For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

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“How do you predict this competition will go, Editor-in-Chief?”

Gramophone’s Editor-in-Chief Adam Wisho was a globally renowned critic. There wasn’t a melody in the world he hadn’t heard. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he knew the history of all violinists inside and out. Adam brushed his dry lips. Who would have thought they’d request an interview with him.

“A war of stars, that should sum it up.”

From China’s Zhang Yan to Northern Europe’s Erik and Britain’s William, all the renowned newcomers headed to Brussels without exception. Among them was also a violinist called ‘Hyun’ whom they couldn’t meet despite searching all the way to Korea. This Brussels would undoubtedly be the hottest and most brilliant in the competition’s history. Moreover.

“Because the devils of melody are present.”

The interviewer apparently hadn’t expected the word devil to come from a devil’s mouth. You could hear them swallowing hard.

“Would you believe someone spending over a decade devoted to interpreting a single piece?”

What could this mean?

“They are people who love and hate the violin more than anyone, studying and recording melodies. They say when an old person dies, it’s like a library burning down. So just imagine how vast the collection of melodies must be in their minds.”

France’s Pierre Ganel, Russia’s Alexei, China’s Deng Run, and many other masters came to Brussels. People who had lived their entire lives looking only at music. They never spared harsh criticism about melody. Could it be coincidence that these particular and fastidious individuals gathered in one place?

“Final question. Who do you think will take first place?”

Adam shook his head at the interviewer’s question. That’s not the kind of question to ask. A critic wasn’t someone who assigned scores. Just as there’s no right or wrong in life, melodies couldn’t be ranked. Sharon was right after all. This new recruit was definitely overconfident.

*

“He looks much younger than expected.”

It was one master’s comment. But the other masters watching the boy through the door crack all silently nodded in agreement. Though he was 14 in Korean age, his actual appearance looked three or four years younger.

“But what conversation is he having with Mr. Alexei?”

Chinese master Deng Run narrowed his eyes with perked ears. Though rough Russian kept being heard as if they were talking about something, he couldn’t understand the content at all. The other masters seemed equally curious.

“Hmm, that fellow seems angry?”

French master Pierre Ganel showed a questioning expression seeing Alexei’s raised eyebrows.

“No way, he wouldn’t fight with a child. It must just be because Mr. Alexei naturally has such a cold expression.”

But everyone secretly thought it possible, given it was Alexei. After all, he hadn’t gone out to welcome but to see just how impudent the boy was. That’s when.

“Wait a moment, let me see what’s happening too.”

A master standing in the back tried to squeeze forward. The others’ expressions soured, worried the boy might notice them hiding.

“Oh?”

It was the moment Deng Run’s body tilted like a roly-poly doll.

*

Creeeak―!

It was the sound of the door opening. Accompanied by a strange scream, the massive door apparently hadn’t expected to be opened. It seemed unable to bear the weight anymore. But.

‘Who are these people?’

The folks who were just peeking at me through the door crack. They nearly fell but barely managed to correct their posture. Avoiding each other’s gazes, embarrassment was clearly written on their faces. The Russian who had been frowning suddenly sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face.

‘Are they friends?’

I thought he was a racist. But his friends all had unique skin colors. Their ages seemed varied too. Well, overseas age differences of even ten years count as friendship if minds match. But some faces look strangely familiar? Is it because they’re foreigners?

“Uh, uh.”

Eva stammered, unable to hide her confusion.

“Impudent kid, these are all people who came to see you.”

So what?

“I don’t know these people, why interfere, old man.”

The Russian’s brow furrowed roughly. His already stern eyes glaring at me made him look like an angry bald eagle. Would he ask me to play violin here again? I looked down at the case in my hand. Of course, it wasn’t Fantasy.

For such a sensitive instrument, even moving it required time.

Strictly speaking, it wouldn’t be strange to have security guards escorting it. It wasn’t worth just a penny or two. It would probably arrive around competition time.

By the way.

‘Who on earth are these people?’

Are they really friends of the racist? Their gazes studying me intently were all unusual. Deep looks different from the Russian’s stern eyes. Well, would I, who dealt with violent criminals as a prosecutor, be intimidated by this? I didn’t avoid their gazes but rather met each one.

“H-Hyun.”

Eva stammered, clearly flustered. She probably hadn’t expected me to have a staring contest with them. Consider yourselves lucky, old jaguar, owl, Count Penguin – all of them had such distinctive appearances.

