For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Discord
“Really?”
I thought there were no new talents capable of handling the Berlin Philharmonic. However, the eternal Maestro Gustav’s eyes weren’t lying. It’s not that I doubt him. Just that there’s still something left to confirm. Just as endless ripples were forming.
Knock knock.
With the knock, the awaited figure arrived.
“Brühl, though late, congratulations on placing in the Queen Elisabeth Competition.”
“Th-thank you, Maestro.”
Daniel Brühl was more rigid than ever. Because the lion of the Berlin Philharmonic was before him. The Maestro he had only seen from afar. Even his teacher had been intimidated by this lion of the Berlin Phil. His Adam’s apple bobbed with tension.
“Brühl, you’ve seen violinist Hyun up close. I’d appreciate your thoughts about him. Even just impressions will do.”
The small-framed violinist.
“He was a giant.”
“A giant?”
His trembling voice regained composure.
“Though he was just a child barely reaching my waist, everyone at Chapelle must have felt the same. We often couldn’t hide our amazement at that child.”
“Tell me more in detail.”
“That child taught us everything he knew. I too received an unforgettable blessing. From how to hold the bow to fingering methods, and even teaching personalized bowing techniques for each person’s body type. It was like learning violin for the first time. He clearly didn’t see us as competitors.”
Could Mozart, Jascha Heifetz, and Eugène Ysaÿe really have come back to life?
“Everyone at Chapelle knew. That he would win first place. But no one was frustrated or complained. Rather, everyone was regretful.”
“About what?”
“About our days at Chapelle coming to an end.”
Yuri’s brow furrowed. The days he remembered at Chapelle were nothing short of a war without gunfire. Hadn’t sharp melodies constantly echoed in the dawn?
“Maestro, how would it feel if you could spend time with Paganini?”
“I would cry over my cursed talent, but my feet would be walking in heaven.”
“The day we first saw that child perform, everyone must have thought the same thing.”
Daniel wore a faint smile.
“That we were facing a living legend.”
*
An orchestra is one massive community. Like a spider web, everyone’s thoughts and emotions are intertwined. Without such tight connections, it would be difficult to create perfect harmony. Coordinating all of this is the conductor’s role. This was the London Symphony with its proud history. Though the members were in casual clothes, their eyes were sharp, seeming not to miss anything about me. Perhaps this suffocating tension was natural, as I had walked right into their web.
“May I borrow a violin?”
It must have been an unexpected request.
“A violin?”
“Yes, Maestro.”
Getting a violin wasn’t difficult. The concert hall always has practice violins available. Spencer gave a strange look at the old case containing Fantasia. Other members were no different. But everyone must have soon read my intention.
A fair evaluation.
I couldn’t tarnish Spencer’s reputation. After finishing tuning, I showed my respect to the audience in the seats. As I naturally took my position, the string section members were the first to lean forward. Zing―!
As the bow pressed hard against the strings, a sharp melody rang out.
Even with simple movements, the audience’s attention gathered at once.
It was rough movement. A succession of sharp, tearing melodies that seemed impossible from such a small frame. The bow and strings wailed as if envying each other. The technique of arco bowing and left-hand pizzicato reminded everyone of someone.
Paganini Caprice No. 24.
The short fingers on the strings spewed out mad technique. Such dazzling movements that one might worry the fingers would tear. Using flageolet and double-stop techniques, it was as if one violin was creating two melodies. The earlier sharp demeanor was gone, and joy began filling the audience’s eyes. At that moment, as thick beads of sweat formed and ran down my back.
Ting―!
A string broke.
The violin, sensitive to temperature and humidity. The practice violin provided by the Seoul Arts Center seemed untouched by human hands for a long time. After letting out its final cry, the string ended its life as if on cue. Finally, even the metal E string snapped, leaving only the G string.
Deep regret filled the audience’s eyes.
But the performance could be resumed after maintenance – this often happens when playing with unfamiliar violins. At this moment, the most disappointed person would be none other than the violinist himself. Just as Spencer was about to rise from his seat, rubbing his dry lips.
The violinist looked at the last remaining string. As if asking whether it wanted to stop here. Finally, as if hearing an answer, the violinist closed his eyes gently.
At that moment,
Zing―!
The bow was raised again.
The audience couldn’t believe their eyes. A story they’d only heard in tales about Niccolò Paganini was unfolding before them. Even an imperfect performance would be fine. There was still much to learn. Blood was flowing from the short fingers, but the boy seemed unconcerned.
* * *
“Ssanghwacha, even the name is mysterious.”
It had a bittersweet taste. While seemingly similar to mulled wine, it had an even deeper flavor. As if containing the mysteries of the East. The egg yolk floating like Georgian traditional khachapuri was truly a special delicacy. The savory taste still lingered in the mouth.
Arriving at the concert hall.
“Dmitri, did you meet with the Chairman well?”
Principal cellist Emmanuel greeted him. Other members were busy chatting among themselves, unusually boisterous compared to normal. These members would typically stay quiet mindful of the Maestro. But here and there, excited, flushed faces caught the eye. Even Chloe, the violist famous for being quiet, seemed excited – something must have happened.
