Chapter 45

045. Main Event (2)

The day before the main event.

The opening gala began at the Great Hall of the Tchaikovsky National Conservatory.

A gathering of over two hundred participants who had passed the preliminary rounds.

Famous Russian orchestras, such as the St. Petersburg Symphony and the Svetlanov Symphony, took turns sweeping the stage.

The heat from their performances spread to the participants.

The stage was so intense that the burning passion was clearly visible on everyone's faces.

I had never seen such a grand and high-level collaboration in Korea, and before long, I was completely absorbed.

Whip.

Under the dynamic gestures of the conductor.

──!

Vivid threads are intricately woven on a delicate loom.

The completed picture was magnificent and grand, fully embodying the unique Russian style.

“······”

I don't know how many times I swallowed during the performance. The aftertaste lingered even as the congratulatory speeches continued and the opening ceremony was declared.

After the opening ceremony, which evoked so many emotions, the participants were assigned practice rooms.

The practice rooms were somewhat small to accommodate over two hundred participants.

They were even smaller for those with small instruments other than the piano.

Fortunately, I was assigned a piano practice room. If I had been given a violin room, I wouldn't have been able to practice the piano, so it was only natural.

“Let's see, the piano's condition...”

I carefully pressed each key.

It was well-tuned.

There were no rattling parts.

“Not bad.”

I muttered to myself and left the practice room with my tumbler.

Doors lined up on both sides.

The corridor reminded me of the university I attended before the regression, and I arrived at the lounge in the middle.

It was already quite crowded.

Participants of various ethnicities, genders, and age groups.

“···”

“···”

“···”

As I passed through them, I felt a common sentiment.

A sharp sensitivity.

Their eyes, sharp and probing, endlessly scrutinized each other.

Not the eyes of colleagues making music together, but the eyes of competitors who might pose a threat to me.

“Sigh.”

I let out a short sigh.

Suddenly, a sense of unease, reminiscent of Brinner, rose up, but I quickly regained my composure.

‘I’ve been through college exams, group projects, job hunting, and office politics. This is nothing.’

I chuckled as I filled my tumbler with water. A blonde foreigner next to the water dispenser glanced at me, then glanced again.

Well, a foreigner...

It feels a bit strange. I used to look like that too.

As I thought this, he glanced at me for the third time and spoke.

“You must have practiced the violin really hard.”

Upon hearing his awkward English, I immediately knew he was French.

His blue eyes were fixed on my fingertips holding the tumbler.

“Your calloused hands must have taken a lot of effort to get back to this state.”

His eyes were genuinely admiring.

······Hmm.

I had two thoughts.

Should I stop the awkward English and switch to French?

Or should I clear up the misunderstanding?

Unlike what the Frenchman thought, I didn't have calloused hands from years of practice. It had only been a year and a half.

So, my fingers looked this way because I practiced so hard that even the calluses had become part of the strings.

That's why he probably looked at me with curiosity.

After a moment of consideration, I decided to prioritize smooth communication.

“Shall we speak in French?”

“Oh, you can speak French!”

He was surprised and then tilted his head.

“But how did you know I can write in French?”

Well, your English sounds too much like French.

Of course, I couldn't say that honestly, so I said it felt like Pavel's accent.

We walked down the corridor, holding our tumblers, and introduced ourselves.

“I’m Leo Duboche.”

“I’m Han Seoho.”

“Han... Seo... Ho...”

Leo mumbled.

As we asked each other about our performance order, we found ourselves in front of my room.

“Good luck with your performance the day after tomorrow.”

“Good luck with your performance tomorrow!”

I waved to Leo, who clenched his fists, and entered the practice room.

I smiled. It was a brief but enjoyable conversation.

‘At least there are some participants who aren’t so cold.’

Thinking of Leo Duboche, who seemed to stick to anyone, I opened the dark violin case.

The violin main event was scheduled for 7 PM the next day, so I decided to practice the violin first.

‘It’s been a while.’

