For The Musical Genius (Novel) - Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Discord
“I never imagined Mrs. Im would be the winning bidder.”
An auction’s reputation rests on its auctioneer. The white-haired man before them was among Europe’s most renowned art dealers—so much so that no masterpiece crossed borders without passing through his wrinkled hands.
“A violinist once said: if a Stradivarius is the deep ocean, a Guarneri del Gesù is the vast earth. But this Guarneri has been imprisoned for too long. Even after its wood dried completely, it was never properly played.”
His aged gaze lingered on the Guarneri.
“In a way, it’s tragic. It surely has a voice, yet no one has ever heard it. As an auctioneer, I shouldn’t grow attached, but for this Guarneri… I hoped it would go to someone who’d play it.”
The soundboard showed no signs of age. Crafted by Guarneri’s hands centuries ago, it had likely been locked in a tycoon’s vault ever since. Other Guarneris from the same era had sung in the hands of virtuosos like Paganini—but not this one.
“I suppose it’ll go to the violinist sitting beside you?”
“You know Violinist Hyun?”
“Who doesn’t? Though you might not know this, Mrs. Im, I’m a classical enthusiast. I still eagerly await his solo recitals. That’s why I dared to approach you—are you by chance his Madame von Meck?”
He referenced the railroad magnate’s wife who’d patronized Tchaikovsky. Not some aristocrat’s idle amusement, but the first true patron who’d supported a great artist with unwavering trust.
“Hyun’s solo recitals will happen soon. Preparations are underway internally.”
“The greater the artist, the harder self-satisfaction comes. Paganini’s Guarneri was named ‘Cannon.’ I wonder what name this old violin will bear.”
“Perhaps…”
The Guarneri seemed ready to burst into song.
“Only Hyun would know.”
—
Zing.
The pitch wavered like an aspen leaf. Hyun’s arm trembled faintly, his breathing ragged. All his earlier posture corrections for Alessandro had gone to waste. The actor’s face was taut with tension—understandable, with the Eternal Maestro Gustav watching.
Thud.
Hyun’s small hand gripped Alessandro’s shoulder. Though eyes turned their way, he didn’t care. Without this, Alessandro might never regain his focus.
“Pull yourself together, Alessandro.”
Hyun would’ve preferred scale exercises, but time was short. They couldn’t ruin the first shoot. Meeting Hyun’s firm gaze, Alessandro gulped and nodded.
“You need to find the pitch.”
Unlike pianos with fixed notes, a violin’s fingerboard is blank. Narrow and closely spaced, even a slight misplacement alters the pitch. Without proper tone, technique meant nothing.
“You wanted to perfect Paganini’s appearance, right?”
This was a Paganini biopic. Even with dubbing, the lead actor’s performance had to be flawless. No wonder Jean-Pierre had cast Alessandro—his fundamentals were solid.
“Director, may we take a moment?”
Jean-Pierre readily agreed. With filming not yet in full swing, especially indoors, time wasn’t an issue. For perfection, overnight work was trivial.
“Alessandro will now play Paganini’s Caprice No. 24. I’ll coach you throughout. Understood?”
“I was about to ask the same, Violinist Hyun.”
Alessandro bit his lip—the proud actor surely wanted perfection more than anyone. As his bow touched the strings—
“Your posture is wrong.”
A grueling session loomed. Caprice No. 24 demanded advanced skill even for majors. Like much of Paganini’s work, even virtuosos avoided it onstage—in that sense, akin to Beethoven’s scores.
“Wrong.”
Hyun’s firm voice echoed. The piece required flageolet and double-stops to mimic two violins. Alessandro’s technique faltered here.
“Bend your wrist more. Relax your fingertips—they’ll loosen naturally. It’ll get easier.”
Like a pianist’s tendinitis, Alessandro’s left fingers had chronic issues. Now Hyun understood why he’d quit violin.
“Let me try again.”
Hyun tailored his coaching. Alessandro absorbed it like parched earth—had his hands been healthy, he might’ve been an outstanding violinist.
Time blurred until Alessandro’s bow finally lowered. Hyun smiled.
“Thank you, Violinist Hyun. Without you, I couldn’t have done this.”
“Repay me with your performance. Show me a magnificent Paganini.”
The hostility from their first meeting had long vanished. Alessandro’s gratitude was genuine. After a short break, filming began.
Hah… hah…
Finishing Caprice No. 24 left Alessandro’s fingers trembling, his face flushed. Yet Jean-Pierre’s excitement was palpable—the actor had played nearly as well as professional violinists.
“Director, do we even need dubbing?”
At the assistant’s words, Jean-Pierre swatted him with the script. Alessandro had exceeded expectations. Hyun gave a thumbs-up and stepped away—now it was his turn to play Paganini’s melody.
—
“It was transcendent.”
Jean-Pierre looked dazzled, recalling the shoot vividly. Alessandro’s take was successful—so much so that dubbing seemed unnecessary. But then Hyun’s performance captivated everyone.
“The same piece, yet a different melody. The Little Maestro’s playing always enchants the eyes and ears. Like legends of old.”
A flower petal swayed cheerfully in Gustav’s teacup.
“I came to advise, but seeing the Little Maestro, my presence seems redundant. He coached Alessandro better than Professor Auer ever could. Changing that actor’s chronic issues and technique instantly—no one else could manage that. Not even if Auer returned from the grave.”
Jean-Pierre had been equally stunned. Alessandro—Hollywood’s proud star—had obeyed Hyun like a lamb. Each word carried undeniable authority, like watching a master’s method acting.
“Ah, Violinist Hyun mentioned bringing the Guarneri next time?”
This surprised them. They knew Hyun owned a Stradivarius, but a Guarneri too? When Jean-Pierre confirmed, happiness wrinkled Gustav’s eyes.
“I’m deeply curious how the Guarneri will sound in his hands. May I visit the set occasionally?”
“The honor would be ours, Maestro.”
Who could refuse the Eternal Maestro?
—
“Hyun, you’re that happy?”
Director Im watched him fondly—Now he looks his age. No wonder; his grin hadn’t faded since leaving the auction. Even topping the bar exam in his past life hadn’t thrilled him this much. Why was fetching the Guarneri so exhilarating?
“The auction house will store it in Italy. We’ll retrieve it when needed—with bodyguards, of course.”
Given its value, nowhere matched the auction house’s security. Old violins demanded precise humidity and temperature control—some Chinese tycoons remodeled entire rooms as violin cases.
“We’re here.”
The crystal-like building had glass walls. Most of Europe’s modern art likely resided here under tight security. Unexpectedly, their greeter was the elderly auctioneer himself—a famed figure in European auctions.
The vault door opened. There sat the Guarneri from the auction, majestic as ever, making Hyun’s heart race anew. Noticing his flushed face, the auctioneer asked gently:
“Would you like to play it?”
“Here?”
“Of course.”
Even Director Im looked intrigued. Hyun carefully took the Guarneri. For centuries, it had never truly sung. Meticulously maintained, it could pass as newly made. Yet it was tuned and ready, its bow rosined.
“Let me hear you.”
Your voice.
The moment the bow touched the strings, time seemed to halt. The Guarneri poured out mournful tones, as if venting centuries of stifled grief. Hyun played recklessly—any piece would do, so long as it soothed the instrument’s sorrow.
The auctioneer looked mesmerized; Director Im clenched her fists. When the gleaming strings finally fell silent, Hyun understood the name this hidden treasure had waited centuries to reveal:
“You waited so long.”
After centuries of solitude, spring had come at last. Like flowers blooming after winter’s rain, this Guarneri had found its voice.
“Fiore.”
At last, it blossomed.