For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 79

Chapter 79

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“Inauguration ceremony?”

The tea rippled in the breeze.

“Alexei, that’s not my style at all. As far as I know, you didn’t hold an inauguration ceremony when you were appointed as the director of the conservatory, did you?”

I’ve had enough of being in the spotlight on stage. I didn’t end my long break just to put on a hat. Moreover, if it weren’t for my dear friend Alexei being the dean, I would have declined the position of department head.

“Anton, I’ll be frank. There are far more people waiting for you at Tchaikovsky than there are for me. If you had actively pursued it, you would probably be sitting in this position instead of me. You know how unpopular I am with the students.”

“Are you still pushing the students to the edge of the cliff? Like a mother lion.”

Alexei’s cheek twitched. It was extremely rare for the director of the conservatory to teach. It was the first time since the founding director, Tchaikovsky, taught harmony a hundred years ago. Wasn’t it a great opportunity for the students? Of course, but considering Alexei’s temperament, he probably didn’t hold back his harsh words. After all, he was the type to bluntly criticize even professors who lacked skill in his younger days.

“The eternal Maestro will also be attending this inauguration ceremony, so don’t even think about skipping it.”

“Gustav?”

Anton’s voice naturally rose. It was hard not to be surprised. Who was Gustav? He was a legendary violinist who, along with Jascha Heifetz, dominated an era, and now, as the eternal Maestro, he was revered by countless musicians.

“Anton, it seems your reputation is quite good. People from all over are coming to congratulate you at the inauguration ceremony. They even say a ghost has appeared at the conservatory. It seems even the ghost welcomes you.”

“A ghost? Are you talking about Tchaikovsky?”

It was a ghost story that circulated when Anton and Alexei were students at the Moscow Conservatory. The story went that when the clock struck midnight, the portrait of Tchaikovsky in the concert hall would come to life. It sounded like a far-fetched tale, but back then, quite a few people believed it.

“Alexei, do you remember the bet we made in the dormitory when we were kids? The one where the loser of the vodka game had to go fetch the sheet music left in the concert hall. You were the one who lost, right?”

“Ahem, I don’t remember. When was that?”

“It feels as vivid as if it happened yesterday. You fainted as soon as you entered the concert hall that day, mistaking the night patrol guard for the ghost of Tchaikovsky. It seems the ghost of Tchaikovsky is roaming the conservatory again.”

At that moment, Alexei furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“No, this time it’s a little ghost.”

A hearty laugh echoed beyond the door.

*

Tap tap—!

It felt like my ears were itching, as if water had gotten into them while showering. I dressed in a suit for the first time in a long time, accompanied by my father. My mother had prepared it just in case, but I never thought I’d actually wear it. I never dreamed I’d be attending an event in a foreign land.

“Hyun, I always feel like this hotel looks like something out of a movie.”

My father’s words as we waited for a taxi at the hotel entrance. I looked up at the hotel. It really did. The entirely pink exterior and the friendly manager reminded me of Anderson’s *The Grand Budapest Hotel*. Just then, an old Russian taxi arrived.

“Tchaikovsky?”

The taxi driver, recognizing us through the rearview mirror, was startled. It was none other than the bearded driver I had met before. The bearded driver, who had hoped to fill his pockets with the first fare of the day, grimaced when he saw me. I had already signaled with my mouth that I would pay 200 rubles.

“We’re here, sir.”

Still, I added an extra 20 rubles for the bearded driver. People are the same everywhere. He must be someone’s father, after all. We arrived in front of the Tchaikovsky statue, passing the glory of the old Lenin statue. But after waiting for a while, Dr. Tikhonov was nowhere to be seen. Finally, my father, glancing at his watch, spoke.

“Is Dr. Tikhonov running later than expected?”

“Russians aren’t exactly known for being punctual, Father.”

It wasn’t a wrong statement. People who stick to schedules like clockwork aren’t that common. Thankfully, Dr. Tikhonov wasn’t of Arab descent. In my past life, I had felt the urge to smack Middle Eastern buyers who showed up late and excused themselves with “Inshallah” (God willing). That’s when it happened.

“Is that him?”

Even from a distance, the old car was unmistakable. It looked so ancient that even most vintage cars couldn’t compare, and it seemed like all its parts were mismatched. Dr. Tikhonov, spotting us, frantically rolled down the window and waved his hand, causing the car to sway back and forth. Oh, please don’t do that. I was more worried about an accident than anything else.

“Mr. Kang, I’m so sorry for being late. Black Martin broke down on the way.”

“Black Martin?”

“This guy here. I noticed the coolant had completely dried up, so I had to give it emergency treatment. I almost had to leave Black Martin on the side of the road. We’ve got at least twenty more years together, after all. Haha.”

So the old car even had a name. Judging by the fact that he had to give it emergency treatment, it seemed I’d have to take a taxi back after the inauguration ceremony. If I wasn’t careful, I might end up in the emergency room before Black Martin did.

“Doctor, there are a lot more people here than I expected.”

It seemed like more than just a simple inauguration ceremony for a department head. The Moscow Conservatory was packed with people, and the crowd at the entrance made it hard to imagine how many more were inside the ceremony hall.

