Chapter 51

051. Final (3)

Leo Duboche's teacher.

Jean Oslor.

As he entered the concert hall, the renowned violinist, whose name is always mentioned when discussing the greatest violinists, began to draw attention. Some people even let out surprised voices.

However, Jean was also inwardly surprised.

By how nearly full the massive concert hall was.

And when he looked at the audience, he noticed that a significant number of them were relatively young.

‘They must be participants... Is it because it’s the final?’

He thought that those who didn’t make it to the final were watching with a sense of relief. But as Leo scanned the surroundings, he said:

“Quite a crowd again today. It seems even more than during the second round...”

“Was it like this during the second round?”

“Yes.”

“...I see.”

Jean had already seen and experienced countless competitions. His greatest achievement was winning the Queen Elisabeth Competition.

Thus, he knew very well how unusual this scene was.

‘I’m even more curious about what kind of performance they’ll show.’

Honestly, he wasn’t particularly interested until he got on the plane.

The boy who had reached the final with both instruments in an absurd situation, but still...

The growth his student showed in the second round was more important.

However, from the moment he realized the boy had a significant role in that growth...

And now, knowing that the boy’s performance could draw even other participants to the audience...

His curiosity was growing.

Soon, the voice calling the participants was heard.

People began to applaud.

Jean and Leo followed suit, clapping their hands.

Then, the boy appeared on stage, greeting the conductor.

He was too far away to see his face clearly.

All that could be discerned was the boy standing next to the conductor, placing his violin under his chin and raising his bow.

“It’s starting.”

“Yes.”

Jean glanced at his student, whose eyes were bright.

Satisfied with the sight, he smiled.

──!

The orchestra began to play.

Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto.

The melody played by the orchestra’s violins first caught the ear, followed by the strings and woodwinds.

The boy slowly raised his bow, waiting for his turn in the concerto.

The moment the orchestra’s tutti (full ensemble) faded, the boy’s violin entered with a significant presence.

Jean sighed in admiration.

A new, indescribable sound.

Even behind the massive wave of the orchestra, the boy’s sound stood out meaningfully.

The melodies he created were piercingly beautiful and sharp, keeping the audience in constant tension.

At the same time, he showed a harmonious side, connecting the movements organically.

With his unique sound, stable technique, and excellent storytelling, his performance style naturally emerged.

It was European in style, but...

‘Strange.’

Jean frowned.

And he became curious.

‘Just who did he learn from...?’

The surprises continued, and before he knew it, the performance was nearing its end.

Moving from the beauty of the first movement and the calm of the second, the boy’s bow entered the thrilling third movement, leaping tirelessly over the strings.

The difficulty of the piece, which even Tchaikovsky struggled to find a performer for, was evident.

The performance swept through the themes of each movement, either faithfully or with variations, leading to the climax.

The rising violin, supported by the orchestra.

Finally, the coda (conclusion)!

Jean found himself clenching his fist. He took a deep breath, looking around the hall filled with applause.

“What do you think?”

His student asked.

Jean spoke honestly.

“Excellent. Your technique is still less mature than his, but it’s sufficiently stable, and the sound is truly unique. And the expressiveness...”

Worried that his student might be hurt, Jean glanced at him.

But he chuckled.

His student’s face showed no jealousy.

Instead, it was a face that seemed to expect disappointment if he said it was just okay.

“Perfect.”

“Right!?”

“...Yes.”

Turning his gaze from his delighted student, he looked at the boy receiving a bouquet and leaving the stage, with a puzzled expression.

“...”

One strange point in the perfect performance.

It was too abstract to tell his student, but...

From the boy’s performance...

He felt a European atmosphere even older than his own teacher’s.

#

...After the performance.

I descended the stage, pushing through the intense gazes of the maestros watching me.

Stopping halfway down the stairs, I took a deep breath.

As I exhaled, the heartbeat became more noticeable.

“Amazing!”

At the bottom of the stairs, a staff member greeted me. Now that the final was over, he felt free to talk. Listening to his chatter, I responded and walked out of the backstage.

Once in the corridor, I began to walk alone.

Only then did I reflect on my performance.

The scene from the stage, looking down at the audience, was unforgettable.

It was my first time on such a large stage, and the applause from so many people...

It was the same as the applause I saw in Mannheim for Haydn.

Seeing that, I realized that the moment I dreamed of standing on stage had come true today.

...After 200 years.

As if traveling through time, I walked down the long corridor and stepped outside.

I headed to the lobby with a wide smile.

In the distance, I saw my family.

#

“Just as everyone expected...”

Tap tap.

“No, even better than expected...”

Tap tap.

“...it opened the final.”

Clack.

After typing the last sentence, Choe Sung-ryeong crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

She scanned the article she had written, feeling a bit disappointed.

The article was satisfying, but...

“Disappointing, isn’t it?”

The café owner brought a slice of cake and spoke slowly in English.

Choe Sung-ryeong chuckled.

“How did you know?”

“We feel this disappointment every four years.”

The café owner’s gaze turned to the window.

Classical music flowed from various places, and people carrying instruments on their backs were not uncommon.

“It’s almost the end of the competition, Miss Reporter.”

“...Yes.”

“Oh, and look at this. Thanks to you, I got thousands of likes for the first time by taking a photo with Han Se-ho.”

“Wow, Se-ho is really popular.”

Choe Sung-ryeong’s exclamation made the café owner nod.

“He’ll become even more famous. Watching the growth of a performer who has gone through the Tchaikovsky Competition and waiting for the next competition is a joy for us who watch this big festival every four years around the conservatory.”

Choe Sung-ryeong placed her hand on her laptop, signaling to continue the conversation.

“Oh, are you interviewing me?”

