Chapter 17

017. Movement (3)

The boy began to change.

Starting with the small fangs in his mouth.

Even a slight opening of his mouth would reveal the sharp fangs.

This was just the beginning, and as hair sprouted all over his body, cries replaced words.

Naturally, his parents tried hard to hide the boy, who was becoming more like an animal.

However, as the boy grew, not only his appearance but also his temperament became more animal-like, making it increasingly difficult to hide him.

Eventually, they could not avoid the attention of the villagers, and despite his tearful pleas, people only looked at him with suspicious eyes.

And one day, poachers burst into their home.

His parents made him run away.

Into the forest. Deeper into the forest.

After four days and nights of running, the boy arrived at another village.

There, he met a frail girl in a mansion with a different atmosphere from the village.

The two built a friendship, with the boy carrying the girl, who seemed to struggle even to breathe, on his back as they played in the forest.

But in the final chapter of the story, the girl could not escape her impending death, and the boy, now alone again, howled mournfully from a cliff, watching her funeral.

......I absorbed the synopsis into my mind, stacking the sheet music on one side while watching all the footage.

The four scenes that required music were as follows:

The scene where the protagonist, the boy, endlessly runs through the forest to escape the poachers.

The scene where the boy, trying to steal a piece of bread from the mansion, first meets the girl and becomes curious.

The scene showing the boy and the girl growing closer over several months through fast editing.

Finally, the scene where the girl dies, and the boy, in a mad frenzy, climbs to the top of a cliff and howls.

Though it was just a short video, I could understand why these four scenes were given to me later.

They seemed to be the most important parts of the film, not only in terms of visual beauty but also in terms of emotional intensity.

Moreover, the importance of these scenes could be confirmed from the request form.

Whoever wrote it had added subtitles to each scene: Escape, Meeting, Relationship, and Loss.

As if they were a single......

'Movement.'

Clearly, these four scenes showed the director's intentions more clearly than any other scenes.

Four scenes.

One film.

'It’s like a symphony......'

I thought to myself. It seems that I can only think about music no matter what I see now.

I smiled softly and put down the iPad.

I swallowed the remaining can and started to gather the sheet music stacked beside me when Manager Kim Yoon-ju, who had just finished an urgent task, came back and asked:

“Did you go through everything?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it all.”

“What do you think of the content?”

At her question, I shrugged.

“It’s interesting?”

“Right? It might seem a bit childish, but with Baek Seung-gi as the protagonist, it’s perfect. The fairy-tale atmosphere really comes alive. But Team Leader Park doesn’t like it. He says it lacks innocence, innocence.”

“I can hear you~.”

Hearing the response from inside, Manager Kim Yoon-ju was startled and stepped back into the hallway.

“Who left the office door open... Oh, it was me.”

She closed the door with a thud and grumbled about the office being too small, crossing her arms.

“Anyway, have you thought about what piece to use?”

I lowered my head and looked at the request form again, then nodded.

“Yes.”

I had thought about it.

But the more I thought, the harder it became to choose a single piece.

The four scenes each contained their own motifs while simultaneously forming a single flow, much like the symphonies Haydn completed.

However, creating just one piece? It would be like several people writing a relay story, one sentence each. It would be haphazard and crude. How could I choose just one piece?

“Can’t you do all four pieces?”

When I asked, Manager Kim Yoon-ju’s gaze fixed on the calendar. She frowned and started calculating.

“It’s not impossible, but with today’s date... there’s not enough time until the deadline, right?”

“It’s fine.”

“If you say so...”

She looked at me with a worried expression, and I smiled.

It was really fine. It didn’t matter.

I had already finished the sketches.

I stood up with the filled sheet music.

#

After finishing the recording, Han Gi-jun returned to the office, and Manager Kim Yoon-ju followed him.

“I’ve sent requests to freelancers. I expect to receive about four or five rough versions for each scene by the deadline.”

“Really?”

Noticing the rising tone in her voice, Manager Kim Yoon-ju added:

“And Seo Ho says he’ll do all four pieces.”

