Chapter 12

012. An Unexpected Problem (3)

Niccolò Paganini.

He was a performer renowned for his unparalleled virtuosity.

And he was a genius violinist who was said to have surpassed the realm of humans, to the point that rumors circulated about him receiving the patronage of the devil.

A new star that appeared in the violin world once in a hundred years.

Upon receiving his invitation, I willingly headed to the concert hall.

I was curious about his performance, which even those who envied him were moved by, and it made my heart race.

And finally, I could confirm it.

A solo concert that was more groundbreaking and overwhelming than any other performance in my life.

With my excitement still not subsiding, I boarded the carriage.

However, I did not offer him patronage. It wasn't because he wasn't great enough to be patronized.

He was overflowing with talent. I wanted to build a theater for him if I could.

But he was already a wealthy musician.

So he didn't need my help.

One day, after returning to Baden-Baden and resuming my life of exchanging letters with my proteges,

a familiar envelope arrived, the same one I had seen in the invitation.

It was a letter from Paganini.

[Was my performance lacking in your eyes, my lord?]

A short, direct question.

I was more puzzled than annoyed by his rudeness.

It was as if he had expected my patronage.

It was unexpected.

Did he need money? Wasn't he already rich enough?

His intentions were hard to understand, so I couldn't reply immediately.

Around that time, my physical pain worsened, and I suffered for several weeks. I couldn't even think about replying.

Just then, another letter arrived, this time with a lavish silver invitation.

[This time, I'm holding another solo concert in Berlin. Would you come again? I'll show you something better this time. I'm looking forward to your reply.]

The pain worsened, but I still wanted to see his performance again. Of course, Il Perso tried to dissuade me...

A few weeks later, another letter arrived.

[Did you not receive my letter? It seems to have been stolen. Perhaps someone tried to steal it to auction it off. So I'm sending it again. This time, I'm holding a solo concert in Berlin...]

His intentions were still unclear, but regardless of the letters, I made a decision. I would go to Berlin to see his performance again.

Arriving with great difficulty, I attended his concert.

And as soon as it ended, Paganini found me.

"You came!"

A man with a pale face and a decadent aura. Behind him were numerous noble ladies.

"I enjoyed the performance."

Paganini smiled at my answer, his eyes sparkling.

"How? How did you enjoy it?"

"......What?"

"I want to hear your more specific impressions, my lord."

"......Well, it was..."

The gazes of those around us gathered.

Feeling uncomfortable, I spoke softly.

"I don't know yet. Not yet."

His answer seemed to disappoint many, and I could hear sighs of disappointment.

Even the whispers of "Is the 'Prophet of Music' a fraud?" reached my ears.

It didn't really hurt my feelings. I never thought of myself as a grand person like the 'Prophet of Music.' Who had given me such a grand title, anyway?

Paganini asked again.

"Not yet...?"

His gaze was even more intense. He was persistent. But if I said it here, it would ruin his performance.

Perhaps he read the worry on my face. Paganini nodded calmly.

"It's fine, please be honest."

Looking at his lips, which formed a strange curve, I thought.

He's waiting for my answer. He's expecting it. He wants me to say it.

At this point, I had no choice.

Since he said it was fine, I could say it.

"The composition and performance were both extraordinary. But since the sound was incomplete, I have nothing to say yet."

His eyes, which had been fixed on me, widened.

A strange smile spread across his pale face.

"Indeed, you are the one, my lord."

His words were as good as admitting I was right.

Is this okay? I'm saying his performance today was incomplete in front of the audience?

Sure enough, the murmurs grew louder.

"His performance... was incomplete?"

"That's ridiculous. I almost fainted."

"What he means is, if the sound is completed, an even more extraordinary performance will be created!"

"I have a reason to come to the next performance now!"

Huh?

Unexpected reactions.

My criticism made the audience look forward to the next performance.

And Paganini was smiling. As if he had expected this.

...Did he intend this?

I looked at Paganini. I was more impressed than annoyed. He was a musician who knew how to package himself to shine even more. Perhaps he was exactly what the often pretentious art world needed.

While I was thinking, Paganini came closer to me. He knelt to be at eye level with me in my wheelchair and spoke softly.

"When you left after the last performance, I thought it was because the sound was incomplete. So I practiced even harder this time."

He continued slowly. I saw his intention... no, his loneliness, which I hadn't known before.

"I locked myself in a narrow, dark tower and practiced. But it was so painful that I started to think, 'Is this enough? Is this complete?'"

"I'm sorry for saying it was incomplete."

"No, I was waiting for that. I knew it was incomplete, but everyone only praised me. I wondered why I alone had to take this painful and lonely path. But seeing you today, I feel my motivation returning."

Looking at his intense gaze, I nodded.

"I'm glad."

It was an unexpected turn of events, but I truly felt that way. I almost missed the chance to hear a completed sound.

'How extraordinary will it be?'

Imagining the completed sound, I felt my anticipation grow. Paganini suddenly asked.

"Do you also exchange letters with musicians who don't receive your patronage?"

He was eccentric.

Among all the musicians I had met, he was one of the strangest, along with Wolfgang Amadeus.

But perhaps because I was also an eccentric person,

'I get along well with eccentrics.'

I got along quite well with him.

We talked about music through letters, just like with my other proteges, and became good friends.

And at the next performance,

he showed me the completed sound.

...That's why I know.

No, I'm the only one who remembers that era without a recording device.

The virtuoso violinist,

Niccolò Paganini.

His sound, more overwhelming than his virtuosity,

was breathtakingly beautiful.

Zzzzzz—

"Phew......"

The long note ended, and I let out a small sigh.

It was a failure. This is not it. It's not comparable.

'As expected, it's not easy.'

