For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 82

Chapter 82

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“Father, the weather is getting chilly.”

The last of the summer heat had finally subsided around Cheoseo (one of the 24 solar terms marking the end of summer). The cicadas, which had been singing all summer, had disappeared without a trace, and the morning grass was now dotted with dew. Autumn was unmistakably in the air.

“Nonsense, I’m not so frail as to catch a cold from this.”

It was true. Chairman Wang appeared at least ten years younger than others his age. His eyesight was sharp, and his teeth were remarkably white and even for his age—health was clearly on his side. Of course, this was likely due to his relentless pursuit of anything beneficial for his well-being, regardless of cost.

“You came here because you had something to say, didn’t you?”

Golden koi fish swarmed to the surface as he scattered fish food across the pond.

“Father, you have a meeting in Pyeongchang-dong today, don’t you?”

The corners of Chairman Wang’s lips curled up. Of course—she wouldn’t visit without a reason. He gave a short nod, curious to hear what she had to say.

“I’d like to attend that meeting as well.”

A direct pitch, straight to the point. How bold. Yet, that very boldness only endeared her to him more.

“Do you know who’s attending today?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You’re aware that Kwang-seok and Jung-seok will be there, yet you still insist?”

Chairman Wang spoke of the Blue House’s Economic Secretary and the Bank of Korea’s governor as if they were his grandsons—and in a way, they were. Both had been scholarship students of the Jeil Group, practically raised by his own hands.

“Your reason?”

“Because Korea’s future will be decided there.”

In a way, she wasn’t wrong. Not that Chairman Wang would unilaterally decide the nation’s future, but he was always ten steps ahead in foreseeing government policies and directions.

“Then, daughter-in-law, what can you offer me in return?”

There was a saying about equivalent exchange. A born merchant like him wouldn’t spare even his own flesh and blood. Yet, the look in his eyes as he gazed at her was already filled with satisfaction. She was better than most men—such fearlessness and sharp wit were innate.

“If you’d been born a man, I’d have found a way to bring you into our family regardless. In a way, it’s fortunate you’re a woman—for me and Il-seon. Otherwise, we might have ended up with a tiger even fiercer than that son of mine.”

With age, sleep dwindled, but greed only grew.

“Ah, there’s one more. Someone I’d like to make part of our family.”

Lim Hye-ra nodded as if she already knew. Pleased, Chairman Wang scattered the remaining fish food across the pond.

—

Achoo—!

A tickle in his nose threatened another sneeze. Perhaps it was the changing seasons, but the morning felt colder than a Moscow dawn. Opening the window for fresh air had backfired—now he was on the verge of catching a cold. He hurriedly closed the window and tightened his robe. Just as he was about to return to bed—

“Kang Hyun, breakfast is ready.”

The housekeeper’s voice reached him. Having grown accustomed to breakfast in Moscow, he’d almost forgotten—mornings in Ichon-dong began before the rooster’s crow. The savory aroma of doenjang jjigae (soybean paste stew) filled the air.

“How was the chemical research institute?”

Grandfather’s face was alight with curiosity. Of course—while an objective report on the Russian institute would arrive, he wanted his son’s personal impressions. His father set down his spoon carefully.

“Their synthesis facilities are lacking, but their research on graphene is on par with ours. They’ve published outstanding papers in material development, and their ideas for commercializing graphene are impressive. In terms of human resources, they’re exceptional.”

It was an era where material development was revolutionizing industries. As his father said, human resources had never been more critical. The researchers behind cash-cow materials were the foundation of Dongju, and the graphene team would soon become another cornerstone.

“What about the lead researcher?”

“Not a bad person, but… eccentric, to say the least.”

His father trailed off unconsciously—the memory of Black Martin was too vivid. Suddenly, Grandfather turned to me.

“Hyun, what do you think?”

Was this off the record?

“I liked him precisely because he’s eccentric.”

“Because he’s eccentric?”

At first, I’d wondered if he was just a namesake. But living with him revealed his true nature—layer by layer, like peeling an onion, each revelation more astonishing than the last. His vision of the future sent chills down my spine.

“Creating new materials requires breaking molds. A free-spirited, original mind is better suited than a rigid, conventional one. In that sense, Dr. Tikhonov is perfect.”

Korea’s conservative culture permeated even research institutes, where junior researchers couldn’t openly challenge seniors. Not that other organizations were any better—my time in the prosecution had been far worse.

But Dr. Tikhonov’s institute was different. Even junior researchers freely debated with seniors. The frequent tea times, seemingly random, were his way of flattening hierarchies. If they joined Dongju, they’d be like oil smoothing out stiff gears.

After breakfast—

“Hmm.”