I carefully took out the Guarneri I received from the foundation this morning.

Meanwhile, Leo Duboche was heading to his room, feeling good about making a new friend.

No matter how I think about it, he was an impressive friend.

Those hands...

‘How much time did he spend playing the violin?’

I stuck out my tongue, feeling a subtle thrill, but then something seemed off.

······Wait.

‘Didn’t I just come from a piano room?’

#

The next day.

The Rosconcert employee finished lunch and prepared to go to the Tchaikovsky National Conservatory.

Although there were already staff members on site, on-site inspections were a necessary part of the manual to avoid missing any details.

Staff had already been dispatched to St. Petersburg for the cello and vocal events the day before.

The employee was about to grab his bag when the official suddenly approached.

“Let’s go together.”

“···!”

The employee's excitement plummeted at the sudden company. His plan to enjoy the performances during the inspection was ruined.

‘If I go like this, I won’t be able to hear that participant’s performance...’

But he couldn’t show his disappointment, so he followed the official with a forced smile.

The two left the Rosconcert building.

While waiting for the traffic light, the employee asked to break the awkward silence.

“By the way, sir, something seems off.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first participant to pass both instruments seems to be treated too casually.”

A stage that might be recorded in history.

The media is quiet because we haven’t announced it, but it’s strange that even internally, there’s no effort to create a buzz.

But the official spoke as if it were natural.

“He’s not a Russian boy. This year, we’re already disappointed by the lack of promising rookies, so there’s no reason to hype up a foreign boy. Some even worry that it might lower the competition’s prestige, so many secretly hope he’ll be eliminated in the first round.”

“Ah, I see...”

The employee nodded.

Thinking it was a very Russian reason.

They arrived at the Tchaikovsky National Conservatory at around 6 PM, halfway through the first day of the main event.

The staff were preparing for the evening competition.

The two first inspected the Great Hall where the piano competition was held and then headed to the Small Hall.

“······It seems there are no issues here yet.”

The official nodded, listening to the on-site staff’s report, and looked around.

“We are checking regularly.”

“Regular checks don’t guarantee no issues. Don’t be overconfident; always check thoroughly. It would be unacceptable for a ridiculous mistake to occur in a competition that is Russia’s pride.”

The on-site staff nodded vigorously at the cold response. Then, he suddenly looked around.

“Ah, and... a little while ago, Maestro Pavel and pianist Lim Jin-gyu entered the venue.”

The on-site staff pointed to a spot in the gradually filling audience.

The two turned their heads naturally.

“Wow...”

The employee gaped in amazement.

Maestro Pavel was sitting in the audience, talking to pianist Lim Jin-gyu.

Even the official, who usually remained composed, showed a different expression.

The on-site staff whispered subtly.

“Seems like they came to see that participant.”

“······Did you mention this to the judges?”

“No.”

This was a measure to ensure fairness.

The official nodded in satisfaction and turned to the employee, whose face was filled with disappointment.

“You don’t look well.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. Ha ha.”

“Since we’ve finished the inspection, you can return to the office. You can go home immediately. It’s the first day, so you shouldn’t be in poor condition.”

“Ah, yes. Then, sir...”

“I plan to watch the competition here.”

“···Yes?”

“Go on.”

The employee quickly changed his expression.

“Ah, no! Then I’ll watch too!”

The official chuckled.

“Sure.”

His lips curled slightly.

His gaze turned to the stage where someone would soon perform.

“I’m curious. This is my first time experiencing something like this.”

#

“Don’t be nervous! And... don’t be tense!”

My mother, who was fussing over my tuxedo, was repeating the same words.

Despite pretending not to, her nervousness was obvious.

I hadn’t seen her this excited since the college entrance exam before the regression.

Back then, I had casually answered and rushed to school...

“Don’t worry. I’ll do well. There’s another identity check inside, so I should go in now.”

My mother smiled and nodded.

“Okay, do well!”

“Sure!”

I smiled back.

