For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 57

Chapter 57

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“You’re very handsome.”

I froze, like a frog in front of a snake. Considering she had been my direct superior in my past life, this reaction was somewhat natural. She was the director I had encountered most frequently among the elite of the Cheil Group, so my old habits must have surfaced instinctively. I clenched my fists to suppress my tension. However, in this life, she was just an unrelated middle-aged woman to me. Or was she entirely unrelated? Either way, I told myself not to be intimidated.

“Thank you.”

“No wonder Yu-ha is so fond of you. Handsome and skilled at playing the violin—this feels like cheating, doesn’t it?”

“Mom—no, Mother!”

Son Yu-ha’s cheeks flushed red. She hopped up and down in place, looking like a rabbit. Normally, she would have just said “Mom,” but for some reason, she now called her “Mother,” which was quite endearing. Watching her, Lim Hye-ra also struggled to suppress a laugh.

“Have fun. Well then, Chairman Yoo, I’ll see you again.”

Lim Hye-ra bowed politely to my grandfather and walked off to greet other guests. The feeling was different from when I first met Chairman Wang. By the way, young Lim Hye-ra looked exactly like an adult Son Yu-ha. It was hard to believe that the shy little girl with flushed cheeks would grow into a tall and charismatic “Ice Queen” who no man in the company could match. Though I knew it to be true, it still felt surreal.

‘When will I grow taller?’

I knew that my growth spurt wouldn’t come until high school, but these short arms and legs still felt unfamiliar. At this rate, Son Yu-ha, who was three years younger than me, might outgrow me soon. What on earth was she eating to grow so rapidly?

“Oppa! Let’s go look at that!”

Grandfather was busy conversing with Chairman Wang while Son Yu-ha grabbed my hand and led me around the gallery. This was a place I used to visit every morning during my previous life. Lim Hye-ra had loved this gallery so much that I could navigate it with my eyes closed. Still—

‘Tsk.’

I felt piercing gazes directed at me. Just like at the previous banquet, there were children of wealthy families here as well. Occasionally, they glared at me. The reason was simple: they had come hoping to connect with Son Yu-ha, the eldest daughter of the Cheil Group, but since she wouldn’t leave my side, they must have seen me as a thorn in their side.

Kids, if you want to be more attractive, raise your charm levels—like me.

“Are you violinist Kang Hyun?”

At that moment, someone unexpected approached me. Though he had a youthful appearance, his face was familiar.

“I’m Lee Sang-jun from Dae-oh Group. Your performance last time left a deep impression on me.”

Ah, I remembered who he was now. But seriously—he couldn’t be more than a high school student, yet he added his group’s name before introducing himself as if he were some big shot. Old habits die hard.

“If you have time, may I escort violinist Kang Hyun and the young lady?”

His habit of speaking as smoothly as butter hadn’t changed since childhood. In my past life, Lee Sang-jun and I had some indirect connections—or rather, I had only encountered him through news reports. Unfortunately for him, his jurisdiction fell under the Eastern District Prosecutor’s Office.

“The white and black lines crossing over the somber canvas seem inspired by Buren’s work. It appears that artist Lim Hye-ra wanted to depict a city composed solely of white and black tones in this painting. The eyes peeking through the gaps represent the cold gaze of an observer critiquing modern society’s issues—a truly remarkable piece.”

Well now—did he grab a pamphlet beforehand? Lee Sang-jun began explaining the artwork as if he were a curator—not to me but to Son Yu-ha. What child wouldn’t be interested in stories related to their parents? Naturally, Son Yu-ha’s eyes sparkled as she listened intently.

“I don’t think so.”

At that moment, I stepped forward.

This painting was one of Lim Hye-ra’s works I had often seen in my past life. Once, while staring at it endlessly, she had explained its meaning to me.

