For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 76

Chapter 76

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“I wish there was a prestigious music academy in Korea, like the Moscow Conservatory, the Royal Academy of Music in London, Juilliard, Berlin, or Verdi.”

Why did I think that?

“Because I’ve seen a genius. I wasn’t particularly interested in nurturing artists while running the gallery. That was until I met that child. Have you ever encountered a musician with Beethoven’s sensitivity and Mozart’s talent?”

The camera panned to the host. His face clearly showed confusion. This wasn’t a planned question. But he couldn’t complain. His counterpart was the owner of one of Korea’s top galleries.

“I have.”

The audience’s attention was drawn to her confident voice.

“One day, a senior professor from the Moscow Conservatory, whom I’ve known for a long time, came to visit me. That day, I played him someone’s performance of Schubert’s ‘Wanderer Fantasy.’ The sound quality wasn’t great, and the interpretation was unconventional, but the professor couldn’t take his ears off it. It was as if he was enchanted.”

Im Hye-ra paused to sip her tea. For the host and the audience, that moment felt like an eternity. With a clink, she set the teacup down and continued.

“Normally a calm man, he was as aggressive as an angry bull that day. He urgently asked me who had performed this ‘Wanderer Fantasy’ and how old they were.”

How old were they?

“When I said sixteen, his eyes shook uncontrollably. He was always a calm and collected person, like a pine tree, but not that day. He asked me again who the pianist was. He said he wanted to pour everything into nurturing this student. But I shook my head.”

Did he already have a teacher?

“He didn’t have a teacher. I can confidently say that this must have been how people felt when they saw Mozart, Beethoven, or Schubert as children. How much talent was stirring inside that small child? Moreover, he wasn’t even a pianist. The professor desperately wanted to meet him, but the timing didn’t work out.”

What does this mean?

Im Hye-ra silently picked up her teacup. The host and the audience were filled with curiosity. As the camera alternated between the host and Im Hye-ra, the host finally couldn’t resist and cautiously asked her where he was now.

“By now, he’s probably…”

At that moment, Im Hye-ra smiled and pointed her finger upward.

*

“Shto budete pit’? (What would you like to drink?)”

Some things never change. It had been a while since I last flew with a Russian airline, but as expected, there wasn’t a single flight attendant who spoke Korean. My father’s English had improved significantly, but his pronunciation still needed work. Naturally, I ended up being the translator.

“Daite sok, pozhaluysta. (Juice, please.)”

The greasy in-flight meal didn’t appeal to me, but the orange juice was excellent. It was as if they had freshly squeezed the oranges themselves—the juice was so vibrant. As I sipped the juice, I glanced at my father, who was deep into his English studies. My tendency to focus intensely on one thing, even if the world were falling apart, must have been inherited from him. He looked like he could get sucked into the book at any moment.

‘That looks delicious.’

The elderly gentleman next to me was savoring a glass of Chablis Blanc with a fresh fruity aroma. It was a long flight, so a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt, but what could I do with this small body? Even in business class, the conditions were far from ideal. The seats were more comfortable, but otherwise, it wasn’t much different from economy.

Huh?

Then something caught my eye.

“Schubert’s ‘Wanderer Fantasy’?” The elderly gentleman was holding a score of Schubert’s piece. My voice slipped out, and I felt his head slowly turn toward me. He had the deep eye sockets and hooked nose typical of Russians, but his eyebrows curved downward, giving him a softer expression.

“Young man, you seem to know this piece?”

Of course, I’ve been playing it a lot lately. Director Im Hye-ra had been pushing me to release a formal recording after hearing my performance. But I wasn’t ready yet. Looking at classical scores, I’m always struck by how much agony and inspiration went into composing them. When I look at the scores of the great composers who left their mark on history, the notes on the staff feel like a deep ocean. The deeper you dive, the more you’re amazed by its unfathomable depth.

“I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you. I couldn’t help but notice. It’s one of my favorite pieces.”

“No, it’s fine. But you speak Russian very well, young man.”

It was surprising to hear fluent Russian coming from an Asian boy. Moreover, I had been studying Russian even more intensely lately. To an outsider, it might seem like I was born and raised in Moscow.

“Which part do you like the most, young man?”

“Can I really pick just one part? I can’t even imagine what agony Schubert went through to sketch this score. The way the rhythm changes from the first movement to the fourth makes me think he was a true genius.”

“But if you had to pick just one part?”

Pianist Alfred Brendel once said that wandering is the condition of romance. Was there ever a musician more suited to Romanticism than Schubert? The ‘Wanderer Fantasy’ was a groundbreaking piece, incorporating elements of a grand symphony into each movement. The rhythm of the opening chords that run through the entire piece was a revolutionary idea. In short, this score, with its unfathomable depth, opened new horizons for musicians bound by traditional forms and limitations.

“I think the melody of the wanderer played by the left hand in the second movement is pure thrill.”