Han Gi-jun hesitated for a moment and let out a hollow laugh, as if he couldn’t stop him.

Team Leader Park Jae-hoon, who had been listening, said:

“If Seo Ho works as fast as he did with the piano pieces for Yoon Chart, there shouldn’t be a problem. He’ll probably make piano pieces this time too.”

“Right. It’s still too early for orchestration. But if the result is better than the other freelancers, we can help with the orchestration.”

Han Gi-jun, speaking matter-of-factly, continued:

“But the freelancers we’ve hired are all well-known composers in the industry. It won’t be easy.”

“Of course, but deep down, you probably hope Seo Ho’s pieces are better, right?”

“Yeah... No, it’s difficult to favor Seo Ho in meetings. If it’s not good, I have to say it’s not good.”

Han Gi-jun’s words made Team Leader Park Jae-hoon and Manager Kim Yoon-ju chuckle.

“Don’t worry. We don’t flatter.”

“Anyway, if it’s not good, the CEO will cut it off.”

That’s right...

Han Gi-jun mumbled and sat down at his desk.

The papers that had taken over his desk while he was away.

He licked his dry lips and smiled faintly as he tried to flip to the first page.

Though he had spoken indifferently, he was curious too.

What would Seo Ho show this time?

#

I brought the sketches I had made while watching the footage to the studio and started refining them.

It didn’t take as long as last time, but it required more mental effort.

This time, it wasn’t a piano piece.

I set the main melody for the first violin and added the other instruments one by one: the second violin, viola, cello...

Fortunately, I managed to complete the first piece to a certain extent before my violin lesson.

“Here you are.”

Kang Jun-seo was whistling and waving his hand at the square window. As our eyes met, the door opened.

“Did you have a good week?”

“Yes. How about you?”

“Ha...”

The eyes that had been drawing a circle were now gloomy.

It was a very unexpected sight for the always positive Kang Jun-seo, but I understood.

“Where did we leave off last week?”

“You said you started a group project at school.”

Group projects are unbearable.

“It’s an ensemble class, and it’s killing me... If only Sua hadn’t taken a leave of absence, we could have taken the bus.”

He then grabbed my shoulder.

“This is the weight of a college student.”

I chuckled.

I’ve been there, buddy.

Especially in our group, there was a guy who did nothing but collect data, and he deleted the PPT the night before the presentation.

Just thinking about it...

I shuddered in my sleep, and Kang Jun-seo pulled a chair over and sat down.

“Anyway, let’s check how much you’ve practiced this week. This is the third week, right? It’s about time you start coming to class without doing your homework~.”

As the lesson began, Kang Jun-seo’s relaxed smile slowly changed.

He sat up straight and checked the homework.

“Hahaha... Is this the amount you were supposed to do? No, it’s not the amount that’s the problem... You’ve done everything I gave you perfectly? Especially the tone, it’s really, really something I want to learn.”

Even the clumsy sounds compared to Paganini were praised, and I couldn’t even manage a shy smile.

After the embarrassing homework check, we moved on to the lesson. Since it was only once a week, I followed with extra enthusiasm, and as a result, I received much more homework than in the previous lesson.

Kang Jun-seo asked if it wasn’t too difficult, but it was what I wanted.

Finally, as he finished the lesson with a tired look, I subtly handed him the score.

It was the first piece I had composed, “The Boy Who Became a Wolf,” the scene where he escapes the poachers.

“Can you take a look at this?”

“What’s this? A score? A string quartet score?”

Kang Jun-seo, who had been scanning it, asked.

“Yes, I composed it.”

After a moment, he opened his eyes wide.

“You’re composing now?”

“I’m practicing.”

“Wow, you’re serious... So, what do you want me to look at?”

“Just a simple review.”

“A review like this?”

“Yeah.”

Kang Jun-seo, looking back and forth between the score and me, let out a hollow laugh.