“Violinist Hyun, do you not know who we are?”

Then the owl stepped forward. Judging by his accent and appearance, he was likely Chinese. Anyway, asking if I know them? Why should I? There’s no rule saying I need to know all Queen Elizabeth staff members. Still, I should check.

“Perhaps you’re friends with this grandfather?”

I asked politely in English while glancing at the Russian. The owl seemed to consider briefly, then checked the Russian’s expression before shaking his head. As expected, a racist wouldn’t have an Asian friend.

At that moment.

“How did you play Beethoven’s Violin Sonata ‘Spring’?”

The old jaguar stepped forward and looked at me. His graying hair and liver-spotted face revealed his age.

“I saw the tape.”

Though they said only judges could see it, apparently it could be stolen. It was a moment that cracked my expected dignity of Queen Elizabeth. Well, I should understand, it was an era practically without CCTV. But where exactly is Queen Elizabeth being hosted to employ such elderly staff?

“Just play as your heart desires, without being bound by anything.”

A simple and clear answer.

But everyone seemed lost in thought.

The old jaguar looked at me as if needing more explanation.

“Someone said that when a violinist comes to Bozar, they must pick up their bow. That thinking itself is constraining.”

I glanced at the Russian and moved on. Eva followed in surprise.

Meanwhile.

Alexei unconsciously bit his lip hard.

“Impudent kid!”

But that kid had already disappeared beyond their sight.

* * *

“A violinist received Spencer’s recommendation letter?”

Britain’s William smirked. This is how competitions were. A place full of groundless rumors and fabrications. But everything would be proven by skill. Wasn’t Spencer the conductor who rejected even himself, hailed as Britain’s top newcomer? He was London Symphony’s pride and Britain’s representative master. Such a person wrote a recommendation letter for someone other than himself? What nonsense.

It was a gathering of 60 preliminary passers. Being selected from countless violinists worldwide, their skills were unquestionable. Some notable newcomers stood out. There was a participant who studied under Berlin Philharmonic’s concertmaster, as well as China’s Zhang Yan and Northern Europe’s Erik.

‘What?’

William doubted his eyes at first. Because there was such a young child. With a physique more suited for a junior competition than Queen Elizabeth. Not just him, but everyone present seemed to occasionally glance at this child.

“William, I hear the person who received the recommendation letter is named Hyun.”

The manager approached and whispered in his ear. Hyun? The name was clearly Asian. William’s gaze swept over the Asian violinists like combing through them, finally landing on the young child sitting alone. But he quickly turned away. Must have been looking in the wrong place.

*

‘Good grief.’

This isn’t a zoo, yet everyone who enters the waiting room doubts their eyes when they see me. They’d probably stare less at a monkey in a cage. Some were now openly glaring at me. They probably think I got in by mistake or bought my way in.

‘First cut to twenty-four.’

Though they were still fledglings compared to renowned masters, their pride and dignity about violin reached the sky. That’s how musicians typically were. They surely had no doubt they would make it to the final list. But why?

I found myself smirking involuntarily. Hadn’t I experienced this at the Judicial Research and Training Institute in my past life? That instinct felt like it was sprouting again, stirring deep inside my body. Still, my whole body is tense. These are undoubtedly the top newcomers.

As time passed, the room grew busy.

Participants were hurriedly tuning their violins. Of course, they would have already done fine tuning, but they were getting into position. Word was that this time’s judges were particularly peculiar. Not only were they harsh critics, but they would often stop performances after just one note. Though it seemed unlikely they’d go that far in a competition, unlikely things do happen. By the way.

‘Why is that proper fellow staring?’

It was an unpleasant gaze. A British participant smirked at me before turning away.

At that moment.

“The first round will now begin. The order will be randomly selected, and you will perform your designated pieces.”

Tension fell over the room as the competition staff entered the waiting area. Some adjusted their clothes, others wiped their palms with handkerchiefs. Even those smiling to hide their nervousness – participants were using various methods to relieve tension.

“Number thirty-seven.”

The staff called out the number. Being first, it naturally drew everyone’s attention. Most looked relieved it wasn’t them. Given the conservative nature of the music world, there was a perception that the first performance in a competition carried the most weight. After calling the number, the staff pronounced the name with awkward pronunciation.

“Kang Hyun.”

That proper fellow’s eyes widened as he turned around, as did everyone else’s. When I walked out confidently at that moment, no one could hide their surprise. I passed through the crowd with a smirk. Watch carefully, this is just the beginning.