I slowly loosened the bow. Then I looked up, and I saw Kang Junsu looking at me with a shocked expression.

"You... How did you do that? It gave me goosebumps."

Kang Junsu rolled up his sleeve to show the goosebumps, and I smiled.

"Did it sound good?"

"Did it sound good? It was perfect! It gave me goosebumps! You, are you really playing the violin for the first time? Really? You have talent!"

Kang Junsu, completely excited, asked repeatedly, finding it hard to believe. I nodded awkwardly and swallowed.

Click.

...It seems like Paganini's laughter can be heard from somewhere.

#

After the first violin lesson, my already short days became even shorter.

After school, I used to spend the rest of my time wrestling with sheet music, except for basic schoolwork. Now, I had to practice the violin and prepare for the recording of the Yoonjart OST.

I had to do all of this in just half a day.

I wanted to work until dawn, but I couldn't bear to say I'd stay longer when I saw my father, who had been working all day and had bloodshot eyes.

And he wouldn't allow me to walk alone at dawn anyway.

"Efficiency is important."

So I decided to prioritize.

The most urgent was the piano piece for Yoonjart.

Although it was a guide recording to help the substitute play smoothly, I wanted to record it properly since it was my first complete piece.

And I wanted it to be played accurately as I intended.

As a composer, I can hope for that, right?

Of course, if it can be played in a better direction within my intention, that's also good. That's the direction classical music aims for.

'Although it seems to be flowing as if it's the right answer, thanks to some masters...'

Even if it's different from the composer's intention.

I can almost hear the composers I once patronized complaining about their blood pressure rising.

I can't be their spokesperson, though.

'The composer said it, but it's not right.'

Strange. Even the word 'composer' refers to legendary masters of the Classical and Romantic periods, and a 17-year-old is passing it on.

'Unless it's 217 years old.'

Anyway.

Perhaps because of this, I felt anxious and filled the piano piece with my intentions. I redrew the score to make it easier to read.

"Is this... good enough?"

I used standardized musical notations like crescendo and accents actively, but I added comments to the parts that were still lacking.

I planned to ask for them to be included in the digital score.

It seems to be easy enough...

I smiled proudly as I looked at the revised score. But it was only for a moment. I gulped down the water in my tumbler and moved on to the next task.

Next is...

'Violin practice.'

Busy and hectic, but more satisfying days passed.

#

"Hey, Seoho, you're here?"

As I entered the company, taking off my school uniform top due to the suddenly hot weather, I met Manager Kim Yoon-ju.

"Hot, isn't it? Do you want one of these?"

She picked one of the canned drinks she was holding and offered it to me. I was about to head to the fridge, so I took it quickly.

She smiled and pointed to the left side of the corridor.

"Quickly put your bag down and come to Room B. The recording preparation is done."

Finally, the recording.

This time, it's not the main recording room but Room B.

Because this time, we're recording only the piano, unlike the last recording, which was a quintet including the piano. They said the main room, which is relatively larger, would cause too much reverberation, making the post-production difficult.

It's not always better to record in a larger room.

I'm glad I came to the company. I can naturally learn things like this.

"Got it!"

I nodded, enjoying the tickling sensation on my chest. Manager Kim Yoon-ju whistled as she headed to the main recording room. She was carrying quite a few drinks.

I was puzzled.

There were only my father and the engineer, right? Even if Manager Kim Yoon-ju drank one, there would be three or four left. They wouldn't crowd into the small room to watch...

The puzzle was soon solved.

After putting my bag in the studio and taking the score, I saw an unexpected person.

A man sitting on the sofa, carefully examining my printed score.

Various drinks that Manager Kim Yoon-ju had brought were placed in front of him.

I could guess he was from the Yoonjart production company.

"Seoho, this is Director Park Dong-jin."

Of course, I didn't know he was the director of Yoonjart.

"Hello."

"Hey, nice to meet you."

Director Park Dong-jin, who smiled, glanced at me lightly, still holding the score.

"So you're the composer of this piece?"

"My name is Han Seoho."

"Ah, I've heard a lot about you."

But I can't believe it...

Director Park Dong-jin muttered.

I smiled and looked at my father.

"He wanted to see today's recording, so he finished filming quickly and came."

My father, who was watching with his arms crossed, explained.

Director Park Dong-jin laughed and said,

"I just had to hear it myself. The piece is really good, you know."

He continued to praise me. The piece was better than what he had imagined, and he even said I looked good and had star potential, his eyes shining.

But it was only for a moment.

When my father said we were about to start the recording, his expression changed. He took out a stack of paper, which I assumed was the script, and placed it on his knee.

He must be visualizing the scenes in his mind while listening to the recorded piece.

A few days ago, when I was correcting the score, my father told me that Director Park Dong-jin was a very detail-oriented and picky person. Now, I could see that side of him.

'Good.'

The right amount of tension, pressure, and excitement mixed to create an indescribable feeling.

Sitting in front of the grand piano, the feeling intensified. It was perfect fuel.

In the deafening silence, I ran my fingers over the keys.

The sound that flowed into my ears and the sound that bounced back from the walls.

It was definitely different from the main recording room. Not only because of the piano, but also because the environment of this room amplified the quality of the sound. There was a reason they chose Room B.

The impact of space on music is enormous.

How much effort did medieval musicians put into finding concert halls that would make their pieces stand out? Some even modified the concert halls themselves.

The room system, which has become more scientific than in those days.

It's interesting. I thought it would be amazing to create recording studios that could reproduce the spatial sense I wanted someday.

But now, I need to focus on the recording.

Shaking off my thoughts, I turned my head and saw the gazes waiting for me outside.

Enjoying the expectations hanging from those gazes, I slowly raised my hands.

And.

"I'm ready."

With my short answer, the recording began.