“It’s certainly an excellent piece,” I said, “but your interpretation is completely off. This isn’t a somber canvas—it depicts a rainy day. The white and black lines crossing through aren’t inspired by Buren; they’re simply window blinds covering the scene outside. And those eyes peeking through? They don’t belong to a cold observer—they’re the eyes of a woman longing for her hometown.”

This interpretation differed entirely from what was written in the pamphlet. Lim Hye-ra had painted this during her studies in France when she missed Korea deeply—a sentiment triggered by rainy days that brought on homesickness. The pamphlet’s description had been prepared by an agency.

At that moment—

“Hyun?” Huh?

“How did you know?”

I turned around to meet Lim Hye-ra’s gaze behind me.

*

The dinner setting wasn’t particularly pleasant—it felt suffocating under Lim Hye-ra’s persistent gaze throughout the meal. She must have been curious about how I knew such specific details about her work—details no one else could possibly know.

‘I see this tradition started back then.’

The dinner took place in an annex of the gallery—a setting reminiscent of five-star hotels with its luxurious atmosphere and renowned chefs preparing dishes right before our eyes. In my past life, these dinners following Lim Hye-ra’s exhibitions were famous events rivaling even gatherings of Korea’s top elites.

‘It’s been a while.’

I squeezed lemon over red fish soaked in oil and spread butter on top—a classic French entrée with a slightly unconventional way of eating it that I remembered from before.

“Hyun,” Lim Hye-ra asked suddenly, “have you ever been to France?”

“Pardon?”

“You seem to know how to eat French traditional dishes even better than I do.”

Her curious gaze drew not only Grandfather’s attention but also Chairman Wang’s toward me. For a moment, I nearly choked but quickly sipped water to regain composure—panicking here would only make things worse.

“I learned from a French violinist while staying in Brussels for a competition,” I replied smoothly. “He happened to be quite skilled at cooking.”

Grandfather and Chairman Wang nodded in understanding while Lim Hye-ra still seemed unconvinced but let it slide—for now.

After dinner came the highlight of the event: everyone holding wine glasses engaged in conversation—a time eagerly awaited by all attendees.

It was clear that everyone in attendance had been waiting for this moment. Though the gathering appeared casual, there was a subtle order to the proceedings as guests took turns greeting Chairman Wang. Of course, it wouldn’t be long before this role would fall to Lim Hye-ra, who would eventually take charge of such events.

In my past life, there had been a saying within the Cheil Group: “The Son family holds the management rights, but the Im family controls the finances.” This spoke volumes about her exceptional capabilities. It was no wonder Son Il-seon feared his wife so much.

“This piece here,” Lee Sang-jun began again, “is by Peter Lancher. The artist pursued a fantastical style and used a variety of mysterious colors. The boy floating on the water is a reflection of the artist’s childhood.”

Before I knew it, Lee Sang-jun had approached again. He was enthusiastically explaining another artwork to Son Yu-ha, holding a coffee cup in one hand with an air of sophistication. When he noticed me holding a glass of orange juice, he smirked as if mocking me for being childish. His behavior was laughable—especially since I already knew how his future would unfold.

Still, when someone gets something wrong, it’s only right to correct them.

“That’s not Peter Lancher—it’s Peter Doig’s work. And it wasn’t created in pursuit of fantastical art,” I interjected. “The boy depicted isn’t a reflection of the artist’s childhood either.”

Peter Doig wasn’t known for fantastical art. In fact, it was later revealed that he painted many of his works while under the influence of drugs. This particular piece depicted a boy skating on an icy lake—a scene painted while the artist was high. Far from fantastical, it was simply the perspective of someone under the influence. Ironically, after this fact came to light, the painting’s value skyrocketed—a testament to how unpredictable the world of modern art can be.

“Hyun, you seem to know quite a bit about modern art,” said a voice behind me.

I turned to see Lim Hye-ra approaching unnoticed. Her sudden remark left Lee Sang-jun speechless.

“Would you like to come work at my company for a few days?” she asked.

What on earth could she mean by that?

