For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 55

Chapter 55

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“Sauvignon Blanc, please.”

The acidity and fresh fruit aroma of white wine lingered in his mouth.

“Maestro, may I ask one thing?”

The lion of the Berlin Philharmonic, Yuri, hadn’t touched wine yet due to jet lag. But now, wine was the only way to ease his troubled mind.

“Ask anything, Yuri.”

“No matter how I think about it, I can’t understand what you meant by Eden Simeon choosing you.”

“Was that bothering you so much?”

By chance, they were the only two in first class.

“Yuri, how many riddles did you solve when you were at Chapelle?”

He was referring to the riddles at Beaux-Arts Hall. Finding mistakes in symphonies.

“Three, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, you were the best. Even Eden only managed to solve two. Honestly, I never thought there would be a new talent who could solve those riddles. In all objective capabilities, you were superior to Eden. That’s an undeniable fact.”

Then why?

“I once had the same concerns as you. It was when I was studying under Professor Leopold Auer. He declared he would only take one favorite pupil, and Jascha and I were the candidates. I was confident then. Looking at objective indicators or competition awards, I thought I wasn’t inferior to Jascha in any way. Believe it or not, Jascha Heifetz was then a novice among novices who even struggled with spiccato. But in the end, Professor Auer chose Jascha Heifetz.”

Past memories surfaced in Gustav’s wrinkled eyes.

“In my passionate youth, I couldn’t accept this fact. I visited Auer’s mansion in pouring rain. Seeing my flushed, drunk face, Professor Auer said this.”

Gustav frowned momentarily, as if recalling that day.

“‘You and I are different colors,’ he said. I was deeply shocked. How could I, whom I considered the most outstanding talent, not work with the best mentor, and for such a seemingly trivial reason? At the time, I thought it was just a dishonest excuse from a professor who didn’t want to teach me. But as time passed and I became a mentor myself, I understood.”

“Understood what?”

Gustav just smiled enigmatically without answering. Yuri downed his white wine in one gulp as if to quench his burning thirst. After some time, Gustav slowly began speaking.

“A mentor is like fertile soil that can provide nutrients, and the student is like a sensitive flower. The flower’s appearance changes depending on which soil it grows in. When you meet violinist Hyun, you’ll understand the feelings I experienced.”

The empty wine glass caught his eye.

“Your current appearance reminds me of my younger self, drenched in that heavy rain.”

*

“Hyun, can’t you check mine too?”

The problem started when I helped adjust a violinist member’s posture. After persistently asking, saying they’d watched the Queen Elisabeth documentary, I slightly corrected one member’s posture, and immediately their tone became richer.

“Chloe, I don’t know much about viola.”

Violist Chloe showed a dejected expression.

“Alright, but don’t be disappointed.”

Chloe nodded, her freckles twitching. To the untrained eye, the viola might look similar to a violin, but it’s actually a distinctly different instrument. Its deep, resonant range is something a violin can’t match, and the difference in tone becomes more pronounced with skill level. But why?

Zing. Chloe’s eyes widened like saucers.

“It-it changed!”

Chloe unconsciously raised her voice. Understandably so, as just a slight posture adjustment had made such a clear difference in tone. When the usually timid Chloe raised her voice, even members who hadn’t shown interest before hurried over to me. Even Michael, who plays the snare drum, asked me to correct his drumstick grip – that’s beyond my abilities!

“Hmm, how should I explain this?”

Cellist Emmanuel stroked his bald head as if he were a detective.

“Perfect pitch doesn’t even begin to describe it – this would be impossible even if Mozart came back to life!”

I didn’t know how it worked either.

I simply adjusted their postures according to what I saw, for those who had maintained standardized positions their whole lives. Their faces were all flushed red. Like when they first held their instruments. I was just as bewildered. How could I have known my ability would apply to cellos, violas, and even double basses?

“The Muse’s Touch!”

Emmanuel suddenly exclaimed as if he’d had an epiphany. Though it seemed like a nickname derived from the Midas touch, he looked quite satisfied with it.

That’s when.

“Hyun, come here a moment.”

Maestro Spencer appeared.

“You want to do something unconventional?”

Spencer gave a brief nod.

“Hyun, I don’t want your first collaboration to start dryly. Moreover, this is your homeland. Don’t feel pressured, just think of the audience who came solely to hear your melody. For them, your first stage will become an eternal memory.”

It was an unexpected proposal.

Just being able to perform an encore with the London Symphony was already a great honor. When I couldn’t easily respond, Spencer spoke first.

“How about staging it like Paganini, for instance?”

“Pardon?”

Spencer showed an enigmatic smile.

“So it will leave a deep impression in everyone’s memory.”

* * *

My reflection in the mirror felt unfamiliar. Though I had worn a tuxedo in my past life, I’d never worn one at such a young age. While the members were busy exclaiming how cute I looked, to me I just looked like a little penguin.

