For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Discord
All eyes in the audience turned at that moment.
Zing.
A sharp melody reached the concert hall’s ceiling. A beam of light shone directly toward the source of the sound. The audience held their breath at the figure dimly appearing in the darkness. Between the deep red soundboard, thin black strings were intertwined, appearing to caress the violinist’s cheek.
That’s when it happened.
As the conductor’s hand moved.
Zing―!
The violinist’s bow began to move frantically. The bow moved brilliantly as if determined not to miss any of the densely packed thirty-second notes. People were so mesmerized by the sight of the bow meeting the strings continuously that they forgot even to marvel at it. Even the masters sitting in the audience leaned forward eagerly, unable to believe their eyes.
Paganini Caprice No. 24.
It was a piece that encompassed numerous techniques including parallel octaves, high positions, fast passages, pizzicato, and arpeggios. Even accomplished masters hesitate to perform Paganini’s pieces in concert halls. Yet this violinist showed not even a hint of hesitation. They displayed techniques freely as if Paganini himself had been reincarnated. Moreover, the sound instantly captivated the audience’s eyes and ears. Like the devil’s melody.
Swoosh―!
The sound of the bow pressing strongly against the strings was as sharp as a blade. The orchestra members waiting for their cue doubted their own eyes. Despite the weight of countless gazes from the audience pressing down like a tidal wave, the violinist was only further asserting their presence.
The rehearsal had been good, but this was completely different.
It was a shocking encore stage that made one forget about the Beethoven Recycle performance. As the violinist approached the stage, the lighting gradually intensified. When the violinist’s figure was finally clearly revealed, the audience released their held breath with admiration.
Zing―!
The one creating these devilish melodies was none other than a young boy in a tailcoat! The audience couldn’t tell if they were dreaming or if this was reality.
Meanwhile, Yuri, the lion of the Berlin Philharmonic, was also sitting in his seat with clenched fists and wide eyes.
*
I soaked my fingers in ice water. The calluses between my fingers showed signs of tearing again. The performance had stretched over two days, and there was still one more encore remaining. Paganini’s pieces are densely packed with countless notes. Even outstanding masters would drink whiskey to calm their nerves when performing the Caprices. Without this treatment, my fingers wouldn’t hold up. But then.
Thump thump thump.
After the performance ended, I felt my heart beating wildly. The tidal wave of emotions I hadn’t noticed while holding the bow now engulfed my entire body, making my legs tremble naturally. Yet the Stradivarius ‘Fantasy’ still gleamed with silver strings as if wanting to cry out more.
At that moment,
Knock knock.
Spencer came looking for me with a knock.
“Hyun, some guests have come from far away to see you.”
Wheelchair sounds?
Surely, Spencer wouldn’t bring just anyone to the waiting room.
“Oh?”
It was the elderly gentleman I had met at the Beaux-Arts Hall. His intense gaze from that time was still etched in my mind. Was the person pushing the wheelchair handle some kind of secretary to the elderly gentleman? But his gaze was also so sharp that he didn’t seem like an ordinary person.
“Pleased to meet you, I am Gustav.” Could it be!
Could he be referring to the Star of Austria?
“Ah, hello. I’m Kang Hyun!”
I quickly bowed deeply in respect. After all, if this Gustav was truly the Star of Austria, he was already a living legend.
“Diakoff is my name.”
The middle-aged man who had been pushing the wheelchair also revealed his identity.
“Could you be Yuri Diakoff, the conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic?”
The middle-aged man with fierce eyes briefly nodded in affirmation.
Huh―!
How did this happen?
“I had no idea the Maestro would come. If you had contacted us in advance, we could have prepared a proper reception.”
A modest spread of refreshments and tea had been prepared. Spencer, who never seemed to appear small before anyone, was more humble than ever before the eternal Maestro Gustav.
“That’s quite alright. Today’s protagonists are the London Symphony and violinist Hyun. I came to congratulate, not to burden you. By the way, this tea is quite excellent. Is it a traditional Korean tea?”
Though I didn’t know who had prepared it, it was Ssanghwa-cha. It even had egg yolk floating in it, but Gustav took a sip as if savoring it.
“Hyun, may I touch your hands for a moment?”
Who could refuse such a request? Gustav carefully examined my hands and briefly closed and opened his eyes.
“It’s true indeed. These are truly hands that haven’t been playing violin for long. I had heard about it from Eden, but seeing it in person is simply astonishing. I never thought I’d encounter something more surprising than when I first met Jascha.”
Jascha?
Could he be referring to the unparalleled genius Jascha Heifetz?
Yuri and Spencer both silently moistened their lips with tea. Their naturally fierce gazes made it seem like sparks might fly from their unspoken tension. That’s when Gustav smiled like a kind grandfather.
“Hyun, where would you like to go?”
“Pardon?”
What could he mean?
“Between London and Berlin, that is.”
* * *
Gulp―!
Back Jung-hoon’s Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably. All of Korea’s renowned musicians had gathered at the Seoul Arts Center without exception. Of course, this was the first time a world-class symphony orchestra had visited Korea. Even ordinary citizens had turned out in unexpected numbers. He never dreamed so many people would show interest in classical music. With cameras lined up everywhere, it could have been mistaken for a film set.
“Oh my, Jung-hoon, hello!”
“Oh, hello.”
