For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 59

Chapter 59

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“This is far beyond my expectations!”

An excited voice echoed to the ceiling.

“How did you come up with the idea to revise the final scene like that? If it weren’t for Hyun, Moses’ last performance would have been expressed as the sorrowful voice of an old violin, rather than a melody yearning for freedom. I’m so glad I came to Korea.”

Jean-Pierre’s face was flushed with excitement. And rightly so—because of Kang Hyun’s suggestion, the storyboard for the final scene of La Vie en Rose had undergone a significant transformation. While the change was simple—shifting from playing a physical violin to performing with an invisible one—it elevated the film’s visual and auditory impact, as well as its values and subtlety, to an indescribable level.

“How did that boy come up with such a fantastic idea?” Jean-Pierre wondered.

“Jean-Pierre, what do you think of Hyun now that you’ve met him?”

It was rare for a director to personally seek out someone for live recordings, especially in a location as distant as Asia rather than Europe. But Jean-Pierre had come to Korea for one simple reason.

“It feels like meeting my ideal muse,” he said. “The moment I saw him in the documentary, I knew I had to meet this boy in person. I felt like he would inspire me in some way—and now that it’s actually happened, it’s incredible.”

Jean-Pierre was an ardent fan of Violinist Hyun. If Kang Hyun had been a Jewish boy instead of an Asian, Jean-Pierre might have even considered casting him as the lead in his film.

“By the way, do you think we could do live recordings on-site?”

“What? Why bring that up all of a sudden? Didn’t you say post-recording in Korea would be fine? Besides, France has strict child labor laws—it won’t be easy given Hyun’s age.”

“It’s okay—I’m willing to deal with those issues if Hyun agrees.”

Film shoots are grueling marathons, and coordinating schedules with a live recording artist is no small feat. Yet Jean-Pierre clasped his hands together as if he had found his muse.

Lim Hye-ra felt both concerned and pleased by his words. She had been curious about this boy her daughter admired so much. Although young, Yu-ha was just as meticulous and particular as her mother—a trait she had clearly inherited. But who would have thought she’d be admiring such an extraordinary boy? Truly, like mother, like daughter.

—

The bridge of my nose tingled—it was clear that the changing seasons were upon us. The falling leaves outside painted a vivid picture of autumn’s arrival. Despite the high-quality material of my school uniform, it still felt uncomfortable after just a few days of wear. Thankfully, it wasn’t oversized like my previous uniform; the sleeves and pant lengths fit perfectly now. Had I been stuck sitting through classes since morning, I wouldn’t have been able to endure it.

“Kang Hyun ranked first in his class on the midterm exams! Let’s give him a round of applause!”

My homeroom teacher’s enthusiastic announcement drew everyone’s attention to me. Despite not excelling in subjects outside of Korean, English, and math, I still managed to rank first in my class. The girls’ gazes felt particularly intense—almost burdensome—but at least I wasn’t ranked first in the entire school. For a moment, it felt like being a celebrity. Thankfully, I had grown used to public attention over time; otherwise, this scrutiny would have been unbearable for an ordinary student.

‘This is more wholesome than I expected.’

This school was filled with children from prominent corporate families—yet unlike at high-society banquets where kids mimicked adults and formed cliques, there were no such factions here. It was true that “parents are mirrors for their children.” In contrast, school life here wasn’t much different from any other middle school—except that there were no fights or quarrels among students. Everyone knew each other’s family backgrounds and avoided unnecessary conflicts despite their adolescent energy.

‘It’s lucky there’s a three-year age gap.’

I suddenly thought of Son Yu-ha. She would undoubtedly attend Cheil Middle and High School—but if we went to school together, I’d probably hear her shouting “Oppa!” during every break time. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if she would grow into her “Ice Queen” persona just like in my past life—and when that transformation might occur.

Just then—

“Um… Hyun?”

A girl with short bobbed hair approached me hesitantly. She was someone I recognized—she always sat in the front row and stood up when class began: our class president. Her cheeks turned red as she hesitated before speaking.

“What is it? Do you need something?”

“You know about our school’s autumn festival coming up, right?”

“Autumn festival?”

“Yes! Cheil Middle School holds one every fall.”

Were they planning to invite celebrities? Considering the students’ family backgrounds and the school’s facilities, it wouldn’t be surprising if they brought in top-tier performers.

“One of the festival rules is that each class has to send one student for a talent show,” she explained quickly. “But no one in our class wants to volunteer… And I don’t have any talents myself…”

“A talent show?”

“So… could you play your violin at the festival? Please!”

The class president blurted everything out like rapid-fire rap before tightly closing her eyes as if bracing herself for rejection.

I was surprised by how modest the festival seemed—and even more so by her request. In my past life, I hadn’t even gone near karaoke rooms during festivals; earning the nickname “grindstone” required relentless dedication to studying day and night without distractions.

Me? Performing at a school festival? Even stray dogs would laugh at such an idea! Yet here she was—eyes shut tight—waiting nervously for my response.

What on earth…

—

It was fortunate that it was the weekend; otherwise, I’d have been busy attending classes by now.

The grand mansion in Pyeongchang-dong still boasted its towering walls as always. As soon as I entered through the gate, Chairman Wang greeted me with large gardening shears in hand—a far cry from his imposing portrait from my past life.

“Grandfather! Hello!”

