Chapter 30

030. Each One's (2)

"Okay, cut!"

At the sound of Director Park Dong-jin's strong voice, actor Minjae stood up from the piano.

The intense acting was over, and relief was evident on his face.

Director Park Dong-jin's voice continued.

-Now, we'll prepare for the actual performance.

Finally, it was my turn.

I got up from the corner of the audience and approached the stage.

I climbed onto the stage, exchanged greetings with the musicians, and sat down at the piano.

The musicians, as if realizing it was the real thing, began to loosen their hands and make fine adjustments.

I also gently pressed the keys.

I heard a sound that I hadn't been able to hear earlier due to the ongoing filming.

-.

At the same time, I realized something.

Although it was the same Steinway 318, it was slightly different from mine.

'...So this is the sound it makes.'

I analyzed the sound calmly, as I had expected.

The piano is an instrument made of wood, but wood is not made by humans.

No matter how great a craftsman makes it with the same perfect method, it cannot produce the same sound.

And I didn't dislike that subtle difference.

It wasn't a flaw, but a personality.

Meanwhile, the musicians who had finished their preparations one by one began to look at me. When most of the musicians' gazes were directed at me, I turned my head to look at Director Park Dong-jin.

Director Park Dong-jin, who met my eyes, raised his megaphone to signal the start of filming.

-Ready... Action!

The camera started rolling.

The filming had already begun, and now all I had to do was give the signal to start the performance.

I turned my head again and scanned the audience.

It wasn't a prearranged signal.

Just because, if I were the protagonist of Yuncharter, I would have done it this way.

He wasn't starting the filming, but the performance.

He would definitely look at the audience like this...

I stopped my thoughts as I cast my gaze over the audience.

All the actors were looking at me.

It was natural, as the cameras were rolling to capture their reactions.

But for some reason,

The expectation on their faces was the same as that of the audience waiting for a performance.

A genuine look of anticipation, not just acting.

Only then did I realize.

Not just for me, but for them, this place was already a concert hall.

I smiled and gave the signal.

And at that moment.

-!

The horns played a majestic melody, gradually descending.

I prepared in the countless fragments of time.

For the powerful leap of the piano that would follow.

───!

#

...Jin-gyu Lim knows this piece very well.

To the extent that he wonders if there has ever been a piece he has delved into so deeply in his entire career as a pianist.

After all, this was the piece he brought to the Tchaikovsky International Competition finals.

The score, the dynamics, which phrases are important, where to hold back emotion, and where to let it burst.

He naturally knew them all by heart.

And the most important 'theme' that encompasses all of this.

The theme of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 is 'nostalgia.'

Whether it's a good memory or a bad one, it lingers in your nose and suddenly comes to mind.

A nostalgia that creates a pleasant tingling sensation.

Jin-gyu Lim, recalling the content of the piece, marveled.

'Perfect.'

He is keeping everything intact.

He doesn't exaggerate to make it look more dramatic, but plays faithfully within the score.

The performance contains the cool wind of being in the heart of Russia, the Slavic atmosphere, the loneliness, and the frustration.

Jin-gyu Lim finally understood why Park Dong-jin had praised that boy so much.

He was 17 years old.

It was indeed a remarkable talent. To be able to do this at his age.

"......"

He listened to the performance again.

His admiration gradually faded.

He smoothly overcame even the difficult passages, and the phrases that were hard to express were easily passed.

The moment he stumbled on a difficult part, the piece would be ruined. A mistake that even professionals often make, but there was none.

In other words, he had already surpassed that stage.

'This is really remarkable...'

So he tried to acknowledge it.

He could be called a genius.

At this age, with this level of skill, he would stand out even in the orchestra he belonged to.

But then, the piece reached its climax.

The cadenza, a solo section.

A part where the soloist can break free from the constraints of the piece and shine.

As he entered this section, the piano chords poured down, riding on the layered melodies of the strings.

He was still playing according to the score, but the color of the piano that had been leading the grand concerto had changed.

This subtle change was a shock to Jin-gyu Lim.

'...The style has changed.'

The Slavic atmosphere of Russia had disappeared. The performer was suggesting a completely different place.

Having wrestled with the piano for over 30 years, he could feel it instantly.

...Europe?

It started from there.

The piece began to undulate like waves.

It was no longer Tchaikovsky's 'nostalgia.'

Perhaps this was...

The performer's 'nostalgia.'

'But, can something like this be called 'nostalgia'...?'

Jin-gyu Lim was puzzled.

It felt like he was facing a wave as big as a house.

How vast must the storm of memory be,

How much must the absolute quantity be,

For such a large nostalgia to approach?

A piece he thought he knew better than anyone else felt unfamiliar, as if he were meeting it for the first time.

But he couldn't say it was wrong.

Endless expressiveness built on perfect technique.

He was completely absorbed, forgetting the presence of the camera. It didn't matter how his expression was captured.

Now that the piece was over, he only hoped to hear his friend's voice soon.

"Cut!"

...Jin-gyu Lim sprang up from his seat.