“Emmanuel, what’s going on?”
Could the performance at this inadequate concert hall have been canceled, perhaps deciding on a return to England?
“Everyone has tasted a miracle.”
“A miracle?”
Did they all drink ssanghwacha while I was away?
“You’ll hear the details from the Maestro, who’s waiting for you. Ah, I suggested we have yangnyeom tongdak for dinner – you like chicken, don’t you? Had to work hard to convince the members.”
The cold eyes nodded and moved on.
“Oh, that iceman. Still won’t say thank you.”
Emmanuel’s voice seemed to follow, but he paid no attention.
“Maestro.”
The Maestro was absorbed in reviewing the full score. “You’re here, Dmitri. Have a seat.”
He must be checking the repertoire for the performance. Though members’ voices could still be heard from outside, his unusual lack of concern was clearly different from normal.
“We’ll need to add to the repertoire.”
“The repertoire, you say?”
Dmitri asked again. The Maestro had never changed the repertoire right before a performance. That’s how sensitive and perfectionist he was. This was the London Symphony that wouldn’t tolerate even a hint of dissonance.
“Tell the Chairman we’ll likely need to extend the performance time.”
“Maestro?”
How could the Arts Center Chairman dislike that? He’d welcome it with open arms. The audience would feel the same. There had never been an audience member who disliked getting more repertoire than originally planned. But confusion clouded Dmitri’s cold eyes. The Maestro was too different from his usual self.
“We’ll have a collaboration.”
“A collaboration?”
Who could he mean to collaborate with?
“I didn’t want to give unnecessary worry to my concertmaster who handles so much in my stead, so I couldn’t tell you earlier. Please forgive me if you’re displeased. Actually, the collaborator just visited the concert hall.”
“I always respect your wishes, Maestro. But did the members approve?”
While this was true of any orchestra, the London Symphony members had exceptional pride. In the past, they had even driven out conductors who recruited underperforming members. Maestro Spencer was the one who united these musicians with such strong musical values and individuality.
Suddenly, he recalled the flushed faces of the members from earlier.
“Maestro, who exactly is it?”
Just as numerous names came to mind.
Dmitri’s gaze fell on the violin with broken strings. It was clearly a practice violin that hadn’t been maintained for a long time. Yet all strings except the G string were broken. Maestro Spencer’s gaze also turned to the broken-stringed violin.
“A young Paganini came and went.”
*
“You’re going to buy stocks in Hyun’s name too?”
The teacup was set down with a clatter.
“I haven’t done enough for both Hyunja and Hyun. I should start paying back my debt of gratitude, even if just gradually.”
“Good thinking. Seeing you these days, I’m wondering if I should bring my daughter-in-law back too. With the house becoming lively, old man, your complexion gets brighter by the day.”
“If that’s the case, why not consider remarrying? There’d be a line of old ladies across the country.”
“Old man, you should take your own advice.”
It was the kind of joke only lifelong friends could make. The conversation continued as long as the aged fragrance lingering in the reception room. Their laughter was endless, both men completely different from their stern company personas.
“By the way, when is Hyun coming?”
Quite some time had passed in conversation. Just then, as if on cue, Kang Hyun entered the reception room, causing both Chairman Yu and Chairman Wang’s eyes to widen.
“Hyun, what happened to your hands?”
*
“It’s nothing, really, I’m fine.”
Band-aids covered several tears between the fingers. The Maestro had treated them himself. These wounds would heal and become proud calluses. Would you believe that the stinging pain actually made me feel good? Nevertheless, grandfather’s face was full of worry.
“Grandfather, it looks like I’ll be doing a collaboration.”
“Collaboration?”
Better change the subject quickly.
“It’s not adopted as part of the formal performance, but as an addition to the original repertoire. Like an encore.”
Such cases were almost unheard of in orchestra performances, especially with world-renowned symphonies. No matter how I thought about it, Spencer had given me an incredible opportunity. It’s something that couldn’t proceed without complete trust in me. Somehow, my debt of gratitude seems to grow with each meeting. That’s when it happened.
“Oppa―!”
Somehow knowing I had arrived, Yu-ha came running straight to the reception room. After greeting grandfather, Yu-ha immediately stuck close to my side, her eyes trembling as if an earthquake had struck.
“O-oppa, what happened to your hands? Wait just a moment!”
Anyone would think I had a terminal illness. Before I could answer, Yu-ha darted out of the reception room. Probably going to get a first-aid kit.
Shortly after, Yu-ha reappeared, breathing heavily.
“O-oppa! I asked the secretary unnie to call Hoho grandfather!”
“Hoho grandfather?”
“Yes, Hoho grandfather!”
Who could she mean? Yu-ha was still worriedly looking at my band-aided fingers. Though winter was far off, I wondered if she meant Santa Claus. Beside us, grandfather was trying hard to hold back his laughter. Chairman Wang rubbed his wrinkled face.
“She means my personal physician.”