Knock knock.

Then came a knock at the door.

“Hyun, do you have a moment?”

Cold eyes fixed on me.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

It was Dmitri, who normally never spoke to me. Though I thought we’d never become close, seeing him visit me right before the performance, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Are you nervous before the performance?”

Of course, I wasn’t completely free of nerves. But.

“More excited than nervous, just from holding the bow.”

Dmitri showed a peculiar expression. “Hyun, I was twenty-five when I first performed with an orchestra. Though it’s already been over a decade, I was so nervous then that I worried I might collapse on stage.”

This was Dmitri, known as cold-blooded for his unchanging expression. To think he could get nervous too.

“I finally found peace only after shouting loudly in an empty warehouse where no one would come. For a shy Russian bachelor to hold a violin in front of thousands was torture. Even now, my heart races wildly when I hold the violin before an audience. Each time, I empty my mind in an empty warehouse.”

Now I understood. The reason Dmitri came to find me. He came to help ease any anxiety I might have. It was the concertmaster’s role to consider not only the members but also the soloist’s condition.

“Hyun, what do you think a violin is?”

“I think it’s a living soul. Even with the same violin, the legato, spiccato, and trills sound completely different depending on who plays it.”

“Then, how about your violin today?”

I silently looked at the old case containing Fantasia.

“Well, I wonder?”

Dmitri showed a faint smile never seen before.

“Like the Maestro, I didn’t believe in prodigies, but after facing you these past few days, my thoughts have changed. I came to ease your mind but instead found comfort for my own spirit. I’ll wait at the encore stage. Show the audience clearly.”

As Dmitri left, he quietly spoke in Russian.

“Hyun’s world.”

*

The Seoul Arts Center Concert Hall was packed from early evening.

The audience was full to the point where “sea of people” would be an apt description. Had there ever been such a large audience since the concert hall’s construction? Wealthy domestic figures could be spotted here and there, along with world-renowned masters. The most excited were none other than the broadcasting stations and journalists. After all, this was the first time a world-class orchestra was touring domestically. Their excitement was natural. Soon, the bustling audience fell silent at once.

Because the orchestra had appeared.

Tension descended under the subtle lighting, like an approaching storm.

When the conductor appeared, thunderous applause erupted as the members rose in unison. Spencer, with his deep eyes, showed his respect to the audience. Spencer immediately turned to face the members. Each one had burning eyes. As if all preparations were complete.

Beethoven Recycled was the tour’s theme.

Someone once said,

Beethoven’s symphonies are impossible to interpret.

Each conductor’s style varies greatly, naturally changing the direction of the piece. Beethoven’s works were at the center of this discussion. While some said musical notations should be interpreted literally, others believed they should be adapted to the orchestra’s characteristics. What about tempo? The breathing that begins each symphony wasn’t precisely marked, differing with each conductor. In this regard, the London Symphony’s beginning was like thunder.

Da-da-da-dum―!

The baton suddenly cut strongly through the air.

Beethoven’s Symphony “Fate.”

Dozens of instruments began sounding in unison, following the movement of the thin, slender baton. The members moved in perfect coordination with the baton’s movements, which directed tempo, rhythm, and melodic direction. A succession of thunderous melodies matched the intense finger movements.

Da-da-da-dum―!

It was truly a resonance worthy of its reputation. The conductor’s power and orchestra’s vitality were clearly felt. The audience held their breath at the continuously resounding melody that struck like lightning. They had no moment to rest, their eyes and ears captivated by the flowing succession of ensembles.

Breathing without a single disruption, like one giant instrument playing.

Beethoven’s Choral Symphony.

The performance rushed through from the Fate Symphony to the Choral. Considering that top orchestras worldwide don’t easily include Beethoven symphonies in their repertoire, it was certainly a bold decision. Though popular with the public, these pieces are difficult to perform satisfactorily. But.

Crack!

Everyone had unconsciously clenched their fists at the thrill that penetrated their entire bodies. Freude, schoner Gotterfunken! Gotterfunken!

Joy, O joy, beautiful divine spark! Beautiful divine spark!

The audience burst into admiration at the choir’s cry at the end of part two. Wasn’t the powerful voice flowing from soprano to tenor creating perfect harmony with the orchestra’s thunder? Everyone in the concert hall felt their hearts beating continuously.

The final encore,

All members seemed prepared, adjusting their postures. The audience, faces flushed red, watched the conductor’s fingertips. But the soloist wasn’t visible. Yet the orchestra remained completely unperturbed. As the soloist continued not appearing, incomprehensible murmurs filled the hall. Just as those murmurs grew louder.

Zing―!

A melody began resonating from the center of the audience as the bow pressed strongly against the strings.