“You were like this during the last recording too. How can you know just by looking? You have to hear it. It’s ridiculous... Can I play it and tell you?”

“Of course, I’d be grateful.”

“Wait a moment. The first violin...”

Kang Jun-seo, who had found the score, took out his violin. I quickly brought the other scores and a pencil and asked:

“Can I write down any changes you see while you play?”

Kang Jun-seo, resting his chin on the violin, nodded.

“Why not?”

Kang Jun-seo slowly sight-read the first few bars of the score.

After getting a feel for it, he started from the beginning again.

As he played the melody, he was inwardly impressed.

It wasn’t too difficult, but it was a fast-paced and impressive piece.

The scales, played allegroissimo (very fast), were urgent, as if skipping two or three steps at a time. The occasional scales that slipped to unexpected places added to the sense of urgency and tension.

To the point where even the performer felt on edge.

After finishing the piece, Kang Jun-seo exhaled a slightly heavy breath and opened his mouth.

“What is this piece? Did you really make it?”

Meanwhile, Seo Ho, who had been frantically moving his pencil on the score placed on the piano lid, nodded.

“Wow, it’s really amazing that a melody line can create such tension? I’d like to use it as an ensemble practice piece at school. From what I see, there’s nothing that needs to be fixed, so why are you fixing so much...”

Kang Jun-seo, glancing at the score Seo Ho had fixed, was speechless.

He thought he was only fixing the first violin, the main melody line.

But, no.

“The second violin, viola, cello... You fixed everything? Just from hearing my performance?”

“Having a clear performance to listen to made it easier to imagine the other parts. Still, the other string instruments aren’t as easy as the piano. When I actually listened to them, there were many places to fix. The piano was done in one go.”

Seeing Seo Ho’s cheerful smile, Kang Jun-seo thought:

The sense of frustration he rarely felt, even at Seoul National University, where geniuses abound, seemed to come up every time he taught this kid.

#

Scratch. Scratch.

The lesson was over, and I kept moving the pencil to complete the score.

Hearing Kang Jun-seo’s performance of the melody I had created was a great help. I couldn’t play the violin like that yet.

Thanks to this, the gap between what I imagined in my head and the actual performance narrowed.

The more I focused, the more I recalled a certain afterimage. It wasn’t inspiration. I was already expressing it with my fingertips.

What I recalled was another memory from the past.

‘My lord.’

The tone of I Persone, who always approached and spoke in a neither high nor low voice.

I Persone’s voice was always consistent,

so it was rare for anyone other than me to sense his emotions.

But that day was different.

It was a day when it seemed as if a hole had been torn in the sky, and rain poured down.

Even the newly arrived gardener could have noticed that his voice was trembling.

Was it because I was severely ill again? Struggling to get up, I looked at I Persone.

His footsteps, as he entered, were as muddy as the outside, and his eyes were filled with sorrow.

So, even if he tried to act as if nothing was wrong, I couldn’t be fooled.

In the end,

that day, I learned of Haydn’s death.

The funeral was already coming to an end. Haydn, knowing that I would drag my ailing body to attend, had made the arrangements.

The father of the symphony and the owner of countless motifs.

A friend of Mozart and the teacher of Ludwig.

And.

The first musician I ever sponsored.

I recalled, as Haydn had once said, Symphony No. 44, “The Mourning.” Since I couldn’t play it with my body, recalling it was the best I could do.

But at that moment, my room was a funeral parlor,

and my weeping was the funeral march.

But why?

Why did I suddenly recall this?

‘Because it’s similar?’

The sense of loss the boy felt at the girl’s death.

To express this, did I unconsciously search my memory for a similar scene?

Scratch...

Finally, the sound of the pencil faded, and the studio was quiet.

The lid of the keyboard was closed, and the violin was back in its case.

I finally lifted the pencil from the paper, hearing only my small breaths.

The pencil, once sharply pointed, was now blunt.

Like the layers of inspiration poured onto the sheet music, it had worn down.

I put down the pencil and smiled faintly.

“I’m done.”