“Yes, it sounds interesting.”

“I think so too, but... what should I talk about?”

“Anything you’ve observed here.”

After a moment’s thought, the café owner began to speak.

“Well... a long time ago, Sergei Bodrov came to the shop.”

“That genius cellist, Sergei!?”

“Yes. One day, he came after the main rounds and cried his eyes out...”

Listening to her story, Choe Sung-ryeong thought.

At the next competition, would this café owner tell a similar story to another reporter?

That Han Se-ho had been here.

He had taken a photo with a very awkward expression and blushed at the mention of being famous.

And...

...that he was now performing on the world stage.

Time passed.

<Han Se-ho’s Perfect Stage Marking the Start of the Final!>

<Another Audience for the Tchaikovsky Competition: Citizens of Moscow>

...The festival’s heat reached its peak.

<Leo Duboche, the French Hope, Delivers a Stunning Final Performance!>

<Overseas Critics Engage in Heated Debate on Violin Winner via SNS>

...People seemed to be even more enthusiastic, as if trying to forget their disappointment.

<Kim Se-jin’s Performance Unveiled!>

<Famous American Critic Praises, “Mad Technique, Like Chopin Has Come Back to Life.”>

...And finally.

<Han Se-ho, Who Opened the Stage with Violin, Closes with Piano Today!>

The competition reached its final day.

During the extended intermission, Choe Sung-ryeong, who had been writing articles in a café, closed her laptop.

She headed to the Great Hall, checking the article she had just posted.

Moscow’s summer was hot.

The sun stayed up 4-5 hours longer than usual, and with no wind due to its inland location, the perceived temperature was even higher.

And in late June, the height of summer.

The 1,700-seat hall, which lacked air conditioning, was almost full.

The vastness of the space did nothing to help the heat.

Just sitting there made one feel hot.

The only fortunate thing was that there was a separate area for journalists, so they didn’t sweat profusely.

A colleague, fanning herself with a file, scanned the audience and sighed.

“It’s really sweltering in there. But so many people came.”

“Yeah. They must all want to see Han Se-ho’s performance.”

“According to a Russian reporter, Maestro Pavel, violinist Jean, professors from the Tchaikovsky Conservatory, and scouts from world-renowned instrument brands are all sitting there.”

Hearing this, Choe Sung-ryeong looked up.

She naturally scanned the audience, and her gaze stopped just behind the judges.

“There...”

“Russian high officials.”

“Oh.”

Choe Sung-ryeong nodded and quickly looked back at the stage, afraid of making eye contact.

“...Anyway, it feels more grandiose today, even though it’s been held here since the first round.”

“Right? I felt the same. Maybe it’s the halo effect of the final.”

Out of the hundreds of people who received recommendations from international musicians worldwide, only 200 made it to the main rounds in Russia. And only 34 made it to the final.

How significant this was.

“Really, it does.”

She waited for the final performance, thinking.

The stage and orchestra seemed even larger.

Soon, Han Se-ho appeared on stage amid thunderous applause.

It might be the halo effect, but...

He seemed a bit bigger now.

#

Competition creates envy, and envy corrupts music.

When the rumor that Salieri killed Mozart reached Baden-Baden, I had this thought.

Whether Salieri really envied and killed Mozart, or someone envied Salieri and spread the rumor, the truth is unknown...

But it all stemmed from envy.

So, I had a vague aversion to competition.

Moreover, seeing participants who didn’t win despite their best performances, I thought, “As expected, competition corrupts music.”

...I realized this might be a judgment error years later, at my second competition.

In the past, those who didn’t make it were still challenging. They had grown more than before and finally achieved their desired results.

Seeing this, I changed my mind.

And now...

I genuinely enjoy the competition.

I prepare for my performance and watch others. It doesn’t matter if their level is high or low.

Inspiration doesn’t come only from the best.

When it’s my turn, I perform happily and learn something from others’ performances.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was the final.

“...”

My last performance,

Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 2.

I prepared while listening to the orchestra’s tutti (full ensemble).

I was ready to take over the grandeur they had built.

─!

Even after the main performance began, this structure didn’t change.

──!

When I played passionately,

──!

The orchestra followed.

Sometimes, the orchestra led, and I followed, like a table tennis rally.

I really liked this format throughout the piece.

It felt like the moments when I was inspired by other participants were expressed.

With this thought, I always had one wish.

If my performance inspired someone...

‘It would be really nice.’

Of course, I don’t know.

If my performance ever inspired someone, even a little.

But now.

I knew one thing.

...This is what a real competition is.

#

An hour later.

Choe Sung-ryeong, after taking a break outside with her colleagues, returned to the conservatory.

It was late at night, even the white nights had fallen asleep.

Yet, many people were still waiting at the conservatory for the results.

“Miss Reporter.”

Turning at the call, she saw Han Se-ho in civilian clothes.

He waved, and a nearby audience member approached to request a photo.

Han Se-ho, moving like a wooden doll, took the photo.

Seeing this, she chuckled.

“You’re quite popular, huh?”

“Haha...”

Han Se-ho’s awkward laugh made Choe Sung-ryeong wonder how such a boy could perform so passionately on stage.

Especially his ability to stand out confidently in the orchestra’s accompaniment was like that of a born musician.

As she continued to think, the door opened unexpectedly, and the chairman of the Tchaikovsky Competition committee appeared.

Flashes went off everywhere. Choe Sung-ryeong stopped her thoughts and quickly took a photo.

The chairman slowly approached the journalists and participants.

The flashes gradually subsided, and the murmurs quieted down.

The chairman stood in front of the microphone with a gentle smile.

Everyone’s attention was focused on him.

Specifically, on the paper in his hand.