My mother entered the Small Hall, where the competition was being prepared, and I went to the back stage after my participant card was checked at the end of the corridor.

Inside, my participant card was checked again, and after verifying my passport several times, I was finally led to the back of the stage.

It seemed everyone had eaten dinner, so the atmosphere was chaotic.

Since the previous performance was at 4:40 PM, I was the only participant.

I stood alone in the dark back stage, waiting to be called.

I recalled the pieces I would soon perform.

One piece by Bach.

Two Caprices by Paganini (practice pieces).

The sheet music I had memorized unfolded in my mind.

Every notation and annotation I had written, even the creases from overuse, were vividly recalled.

I etched the sheet music in my mind, as if drawing the bow in the air would produce a clear sound.

The voice calling me from outside was heard shortly after.

- Participant number 17, please prepare for your performance. Participant number 17, please prepare for your performance.

Called twice. The staff who had guided me waved me to go.

I took a deep breath and walked out.

The audience, which had been buzzing, fell silent, and I could hear my footsteps growing louder.

Suddenly, the view brightened.

I walked through the spotlight and stood at the taped spot.

My eyes adjusted to the relatively dark judges' area below.

Miniature flags were lined up on a long table, with masters from each country seated in front of them.

Unlike the chaotic staff inside, this area was as cold as ice. Despite the stifling heat, their hands and feet were cold.

Their expressions were relaxed, their eyes sharp, and their mouths tightly closed.

‘Interesting.’

I thought suddenly.

By the rules, the judges couldn’t speak, and neither could I.

Standing in a position to be judged solely by my performance, I slowly placed the violin under my chin and raised the bow.

The first piece to perform was,

Bach's Violin Sonata No. 3 BWV 1005.

The tempo is Adagio.

‘In other words, very slowly...’

Like giving up under the force of gravity.

I drew the bow across the strings.

------.

A series of sharp, staccato notes followed.

Without any embellishment, the repetitive and gradually ascending scales stripped the performer bare.

It required immense skill, but the effect was simple.

Thus, it was a piece that couldn’t be faked.

I didn’t think about not making mistakes.

Because if I did, it would become a performance that couldn’t be called a performance.

I focused on the steady ascent and emphasized the sharp, alert tone as much as possible. The addition of Paganini’s sound made the performance even more chilling.

“······”

After about 25 minutes of intense performance,

I, drenched in sweat, immediately moved on to the next piece.

Paganini’s Caprice No. 24, already famous to the public.

─!

The atmosphere changed abruptly.

The notes ascended and descended capriciously, with intricate techniques and absurd expressions scattered throughout.

No less than 11 variations.

The vibrations flowing into each joint of my hands mixed with stiffness, creating a strange pain.

‘Phew...’

I exhaled.

It was already hot. The judges’ icy gazes no longer affected my performance.

Since the night of the patron, I had grown another level.

A more mature technique suited my completed sound.

──!

Each time I overcame a difficult part, my muscles tingled.

Despite this, I was happy.

Was it the adrenaline? Unrefined emotions burst out.

Was I a freak?

This absurd thought briefly surfaced and then disappeared.

As the more intense performance brought more intense pain,

······I realized at the peak of excitement.

The pain that was a death signal in my previous life.

Now proved that I was performing.

#

Participant number 17.

If his performance of Bach’s sonata was like a perfectly structured building,

The following Paganini Caprice was like a wild, untamed horse.

It was full of vitality, as if standing at the end of life, completely free from death.

The violin masters from various countries could only look on in surprise and bewilderment.

‘Who is he?’

‘What is this participant?’

‘I’ve never heard of this name before?’

They were full of curiosity.

If not for the rule that they couldn’t speak to each other, they would have already been whispering among themselves.

Who is this performer?

What prodigy trained under which master?

But now, they couldn’t.

They could only decide whether to pass or fail with O or X.

Thus, they couldn’t know how each other viewed the current performance or what judgment they made.

But at this moment, all the judges had the same thought.

Despite their differing opinions,

This time, they would draw the same picture.