Looking at his score, I felt as if I had secured a seat at Schubert’s favorite salon, the ‘Schubertiade.’ The elderly gentleman’s eyes showed clear interest. His lips twitched as if he had finally found a conversation partner after a long time. We engaged in a continuous discussion. Of course, this was only possible because the business class cabin was empty.

“I can’t help but admire your talent, young man. I never imagined I’d have such a deep conversation on a flight to Moscow. Are you majoring in piano?”

“No, I’m not majoring in piano.”

The elderly gentleman’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded calmly. Just because you can deeply interpret a score doesn’t mean you’re a pianist. My father was still lost in his English studies, and the conversation with the elderly gentleman continued. It had been a while since I had such a well-matched conversation partner. Time flies like flowing water. Soon, the scenery of Moscow began to appear outside the window.

* * *

“Alexei, over here.”

The sharp-featured Alexei walked toward the elderly gentleman. His expression remained as unchanging as ever. But the elderly gentleman’s face was filled with warmth, as if he had reunited with an old friend.

“You didn’t have to come out to greet me personally, Director.”

“Enough with that embarrassing ‘Director’ title.”

“But you’re officially the director of the Moscow State Conservatory now, aren’t you? I never thought you’d take that position while I was away.”

“Once my sabbatical is over, I’ll return to Moscow. I’m not traveling the world. And you even visited Korea. Anton, if you had refused the position of department head, I would have cursed you out right here.”

Alexei had mistaken the flight time and arrived at the airport an hour late. Yet, Anton’s smile didn’t fade.

“Alexei, you once told me that there are geniuses in this world who defy description. I was on my way back from Korea after hearing an incredible performance. And on the flight back to my beloved hometown of Moscow, I met a brilliant composer. If Schubert were alive, he would have hugged that child with all his might. I met someone who loves his scores so deeply.”

“What are you talking about?”

Alexei had never seen his old friend Anton so excited. He had always been calm and collected, like a philosopher from the Soviet era. But now, his lips kept twitching as if savoring something sweet. Anton then recounted everything that had happened in Korea and on the flight, like a long drama.

What?

It was as if Schubert had come back to life? Wasn’t that an exaggeration? But then again, when it came to piano performance, Anton was the authority.

But that wasn’t what surprised Alexei. As he listened to the story of what had happened on the flight, his sharply raised eyebrows twitched. He couldn’t hide his astonishment, especially when he heard about the unnamed boy’s interpretation of the ‘Wanderer Fantasy.’ Alexei urgently turned to Anton.

“What’s the boy’s name?”

It couldn’t be, could it?

For a moment, a certain boy flashed through Alexei’s mind.

*

“Hyun-ah, who was that gentleman earlier?” My father, who didn’t speak Russian, was curious about the conversation I had with the elderly gentleman. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even asked for his name. Both of us were so engrossed in discussing Schubert’s score that we didn’t even think to introduce ourselves.

Just then,

“Mr. Kang?”

It was the doctor from the Russian chemical research institute who had come to pick us up. His name was Vladimir Tikhonov, if I remember correctly—quite a mouthful. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but…

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. And who’s this next to you?”

He looked like he had just rushed out of the lab. His sandals were full of holes, and he gave off the vibe of meeting a friend rather than conducting business. As my father had said, he was quite an eccentric. The rapid-fire Russian made my father look flustered, so it seemed I’d have to keep translating.

“He’s Mr. Kang’s son.”

We got into an old car and headed to Red Square. The doctor, uncharacteristically chatty for a Russian, kept pointing out the scenery outside the window without pause. Thankfully, he switched to English for my father’s sake. Outside the window, the history of Russia unfolded like a panorama. The Lenin statue stood as a reminder of the old glory, and the Kremlin Palace and Red Square, preparing for an upcoming festival, came into view.

“That’s the Tchaikovsky Conservatory.”

The Moscow State Conservatory. As I had heard, it boasted antique architectural beauty. The Tchaikovsky statue added to its charm, and the undergraduate students carrying instrument cases were filled with passion. Surely, their fingers were calloused from hours of practice.

“Your son is into music? I highly recommend the Tchaikovsky Conservatory. If you have the talent, they’ll accept anyone. I’m not just saying this because it’s my hometown, but the teachers here are truly outstanding musicians. And the students are exceptional too. Plus, there are many beauties. Like that student over there.”

The chatty doctor pointed out the window while driving. My father and I naturally turned to look. It was a young lady carrying a violin case. Her platinum blonde hair and green eyes were striking. She looked like a white rose come to life.

Huh?

“Anna?”

The name slipped out before I could stop myself. Her appearance and aura had changed, but it was definitely Anna. Just as I was about to roll down the window and call out to her,

“Alright, let’s go—!”

The chatty doctor stepped on the gas as if it were a scene from a movie. I turned my head sharply and watched Anna’s figure recede into the distance. Her fresh smile and platinum blonde hair swayed as always.

But why! Why is she taller than me now?