Grandfather’s expression darkened as he scanned the morning paper. It was no wonder—companies were teetering on bankruptcy daily. Foreign banks had even labeled Korea an investment risk. The Prime Minister’s frantic denials only amplified the unease. History’s flow had accelerated, but its patterns remained unchanged. Stars in politics and business were falling one by one. I couldn’t help but wonder—what was Chairman Wang, the titan of the business world, thinking right now?

“Hyun, do you have plans today?”

I’d intended to work on sheet music in the studio, but Grandfather’s tone was unusual.

“If you’re free, come with me somewhere.”

Where? I gave him a puzzled look, but no answer came. His gaze remained fixed on the headlines. The nightmares of 1997 were becoming reality.

—

“Here we are.”

Grandfather and I arrived at the family gravesite. It wasn’t an anniversary or memorial day—why were we here? But then again, did one need a reason to visit? I stood and began plucking weeds from Grandma’s grave. Though there was a caretaker, summer’s end brought relentless growth. Grandfather watched me with pride.

“I brought your favorite.”

From where, I didn’t know—but he’d prepared hobakjeon (zucchini pancakes). Even Grandma’s favorite white milk. Grandfather was undoubtedly a romantic. As birdsong filled the mountain air, he spoke.

“Hyun.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

I knew he came here whenever he needed to make a weighty decision. This place held deep meaning for him.

“After sending Beom-kyung to Jeju, I thought long and hard. What’s the right path for Dongju? My own children… I can’t rely on them. I considered entrusting everything to your father, but you know—he’s too soft for it.”

It couldn’t be helped. Father’s nature suited a researcher, not a CEO. He was ill-matched for the cutthroat jungle of corporate politics.

“But I believe you could do it. I’m ashamed to burden you with this, but there’s no other way.”

“Grandfather, don’t you remember? Two years ago, I promised—if Dongju needs me, I’ll step forward. If Uncle acts up again, I’ll send him not to Jeju, but to Tsushima.”

Well, maybe not Tsushima—but back to the main family house. Last time, his antics nearly brought Dongju to ruin. I took Grandfather’s wrinkled hand. Unlike my past life, I had little interest in power or wealth. But for him, I’d protect Dongju as always.

“Today, I’m taking you to a special place. But if you’re unwilling, you don’t have to go.”

Where could it be? Still—

“If it’s for Dongju, I’ll go anywhere.”

At that moment, an unnamed bird soared across the sky, circling as if answering my resolve.

—

‘Where is this?’

Beyond the car window loomed a massive Western-style mansion. Tall red walls hid its interior like a fortress, and security was unusually tight today. Could Grandfather’s “special place” be the grand estate in Pyeongchang-dong?

But Grandfather’s steps carried unusual weight—his demeanor grave. As we crossed the lush garden, a man in a suit emerged from the mansion.

“Huh?”

I couldn’t help the sound that escaped me. The face was familiar. Though his hair was now black and his wrinkles fewer, this was the professor who’d offered me a Jeil Group scholarship in my past life at the Judicial Research and Training Institute. At this time, he should be at the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office, not here.

“Hyun, do you know him?”

“No, Grandfather.”

Of course—Madame Tussauds or not, he was surely another of Chairman Wang’s scholarship alumni. To think I’d cross paths with someone from my past life again. As we walked, I glanced back—just as the professor turned his head. Our eyes met. His gaze held uncertainty—likely because of mine. Don’t worry, we won’t meet again in this life.

Speaking of which—

“Is Chairman Wang unwell?”

The “Old Fox” was nowhere to be seen, and the mansion’s atmosphere felt unusually tense. What kind of gathering was this? Just as my confusion deepened, Director Lim Hye-ra approached Grandfather.

“My apologies for the delay, Chairman Yoo.”

“Not at all, Director Lim. Traffic was worse than expected—I stopped by the gravesite on the way.”

“No, everyone just arrived. You’re right on time.”

Everyone?

Our eyes met. Hers held something odd. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.

“I had to fight to join this meeting, and here you are, waltzing in. No wonder Yoo Ha likes you so much—!”

Her whisper left me baffled. Without pressing further, I followed her inside. The reception room was already occupied—just as she’d said. As the elegant paper door slid open—

“……!”

My eyes widened. Not because of Chairman Wang seated at the head—but the other guests. If the professor outside had stirred ripples in my mind, this was a tidal wave.

Gulp—

My throat moved involuntarily. Chairman Wang introduced the guests to Grandfather. They bowed, then eyed me curiously—understandable, since I didn’t know why I was here either. Did I know who they were? I might not remember my underwear color, but I’d never forget their faces. They were the ones flooding the media daily.

The Blue House’s Economic Secretary and the Bank of Korea’s governor.

The door closed, sealing us in airtight secrecy.

1997 was approaching.

I felt as if I’d stepped into a page of history.