And he approached Han Seo-ho straight away.

There was a lot to talk about.

#

...A few days later.

Russia, Moscow, Beinov Symphony.

As Jin-gyu Lim entered the practice room, a few members who were packing up their instruments greeted him enthusiastically.

"Jin-gyu, did you have a good trip?"

"From your expression, it looks like you did."

He smiled at them.

"Does it look like it?"

"Yeah, you even look a bit heavier."

He had definitely eaten a lot...

Smiling, Jin-gyu Lim approached the members and glanced at the room attached to the practice room. He had come to report his arrival, but it was noisy inside.

"Is the conductor doing something?"

"He's arguing with the president."

"Again? Why?"

"It seems the president plans to increase the cooperative foundation."

"So?"

"So the president is asking the conductor, who is the face of our orchestra, to attend public events. But the conductor finds it extremely annoying. That's how it ended up... Anyway, they're like very close brothers."

While focusing on the rapid explanation, a stern voice came from the door.

"Thanks for thinking so highly of me, Rito."

"Haha... President."

Rito, who had been chatting happily, suddenly deflated. President Gregory, who had been looking at him indifferently, turned his head to look at Jin-gyu Lim. His blue eyes made him flinch.

"Jin-gyu, are you here?"

"Ah, yes."

Nodding briefly, he passed by and left the practice room.

Only then did Rito, who had been cowering, lift his head.

"Looking at him, he should have been a soldier, not a president. Like in the KGB."

"Hey, why is the president back?"

"Ah! You scared me!"

Watching Rito's reaction, Jin-gyu Lim chuckled and fled into the inner room.

Pavel, the conductor of the Beinov Symphony, waved his hand at him in his office.

"Hey, you're here?"

"Yes."

"But you should have come a bit earlier. About 30 minutes. Then I could have told my brother to get lost because I had something to talk to you about for the next concerto... But, my brother is gone, right?"

"Probably."

Heaving a slight sigh of relief, he smiled. With a mischievous face.

Who would have guessed that this person was the brother of President Gregory? They were so different.

And who would have thought that this person was the great maestro Pavel?

While Jin-gyu Lim was amazed at this fact that he still couldn't get used to after several years, Pavel asked.

"So, I thought you were resting well in Korea, but why did you suddenly call and say you wanted to perform Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in the next concert?"

After a moment of organizing his thoughts, Jin-gyu Lim answered softly.

"I heard that piece in Korea... It was an amazing performance."

Pavel showed interest, perhaps slightly intrigued. His eyes lit up even more when he heard that the pianist was 17 years old.

"Do you have any video of it?"

There was no video, but there was a movie.

It would take some time before it could be officially viewed.

"It will take quite a while to be available in Russia. I'll show it to you then."

"Hmm, I guess there's no choice."

After explaining the situation, Pavel nodded.

Then he returned to the main topic and asked.

"Anyway, after seeing that student's performance, you realized something, and you want to perform Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in the next collaboration... Is that right?"

"Yes."

Jin-gyu Lim nodded firmly.

Thud.

Jin-gyu Lim put down his bag when he got home.

He took out a bottle of beer and sat on the sofa, stretching out to relax.

He stared at a trophy placed in the living room for a long time, lost in old memories.

...In fact, he had never aimed for a prize.

His goal was to win, a long-held dream.

But the result of his best performance was third place.

He was disappointed.

I can't do any better than this.

This is my limit.

However, the reaction in Korea was the opposite.

The media was buzzing with the news of his prize, and articles praising him were everywhere.

So he couldn't even express his disappointment.

When they held a microphone to him, saying he had brought glory to Korea, he couldn't say that the wall was too high and he was disappointed.

'I achieved my dream.'

He said something he didn't really feel.

And in private, he endlessly pondered.

How could I have won?

What was I lacking?

But then.

'Even during the solo, it doesn't have to be Tchaikovsky. That's when the performer should express themselves.'

"......"

Jin-gyu Lim chuckled, emerging from his thoughts.

A short laugh that mingled frustration and exhilaration.

He felt like he had finally found the key.

And it was from a 17-year-old student.

#

After the last filming, I became a jobless person (?).

And with the school on break, I suddenly had an abundance of time. Thanks to this, I could devote most of my time to the violin, except for when inspiration struck and I wrote down music.

The more I did, the more Joon-seo Kang screamed, but a student can't always follow the teacher's pace.

Of course, I didn't forget to visit Chairman Baek Han-gil from time to time.

Before I knew it, it was back to school.

The weather turned chilly in no time, and the trees on the streets began to turn red.

And finally, Chuseok was approaching.

As planned, Yuncharter was released in theaters nationwide...

<Chuseok Movie Triad. Blockbusters cry, Hollywood stumbles, Yuncharter charges solo...>

<Yuncharter, capturing both fun and emotion, and even music, to draw in theater audiences!>

<'What is this legendary performance scene?' Yuncharter, word of mouth spreads, breaks 2 million in one week!>

The reaction was more explosive than he could have imagined.