* * *

I was on my way back to the gallery in a car driven by Mr. Kim, our family chauffeur. Though I didn’t know what prompted Lim Hye-ra to suggest I visit her company, I welcomed the idea wholeheartedly—for one simple reason: school.

Since middle school education was mandatory in Korea, early graduation wasn’t an option. Dropping out wasn’t ideal either, as it would undoubtedly upset my parents. Despite my smaller body in this life, I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring another monotonous school life when there were so many other things I could do with my time.

Then an idea struck me: Cheil Foundation managed its own private middle school. If I could gain favor with Lim Hye-ra, I might be able to attend that school and enjoy greater freedom.

“Mr. Kim, please pick me up after lunch,” I said as I got out of the car.

Inside the gallery, staff bustled about busily. One employee approached and escorted me to Lim Hye-ra’s office.

“Is Director Lim not here yet?” I asked.

“Director? Oh, Ms. Im hasn’t arrived yet,” she replied with a smile. “She should be here soon.”

Ah—I’d forgotten she wasn’t officially a director yet in this timeline. The office interior didn’t quite match her preferences either; clearly, her staff hadn’t fully adjusted to her tastes since her recent return to Korea.

A young female employee brought me some refreshments and orange juice shortly after. Judging by her youthful appearance and slightly nervous demeanor, she seemed new to professional life. Feeling generous, I decided to offer her some advice.

“Excuse me,” I began casually. “In the mornings, Ms. Im prefers warm green tea over coffee.”

“Huh?”

“And she doesn’t like anyone entering her office before she arrives—she’s very particular about that. While she might let it slide today, make sure not even trash bins are emptied before she comes in next time.”

The young employee looked utterly bewildered—as if she had just stepped into a scene from *My Girlfriend Is an Agent*. Since my subject was implied rather than explicitly stated, understanding my advice was entirely up to her.

Just then, Lim Hye-ra entered the office.

“Hyun! Why are you here so early?”

I couldn’t exactly tell her it was because of habits ingrained from my past life—where meeting her always required arriving thirty minutes early.

“I didn’t want to risk being late,” I replied politely.

“You’re already so good at navigating social situations! No wonder Yu-ha likes you so much,” she said with a smile before turning to the young employee. “Oh—and Ms. Mi-hyun? Could you bring me warm green tea instead of coffee?”

At those words, Mi-hyun’s eyes widened in surprise while I sipped my orange juice nonchalantly.

“Hyun,” Lim Hye-ra continued after taking a seat, “do you have an agency or representation?”

At this point in time, musicians didn’t have clearly defined agencies or representation—especially not in Korea, often referred to as barren ground for classical music. Instead of agencies or managers providing care and support, large corporations were just beginning to establish sponsorship systems for musicians. Of course, things were quite different abroad.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Not at all.”

“That’s perfect!” she exclaimed unexpectedly. “By any chance…”

What could possibly be “perfect”?

“Are you interested in movies? Actually,” she explained enthusiastically, “I have a French friend who’s a film director—and he fell in love with your violin performance at first sight! He wanted me to arrange an introduction but had no idea Yu-ha’s favorite ‘oppa’ happened to be you! Here—take a look at this.”

She handed me an English-language proposal for a film project titled *La Vie en Rose* by director Jean-Pierre. The story revolved around a Jewish prodigy violinist who clung to his passion for music amidst the chaos of war—a deeply humanistic tale about beauty flourishing under oppression like a single rose blooming against all odds.

I remembered watching this film in my past life—it hadn’t been commercially successful upon release but later became recognized as one of cinema’s classic music films.

But why was she showing this to me?

“Jean-Pierre wants you to handle live violin recordings for the film’s protagonist,” she explained further. “Since you’re not affiliated with any agency yet, he found himself at quite an impasse! Of course,” she added quickly, “if live recordings aren’t possible for you right now, arrangements can be made for post-recording sessions here in Korea.”

“What?”

The unexpected proposal left me wondering if I had misheard her entirely.