For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

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The concertmaster gave a slight nod, and the principal oboist blew a long ‘A’ note. As the musicians busily tuned their instruments to the oboe’s pitch, the concertmaster adjusted the intonation with sharp, discerning eyes.

The concertmaster, mindful of the conductor’s preferences, subtly gestured for the musicians to tune slightly above the standard pitch. Dozens of instruments emitted discordant sounds, but within moments, they harmonized into a unified tone.

Walking over to the first violins, the concertmaster issued instructions to the string section. He oversaw all technical aspects of their performance, from deciding when to use down-bows or up-bows to managing every detail of string technique. He preferred communicating through gestures rather than words, so the string players were constantly focused on interpreting his subtle cues during their performance.

Dmitri, the Russian-born concertmaster, was as cold and exacting as his reputation suggested. In fact, he was known as “the cold-blooded one” in the London Symphony Orchestra. However, even this feared figure showed respect to one individual in the orchestra.

Thud.

As a gray-haired man entered, all the orchestra members stood up at once. These were musicians of great pride and skill—after all, they had earned their place in the London Symphony Orchestra. Yet now they looked like nervous children awaiting discipline. Dmitri stepped forward and respectfully shook hands with the conductor.

Though it was only a rehearsal with no audience in sight, an indescribable tension and silence filled the hall.

The moment the conductor’s gaze swept over them, the musicians sat down in unison.

At that moment, after surveying them with his left hand,

the conductor swiftly slashed through the air with his baton.

Bam!

In response to the thin baton’s movement, dozens of instruments erupted into sound. The musicians followed every flick of the baton that dictated tempo, rhythm, and direction of melody. The powerful gestures summoned a thunderous series of melodies.

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, First Movement.

The musicians’ tempo could never be perfectly uniform. Especially in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, where three eighth notes must follow exactly after a short eighth rest—it was even more challenging. The musicians had to focus intensely on every flick of the conductor’s baton as if standing in the middle of a battlefield.

Crack.

At that moment, the conductor’s left hand sliced through the air and clenched into a fist.

“Horn!”

The assistant principal horn player straightened up at once under the conductor’s gaze. As always, no direct criticism was given. Only a cold stare pierced through him.

Again.

As soon as the conductor raised his hand,

the sharp melody of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony filled the hall again.

*

“Dmitri. If you know any suitable candidates for assistant principal horn players, bring them in.”

Spencer, the principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, wore an unmistakably displeased expression. It wasn’t often that all members of an orchestra could gather for rehearsal. But today, unfortunately, it was marred by repeated mistakes from one horn player. What angered Spencer more than wrong notes was that he couldn’t produce clean tones—likely due to overdrinking last night.

Dmitri—known among his peers as “the cold-blooded one”—nodded silently. Though he himself was a world-renowned violinist, he held deep respect for Spencer above all others. There wasn’t a single violinist who hadn’t looked up to Spencer when he was hailed as an unparalleled genius in his prime.

Spencer had been serving as principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra for decades now. His reputation as a conductor was as illustrious as when he had been a violinist; not only had he been knighted by British royalty but also London Symphony continually sought to renew his lifetime contract.

The orchestra members were well aware of Spencer’s perfectionist tendencies. Though they too had immense musical pride, they always deferred to Spencer’s authority. In fact, when Spencer remained silent after mistakes were made during rehearsal, it made them even more anxious—because perfect music simply doesn’t exist in this world.

“Maestro.”

At that moment, Dmitri carefully handed Spencer a phone receiver. Spencer took it with some curiosity.

“My old friend Spencer. How have you been?”

A familiar voice came through—the face easily imagined even without seeing it.

“What are you doing calling me at this late hour?”

“Haha! It’s been so long since we last spoke—why so sharp? Anyway, I’m calling from Korea.”

“Korea?”

Spencer paused for a moment before recalling where Korea was. He could never forget it—his older brother had served there as part of the navy during the Korean War.

“Why would His Royal Highness be there instead of attending to state affairs?”

“Don’t call me ‘His Royal Highness’—it’s embarrassing! Guess who I met in Korea? You’ll be shocked.”

Who could Samuel possibly know in Korea? But then Samuel’s next words made Spencer furrow his brow involuntarily.

“A prodigy?”

“Yes! A prodigy! I’ve never seen anyone play violin like that kid—it reminded me of your prime!”

“You’re getting senile with age! Stop talking nonsense—I’m still sharp as ever.”

It was rare for anyone to speak so bluntly to royalty like this—but Spencer didn’t care about such formalities with Samuel. Dmitri had already stepped aside discreetly by then.

“I don’t believe in prodigies anymore. All prodigies died after Mozart.”

Spencer firmly believed that talent alone wasn’t enough—without hard work, ability couldn’t be fully realized. Though he himself had been hailed as a prodigy once upon a time, it was only through grueling effort that he achieved greatness. Those who called him a prodigy were essentially insulting him.

“I need to get back inside—I’m hanging up now.”

Samuel’s voice continued over the line briefly before Spencer abruptly ended the call on his own terms. There wasn’t enough time in this fleeting life—not even enough time for all-night rehearsals—so Spencer felt even more urgency than usual tonight. After all, he always pursued perfection.