“It’s a bit awkward for me to say this, but my cousin is quite well-known in the Russian classical music scene. He’s been traveling the world for the past few years, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. Oh, and in Russia, when there’s an event like this, the whole family comes. Everyone walking ahead of us is my relative. And those behind us too.”

As Tikhonov said, there were many people who looked alike. I had thought all Russians looked similar, but it turned out they were all related. Anyway, with Tikhonov leading the way with his invitation, we made our way inside, and a security guard gave me a puzzled look.

“Guests attending the inauguration ceremony of Professor Anton Tikhonov, please proceed this way.”

Students were guiding guests to the ceremony hall, and among them, I saw a familiar face. A young man with dark brown hair and long fingers that left quite an impression. He looked exactly the same as I remembered, except this time he wasn’t crying. Unconsciously, the young man guiding the guests glanced at me. Then, as if on a spring, he suddenly turned his head sharply.

“…!”

The young man’s eyes widened like lanterns. It was as if he had seen a ghost.

* * *

Creak—!

The dormitory cafeteria door screamed as it swung open violently. The students eating inside were filled with confusion. After all, the guy who was supposed to be guiding guests to the inauguration ceremony had come running to the cafeteria, drenched in sweat. He was supposed to be relieved soon, but he had rushed here as if he couldn’t resist the sweet smell of soup.

“Maxim, you’re about to be relieved, so what’s the rush? If you leave your post, the guests coming for the dean’s inauguration ceremony will get lost. Have you already forgotten how big our conservatory is?”

A large female student who had been eating an omelet nearby stood up. Her large hands, calloused and rough, suggested she was a percussion student. The other students seemed relieved. If Maxim started spouting nonsense, the girl’s hand would be holding not a spoon but a club.

“G-g-g-ghost!”

But Maxim was babbling like someone who had seen a specter. Only then did the students realize that Maxim hadn’t come running because of the sweet soup. The girl’s thick hand landed on Maxim’s shoulder. Like fixing a broken jack-in-the-box, she shook his shoulder a few times, causing Maxim’s body to sway violently as if he were riding a Viking ship.

“Maxim, speak clearly!”

Her voice rang like an alarm bell.

“A g-g-ghost has appeared!”

“A ghost?”

“Yes, the kid I saw back then.”

The legend that had already spread throughout the Moscow Conservatory. Some professors even said it was a ghost story that would follow the Tchaikovsky ghost from decades ago. Could it be that the ghost had reappeared? And in broad daylight? But the following shout made all the students eating in the cafeteria stand up at once.

“The ghost is sitting in the inauguration ceremony hall right now—!”

*

The eyes of Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Glinka, and Rubinstein on the walls were gleaming. The space usually used for concerts was today serving as the inauguration ceremony hall. One might think it was a solo concert by a famous musician, as both the first and second floors were packed to the brim. So many people had come that some were even standing on the stairs. There’s no need to say more.

Huh?

That’s when it happened.

‘Maestro?’

The Russian maestro Alexei was stepping onto the stage. His raised eyebrows and sharp eyes were as piercing as ever. I almost stood up from my seat in excitement.

“That’s the director of the Moscow Conservatory.”

“Huh?”

“He’s a very well-known maestro in Russia. His charisma is so overwhelming that his nickname is the Eagle of the Sky.”

I never thought the maestro would take on the role of director at the Moscow Conservatory. He had never seemed interested in nurturing the next generation. Then another figure stepped onto the stage, and my father gave me a look.

‘The old gentleman?’

It was the old gentleman I had met on the Russian airline. We had had a heated discussion about Schubert’s *Wanderer Fantasy*, so I could never forget his face. My sharp-eyed father seemed to recognize him immediately. What was he doing here?

“He’s my cousin. He’s just been appointed as the department head at the Moscow Conservatory.”

I almost let out a laugh. What a coincidence. Professor Anton’s inauguration speech sounded like the *Fate Symphony*. Judging by the enthusiastic applause, he must have been a highly anticipated professor at the conservatory. Even the stern-looking maestro was smiling broadly for once. As the ceremony was winding down, Alexei stepped up to the microphone.

“On behalf of the Moscow Conservatory, I would like to express my gratitude to the many people who have come to today’s inauguration ceremony. Especially to the violinist Andrei, who still has solo performances scheduled but came to visit his alma mater, and to Karelya, who won the Chopin Competition and is preparing for a celebratory performance.”

Quite a few famous figures had attended.

“And I would also like to express my deepest gratitude to the eternal Maestro Gustav, who has come all the way from Brussels to Moscow to celebrate this inauguration.”

Gustav? The eternal Maestro had come to the conservatory! The magnitude of the event truly hit me. That’s when it happened. As Alexei was about to return to his seat, his gaze suddenly froze, as if stuck in place. Everyone was puzzled by his expression, as if time had stopped.

Gulp—!

His Adam’s apple bobbed. It felt as if Alexei was looking at me as if to say, “That cheeky little brat?” For a moment, Alexei’s cheek twitched slowly. As if something pleasant had happened.

“By the way, it seems the youngest winner of the Queen Elisabeth Competition has also secretly joined us.”

Alexei raised his hand and pointed to the middle of the audience.

“Long time no see, violinist Hyun.”