It was Kim Saet-byul, a reporter from *Daily Q*, who had conducted an interview with him before. She spoke quietly, perhaps conscious of the surrounding attention.
“I didn’t know you’d returned to Korea so soon.”
“I’m just here briefly.”
While studying abroad, Jung-hoon had heard about the London Symphony’s performance in Korea. Of course, there was another reason why he had suddenly decided to return to Korea—he had received information that *that child* would be performing during the encore stage.
“Did you know a Korean violinist will be performing during today’s encore?”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
Of course, he was aware—he had flown back just to see that performance. When Jung-hoon showed no particular reaction, Kim Saet-byul turned her gaze toward the stage. She seemed more focused on writing a vivid column about the London Symphony’s performance than conducting an interview.
“Wow―!”
Jung-hoon didn’t have time to pay attention to the exclamations coming from those seated nearby. As expected of one of the world’s top orchestras, the entire symphony moved as one under the conductor’s gestures. Performing Beethoven’s Recycle at such a level required immense confidence—it wasn’t something just anyone could attempt. The quality was on another level. Collaborating with such an orchestra was a dream come true for any musician.
‘How will it unfold?’
As the encore approached, Jung-hoon felt his heart pounding uncontrollably. Somewhere in this dimly lit audience, perhaps even Hirose-sensei was present. Just as his anticipation reached its peak—
The sound of a violin pierced through his ears. A beam of light illuminated the center of the audience. Jung-hoon clenched his fists tightly as his heart raced wildly. Like a reincarnated Paganini, the boy stepped forward. The previously murmuring audience was instantly captivated by the melody that stirred their very cores. Could a fourteen-year-old truly possess such boldness? The suffocating pressure of facing a virtuoso gripped everyone in the hall.
When the performance ended, Jung-hoon realized he was standing in ovation.
Clap clap clap clap―!
Not only Jung-hoon but everyone in attendance offered their heartfelt applause. Each person seemed lost in the overwhelming emotion and electrifying thrill that coursed through them. For a moment, Jung-hoon’s gaze met Kim Saet-byul’s. Her eyes were also filled with awe and on the verge of tears from sheer joy. She recalled what Jung-hoon had once said during their interview:
―”Korea’s classical music scene is about to undergo monumental change.”
*
The past few days had been nothing short of chaotic.
As soon as the London Symphony’s performances ended, media outlets and various press organizations flooded me with interview requests. The attention far surpassed what I experienced when I appeared on *Documentary 5 Days*. Even my violin performance aired on the 9 o’clock news—what more could be said? While gazing absentmindedly out of the car window—
“Hyun-ah, are you really not considering studying abroad?”
Grandfather cautiously broached the subject.
He’d brought it up on the day of the performance as well—when Gustav, known as Austria’s eternal Maestro and Star, personally asked me whether I would go to London or Berlin. My answer had been simple: I wasn’t planning to go anywhere yet. Though it was undoubtedly an offer beyond my wildest dreams, I intended to stay in Korea at least until I reached adulthood. If collaboration offers came again, I could always travel briefly for those opportunities.
“All learning has its time and place,” Grandfather said with concern. “I worry about that.”
Indeed, there were countless cases where child prodigies grew up only to become average talents. Grandfather’s concern was entirely understandable. However—
“I can pursue the music I want right here in Korea.”
Faced with my unwavering stance, Grandfather reluctantly nodded in agreement. Before long, our car arrived at a gallery in Seoul—a place I’d visited often in my previous life.
It was under Cheil Foundation’s management.
“Lim Hye-ra Art Exhibition.”
‘So this is when she returned to Korea.’
This marked the return of a woman who would later become one of Cheil Foundation’s key figures—an influential figure in my previous life as well. The gallery was filled with prominent figures from Korea’s elite circles and renowned artists alike. However, today I wasn’t here as Grandfather’s guest; rather, it was violinist Kang Hyun who had received a direct invitation from the gallery.
“Oppa―!”
As expected, Son Yu-ha greeted me enthusiastically as soon as I entered the gallery. Dressed in a frilly outfit adorned with lace, she looked like she considered herself today’s star attraction. Her gaze toward me seemed even more intense than usual—as if my collaboration with the London Symphony had only amplified her admiration for me.
Occasionally, I felt people’s eyes on me too. After all, my name and face had been plastered all over recent news broadcasts; there likely wasn’t anyone here unaware of violinist Kang Hyun’s presence. Still, everyone maintained decorum—no one approached me directly or acted overly familiar.
Then it happened.
“Chairman Yoo! Thank you for coming.”
A woman with a somewhat cold demeanor bowed her head toward Grandfather. Her long straight hair and model-like proportions made her stand out immediately—she looked like an older version of Son Yu-ha herself.
I knew exactly who she was.
“It’s been a while,” Grandfather said warmly. “Have you decided to settle down in Korea now?”
“Yes,” she replied politely. “My father has been urging me to return for some time now, and I thought it might be time for me to live here again.”
She was none other than Son Yu-ha’s mother—Lim Hye-ra herself.
In my previous life, she became Cheil Foundation’s director—a formidable figure often mentioned in Son Il-seon’s autobiography: *”The only person scarier than my father is my wife.”*
Having worked closely with Cheil Foundation during my legal career in my past life, I knew her personality better than most—it all came flooding back now.
“So you’re Kang Hyun?” she asked directly.
Yes… Director Lim Hye-ra herself! Her question almost made me instinctively respond aloud.