“Prodigies—what nonsense.”

Looking at the phone he had just put down, Spencer grabbed his baton once more.

* * *

Zing.

Park Sun-young’s expression was filled with rapture. How could someone create such music with just violin melodies? Like painting on pure white canvas, this young boy absorbed music. His limitless capacity for learning left Park Sun-young astounded.

Thump thump thump.

As the bow tip soared skyward, my heart beat wildly. Like finishing a marathon with breath reaching my chin, adrenaline continuously pumped through my head. Had I always loved violin this much? Why hadn’t I known in my past life? Though many questions arose, what did it matter?

Zing.

Being happy now was enough.

Almost a month had passed since starting music lessons at the Pyeongchang-dong mansion. Though I had only briefly learned in my past life, I absorbed musical knowledge as if recalling things I already knew. The pace was so fast that both Park Sun-young and I were amazed.

“Oppa, play one more piece!”

Son Yu-ha had already become my devoted fan. When I played violin, she would perk up her ears like a rabbit and gaze at me with endless admiration. Sometimes her gaze was so intense it felt burdensome. Like now. She’s not just clinging – she’s stuck to my side like a cicada on an old tree.

“But Hyun-ah, is it true you’re going back to the countryside when summer vacation ends?”

Park Sun-young sent a regretful look. Understandably so, as she had never poured so much passion into tutoring before. Though she occasionally felt inferior before Kang-hyun’s talent wall, more often she got goosebumps from his genius abilities.

“Hiing. Oppa don’t go.”

Son Yu-ha also wore a tearful expression. Though I wasn’t leaving right away, she wouldn’t let go of my sleeve. Anyone watching would think this was a reunion of separated families. I felt awkward under the lingering gazes of both women.

“I’m not sure yet.”

At this flexible answer, both Park Sun-young and Yu-ha’s expressions brightened. This life was becoming completely different from my past one – a 180-degree change. Just seeing grandfather’s changes made the future unpredictable. Yu-ha opened her cherry-like lips with wide eyes.

“Oppa, then you’re not going?”

“Well…”

Knock knock.

Suddenly, with a knock.

“Young master Kang-hyun, your car has arrived.”

Nice timing! Thanks to Driver Kim’s appearance, I could avoid giving a direct answer.

“Isn’t it boring being called here by this old man every day?”

“Not at all, I love being with grandfather.”

Grandfather showed a gentle smile. The car had brought us to none other than Dongju Chemical. After music lessons in Pyeongchang-dong, grandfather would bring me to the company rather than the Ichon-dong mansion, showing me every aspect of his daily routine.

“Hyun-ah, do you like music?”

Grandfather seemed deep in thought. His grandson’s musical talent was extraordinarily high. He had already surpassed the level of learning for social refinement. Particularly, the violin performance at the banquet remained vivid in memory, it was that remarkable. While considering his talent, it would make sense to push him toward music, but thinking of Dongju’s future, someone like Kang-hyun was essential.

“Your mother seems to have many worries.”

Grandfather was thinking of involving mother in management. His youngest daughter had been the most intelligent and wise among his children. Her ability to lead Dongju during his remaining years could be developed. Among his existing children, there wasn’t a single useful piece of timber.

“If it doesn’t work out, you could always leave it to professionals.”

Grandfather’s eyes widened. His young grandson had immediately grasped his meaning.

I had thought of bringing in professional management. Of course, this was only possible because grandfather’s disposition had changed.

“Hyun knows just how to scratch this old man’s itch.”

Grandfather’s face had been full of worry these past few days, perhaps due to the younger uncle’s affairs. He had raised such skilled petty thieves that prosecutors were occasionally showing their faces at the company. Fortunately, the problem was caught early – if grandfather hadn’t known, would the incompetent uncles have caught it? Nonsense, they would have just quietly drained the company’s finances while playing dumb.

Knock knock.

Just then, an unexpected figure entered the chairman’s office with a knock.

“Ah, Director Jeon, you’re here.”

Grandfather greeted the executive called Director Jeon. A person holding an important position related to new material development. Still, that slick face looks familiar somehow. Director Jeon glanced at me before bowing to grandfather. He seemed used to my presence, as I’d been frequently in the chairman’s office lately.

‘Where have I seen him?’

This wasn’t the first time I’d had this feeling about Director Jeon. At first, I thought I might have viewed him unfavorably as the younger uncle’s subordinate, but as time passed, suspicion turned to certainty. I definitely knew this person. From my past life, of course.

As it itched in my mind like crawling ants.

‘Ah!’

A scene suddenly flashed through my mind. Certainly from my rookie prosecutor days.

‘Jeon Han-yong.’

A person I’d faced in the interrogation room. Back then, I was too junior and could only watch the investigation from the sidelines. That was his case name. The nickname he’d used since childhood. It matched perfectly with the crimes he’d committed.

“Jeon Wan-yong.”

I spoke without thinking, and Director Jeon turned to look at me with shocked eyes. His gaze seemed to ask how I could possibly know his nickname.

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