“Oh! Hyun! You’re here,” he said warmly while setting down his shears. “Yu-ha has been waiting eagerly for you.”

If not for his piercing gaze, he could have easily passed for an ordinary country gentleman tending his garden. His robust frame seemed even sturdier than when we first met—he looked healthier than ever.

From behind him came Son Yu-ha running toward me with excitement written all over her face—and despite myself—I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hyun! It’s been so long!” she exclaimed like someone reuniting with long-lost family members.

“It’s been so long!” Son Yu-ha exclaimed, her face lighting up as she ran toward me.

It was understandable—after all, we hadn’t seen each other much since I returned from Brussels. The brief greeting we exchanged at the Seoul Arts Center during my collaboration with the London Symphony was the last time we met. After that, I’d been preoccupied with deciding on a middle school and other matters.

Today marked my final music tutoring session with Yu-ha and Park Sun-young.

“They asked you to perform at the festival?”

Somehow, the topic of school had come up during our conversation. Yu-ha perked up, stopping her violin practice to listen intently as she moved closer to me. Being under the gaze of two women felt more overwhelming than the stares of my classmates back at school.

“Yes, the class president begged me to perform,” I admitted.

“So what’s the problem?” Yu-ha asked curiously. “Why are you hesitating?”

“To be honest, it feels a bit overwhelming. I’ve never performed at a school festival before.”

“But you’ve already played your violin in front of thousands of people! What’s different about this? Is it because it’s a free performance?” Park Sun-young teased with a playful grin.

I sighed inwardly—what kind of person did she think I was? My hesitation was simple: performing on a school stage wasn’t like performing at the Seoul Arts Center. Would young students even appreciate classical music? It seemed unlikely that their tastes would align with something so static and refined.

“You don’t need to worry,” Park Sun-young reassured me. “Who wouldn’t love hearing you play the violin? If you held a concert, I’d buy tickets without hesitation! And if anyone finds it boring, bring them to me—I’ll set them straight.”

With that, she moved closer to me, her tone becoming more earnest.

“By the way, Hyun,” she continued, “I have my graduation performance coming up soon. Could you help me practice one last time?”

Without hesitation, I nodded in agreement. Park Sun-young had been my first violin teacher—the one who taught me the basics. In this world, there were no eternal teachers or students, but I still owed her a great deal for setting me on this path.

She immediately began preparing her posture for practice. Afterward, I would also need to help Yu-ha with her technique—but I didn’t mind. This was our last tutoring session together, after all.

—

“Oh my! Hyun, you’re here?”

Just as we were wrapping up our music lesson and preparing to leave, Lim Hye-ra appeared unexpectedly. She looked at me with an expression that seemed both delighted and calculating—it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Despite having seen her younger self several times by now, I still wasn’t fully accustomed to it.

“Hyun,” she said warmly, “do you have a moment to spare?”

Of course—how could I refuse her request?

Soon enough, we were seated across from each other in the reception room—a space that smelled faintly of aged wood and leather. Spending so much time around Lim Hye-ra lately almost made me feel like I had returned to my past life.

As I sipped orange juice nonchalantly, her unexpected proposal caught me off guard.

“Live recordings… on-site?” I repeated in surprise.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Jean-Pierre says he wants you to join him for live recordings during filming.”

“But didn’t he say earlier that post-recording in Korea would be fine?”

“It seems meeting you in person inspired him deeply,” she explained with a smile. “He believes that inspiration could be even greater on set. They plan to focus primarily on scenes where the protagonist plays the violin, so filming shouldn’t take too long. Of course,” she added seriously, “everything depends on your agreement—if you’re uncomfortable with it, they’ll proceed with post-recording instead. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”

I fell into deep thought.

This wasn’t just some local trip—it was France! On one hand, seeing La Vie en Rose’s filming process firsthand sounded thrilling; on the other hand… well… it was France! Images of Moses playing his violin in the concentration camp flooded my mind—a scene so vivid that it felt as though I had watched it just yesterday despite being decades old.

“And there’s one more thing,” Lim Hye-ra added casually but with clear intent. “Jean-Pierre is curious if you could also perform the film’s theme song.”

“The theme song?” I echoed.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod. “Since you’ll already be performing insert pieces for the protagonist’s scenes, he thought it would be fitting for you to play the theme song as well—something that resonates throughout the entire film.”

She paused briefly before continuing: “The composer is someone named Michel Piccoli—have you heard of him? He’s currently one of France’s hottest singer-songwriters.”

Michel Piccoli?! Could she mean *that* Michel Piccoli—the composer behind *Rendezvous*, one of cinema’s most beloved theme songs? The thought alone left me momentarily speechless.

Lim Hye-ra continued: “Jean-Pierre suggested rearranging *Rendezvous* for violin and having you perform it instead of using vocals as originally planned.”

The idea was almost too incredible to believe. La Vie en Rose was already considered one of the greatest music films ever made—and *Rendezvous* consistently ranked among its most iconic pieces.

For a fleeting moment, thoughts of immense royalties crossed my mind—but I quickly dismissed them; this wasn’t about money.

Could I truly capture *Rendezvous*’s essence through violin alone? While it was undeniably a masterpiece I had listened to countless times before… transforming its vocal melody into instrumental form felt daunting—almost risky.

But then—

“Hyun?” Lim Hye-ra’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I realized my heart was pounding so loudly that her words barely registered.