results got. I made more mistakes.”
Mark Miller seemed to understand what was happening.
Obsession. Impatience. Stress.
Those might be necessary to some extent for professional pianists.
But those were not things a child aspiring to be a pianist needed.
At that young age, just taking time and practicing steadily would naturally resolve issues.
A child naturally grows. In this case, “growth” referred to physical growth.
Keys that once seemed unreachable became easy to press after just a year.
Power increases, and emotions deepen.
As they grow taller, pedaling becomes easier too.
So, was there really any need to rush?
“I know. But in Korea, you don’t really have a choice. If you want to keep playing piano, it’s advantageous to go to an arts middle school. And for that, having competition results helps a lot. It’s the same afterward. You have to keep going like that to get into an arts high school or a music college. Eventually, if you keep following that path, you’ll finally be able to make a living through the piano, right?”
“That’s really practical.”
“People always have to live in reality.”
Seojin chuckled while speaking.
Maybe because he had been spending so much time with Miller, even his way of speaking seemed to resemble his more and more.
“Honestly, aside from all that, I felt like I was just a little bit away from making it. Do you know that feeling, sir?”
“What feeling?”
“The feeling that if I practice just a little more, I’ll be able to play it perfectly. I’m talking about pieces written by Mozart or Beethoven. The feeling that I could play like them!”
“......”
“My heart would race at times like that. That’s why I couldn’t stop.”
Seojin added a story about when he participated in a regional competition.
The same friends he always saw. The friends who always won awards. In contrast, he himself always remained at the bottom.
But he kept challenging himself until, finally, he was able to achieve some kind of result.
“That was this flight. It was only once, but I had the opportunity to receive direct instruction from a famous pianist. I was invited to a masterclass held in Singapore. Well... I guess I can’t use it now since the time has passed.”
“By the way, the flight—did you take it with your parents?”
“No, I took it with the people who organized the masterclass. I wonder if they survived... I’m worried.”
“I see...”
Mark Miller suddenly pressed his head, overwhelmed by a headache. Why was this happening again? His vision was becoming blurry.
‘I don’t know for sure, but…’
It seemed that whenever the topic of the plane crash came up, these symptoms would appear. Even the pain in his ribs, which he thought had gotten better, was starting to flare up again.
Despite all of this, Miller felt like there was one more question he had to ask. It seemed like asking this would resolve all the lingering doubts.
Miller managed to steady his breathing and asked the question.
“Then, back then. Why were you humming when the plane was crashing?”
“What?”
“You were humming. Don’t you remember?”
“......”
Seojin couldn’t answer Miller’s question for a long time.
And finally,
The answer that came from him was a bit unexpected.
“Well… I’ve never hummed on the plane.”
