For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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“Lot 27, $1.05 million!”
The piece, Light and Shadow by Italian artist Henri, looked like a six-year-old’s scribbles at first glance. Yet in modern art, few works were more avant-garde. Who could’ve guessed its value would multiply tenfold in the future?
“Lot 121, $1.1 million.”
“Lot 98, $1.15 million.”
The bids climbed in $50,000 increments. Private auctions like this often announced each bidder, unlike larger venues where only the winner was named. Then Director Im Hye-ra raised her paddle.
“Lot 77, $1.2 million.”
Her luck with investments was uncanny. She bid effortlessly, her demeanor unshaken even as prices soared into the millions. After three calls, the gavel struck.
“Hyun, isn’t this fun?”
To a child, it might’ve seemed thrilling—a lavish experience money couldn’t usually buy. But Hyun had attended hundreds of auctions in his past life, tagging along with Director Im like clockwork. He’d studied modern art like a textbook to earn her favor. Frankly, he probably knew more than the seasoned auctioneers.
“The next piece is The Thinking Woman by French neoclassical painter Rubi de Lurin.”
Hyun’s eyes sharpened.
That’s a fake.
In the future, this very painting would be exposed as a forgery after carbon dating by the French National Museum. Yet bidders clamored for it like starving wolves. Watching them, Hyun couldn’t tell if they were buying art or stocks.
“You’re frowning. Guess we’re skipping this one.”
“Huh?”
Had she been reading his expressions all along? Director Im smirked, making Hyun feel like that World Cup-predicting octopus. He’d need a better poker face. Then—
“The next item is a 1743 Guarneri violin.”
Hyun’s heart pounded wildly.
—
“Old man, this is directly from Yunnan.”
Chairman Wang poured rich pu-erh tea like a man showcasing treasure. Sourced from Pu’er County—the tea’s namesake and a key stop on the ancient Tea Horse Road—this aged batch was rarer than wild ginseng.
“Chairman, how can you bear to share such a rarity?”
“Tch, why hoard it when we’re growing old together? Besides—”
“Besides?”
“We’ll need to sit together at the ceremony.”
Given his grin, he surely meant a wedding, not a funeral.
“Old man, want to see something fun?”
Chairman Wang pulled out a small photo. His usually stoic mouth nearly reached his ears—was this a picture of his first love? The moment Chairman Yoo saw it, his eyes bulged.
“I had an extra print made secretly. These kids are downright unbearable.”
“I’ve been watching since the airport. This looks like a movie scene.”
“I’d hang it in the living room if I weren’t afraid of seeming sentimental.”
“Sneaking extra prints isn’t sentimental?”
“Ahem. They’re just too adorable.”
The photo captured a kiss under a fountain’s sparkling spray, radiant as fireworks. No grandfather could resist smiling.
“Oh, and I’ve prepared a gift for my future grandson-in-law.”
“Grandson-in-law? Isn’t it too early?”
“Chairman Yoo, you know the rule: good things must be claimed fast.”
What exactly is he planning?
—
“Lot 103, $800,000!”
The Guarneri’s price skyrocketed. Unlike famed Stradivarius violins with nicknames like “Lady Blunt” (which sold for $15.9 million), this one had none. The auctioneer explained it had been a decorative piece in a tycoon’s mansion.
“Lot 99, $950,000.”
“Lot 120, $1 million.”
Too expensive for an instrument? Hardly. In Hyun’s past life, he’d ignored luxury watches and cars, having no hobbies to speak of. Yet this violin set his heart ablaze. He yearned to raise his paddle—but at $1.3 million, it was beyond his reach.
Then—
“Lot 77, $1.5 million!”
Director Im raised her paddle. Why? She only cared for modern art. The gavel fell, and she winked at Hyun.
“It’s yours.”
“Huh?”
“Your grandfather said you’d understand. Consider it your composition fee.”
Hyun’s face burned. He’d once jokingly asked for one of the “holy trinity” of violins as payment for composing the Jaegil Group anthem. He never imagined it’d actually happen.
—
“You’re making a film about Niccolò Paganini?”
A flower petal floated in the teacup, its fragrance fresh.
“What a delightful trip. I never thought Italy would produce a Paganini biopic.”
“Maestro, the honor is mine. I’d never have dreamed you’d be here. Had Eden not told me, I’d have missed you entirely.”
Jean-Pierre glowed. The elderly man before him was none other than Gustav, the “Eternal Maestro.” Without conductor Eden’s tip, this meeting would’ve been impossible. For a music film, expert input was invaluable—and Gustav was a living encyclopedia.
“But won’t my presence on set be intrusive? I’d hate to make anyone nervous.”
“Maestro, no one would dare think that.”
“Your kindness touches me. Now, who’s handling the violin dubbing?”
Naturally, he’d be curious. Paganini’s playing was legendary—so much so that he was rumored to have sold his soul to the devil. Gustav’s wrinkled eyes brimmed with interest.
“Violinist Hyun. A prodigy from Asia, though you may not know him.”
The petal in Gustav’s cup trembled.
“Director, your eye for talent matches your eye for film.”
“Pardon?”
“It seems I’ll be staying in Italy longer than planned.”
Gustav’s unexpected smile deepened.
—
Hyun’s heart still raced like a hot stone after the auction. He ached to play the Guarneri, but delivery would take time.
Is this really happening?
Chairman Wang’s thumbs-up flashed in his mind. Their verbal agreement about the violin as payment for the anthem lacked legal weight—yet the old man’s words about “not allowing a live-in son-in-law” suddenly felt ominous.
“We’re here.”
The set was the concert hall where Hyun had played days prior. With filming starting on Paganini’s performance, Alessandro—who’d even visited Hyun’s hotel—was surely the most nervous. Their schedules had clashed due to the auction, preventing a meeting.
“Hyun, an important guest is arriving today.”
“Guest?”
“A renowned musician advising on the film. I reached out on a whim, but he accepted so readily I’m still stunned.”
Jean-Pierre’s excitement hinted this was no ordinary figure. For music films, more experts meant better quality.
“Alessandro, may I adjust your posture?”
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Hyun.”
In full Paganini makeup, Alessandro’s violin stance was refined—unsurprising for a former music major. Yet something was off.
“Paganini bent his index finger more. His abnormally long, flexible joints allowed unique techniques. Your shoulders are too upright—his were twisted.”
Alessandro stared dubiously. Like Chapel and London Symphony musicians, he struggled to believe such unorthodox posture. But then—
Zing.
The transformed melody made Alessandro’s eyes widen. How could posture alter sound so drastically? As he gaped, a wheelchair entered the set.
A man in a black suit pushed it, its occupant a familiar elder. Alessandro turned, then froze.
“G-Gustav?”
No violinist could ignore the Eternal Maestro. Jean-Pierre rushed over barefoot. Alessandro rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was dreaming. Then Gustav extended a hand toward Hyun.
“Long time no see, little maestro.”
Little maestro?
Alessandro’s jaw dropped.