Chapter 57

057. Baynov Symphony (4)

Pavel recalled the first time he met Han Seoho.

It was when he went to the foundation to show his face.

Back then, he didn't even know that the boy was a stand-in for a movie and watched the performance, marveling at it repeatedly.

In Korea, where he came to see a child with astonishing compositional skills and piano talent, he thought he had discovered another monster.

But when he soon followed him and realized it was the same person, the shock was indescribable.

And from that moment on, he had already been waiting for this moment.

The anticipation was so intense that it was not an exaggeration to say he had been eagerly awaiting it.

Just as a Steinway, Bösendorfer, Guarneri, or Stradivarius can make a performer's heart race, a great performer can do the same for a conductor.

A living instrument that he wanted to play with his fingertips.

Since the boy was also considering a competition, Pavel recommended the summer. He envisioned a vague picture of them practicing together, possibly leading to the closing ceremony of the White Nights Festival, the grand finale stage.

He coveted the boy's performance that much, regardless of whether it was piano or violin.

And finally, the boy came here.

After achieving unprecedented results at the Tchaikovsky Competition.

“Haha...”

Pavel looked at the boy, Han Seoho.

He had added a piano to Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 2.

It wasn't a rearrangement. He simply added the piano to the original score.

‘He must be crazy.’

But if one thought it would be easier, they would be mistaken.

Considering the completeness of the piece, a rearrangement would be much easier. Other instruments could move and make space for the piano.

But he just added it, and it was so well done that even Pavel's experienced ears, having conducted countless pieces over the years, found no fault.

The piece was so full of melodies that opinions might vary, but it certainly couldn't be said to have ruined the original.

Moreover, to do it spontaneously.

He had thought the boy was a monster, but he didn't know he was this kind of monster...

Pavel let out a short, exasperated laugh and turned his gaze to the orchestra members.

In their varied expressions, he saw a similar emotion to when he first met Han Seoho.

At that moment, one of the members, Leto, looked at Pavel in disbelief.

“Maestro, did you perhaps tell him the piece in advance...?”

“Absolutely not.”

Pavel shook his head firmly in response.

It wasn't just Leto who had doubts; whispers of skepticism could be heard from various directions.

Han Seoho, who had been watching their reactions with a gleam in his eye, gave an awkward smile.

And then,

“Is this what the second symphony with added piano feels like? It's quite unique.”

A deep voice echoed from the entrance of the practice room.

Pavel turned his head sharply.

A rugged face and a physique that matched it perfectly.

The foundation's chairman and his older brother, Gregori Mamontov, stood at one side of the practice room.

Pavel waved his baton.

“Let's take a short break and continue.”

“What's going on?”

Pavel, who had come down from the podium and approached his brother, asked brusquely.

Regardless, Gregori was looking past Pavel.

Naturally, Pavel followed his gaze and saw Han Seoho, surrounded by the orchestra members, at the center of attention.

“I can see why you were so eager.”

Pavel's lips curled up slightly at the stiff acknowledgment. He then asked subtly,

“Then, can he be a guest at the White Nights Festival?”

After a brief moment of thought, Gregori, who had crossed his arms, replied.

“...It would be beneficial to the foundation in many ways.”

“Okay. No changing your mind, right?”

There was no response. Gregori, who seemed to find it unworthy of a response, turned his gaze from Han Seoho and said,

“Have you decided on a piece?”

“Not yet. Why? Is there a piece the organizers want?”

Gregori shook his head.

“No, there's no specific piece. But there is a performance they hope for.”

“Hmm?”

“They want to put Han Seoho on stage.”

“Great! We just decided to do that, didn't we?”

Pavel, snapping his fingers, chuckled.

Gregori, with an unchanged expression, replied,

“Yes. But they also hope for a solo performance.”

#

As soon as I heard the good news that I would be performing with the Baynov Symphony at the closing ceremony of the White Nights Festival...

‘And, how about adding another solo performance?’

Another piece of good news followed.

What do you think?

Of course, I have to. It's too good.

So I blurted out,

‘What instrument should I use?’

‘Your choice.’

‘What piece should I prepare?’

‘That's also up to you. Of course, time is limited, so something you know well... No, that would be a pointless worry for you. Haha!’

Pavel, laughing cheerfully.

My freedom...

I sat down at the piano, recalling yesterday's memories.

Hotel room. A grand piano, which seemed a bit small to be called a grand, was placed in the spacious living room.

It was the piano I had requested as soon as I received the Steinway artist appointment. Fortunately, it was a mini size, so it could be delivered quickly.

Reflecting on the benefits of being a Steinway artist, I opened the piano lid.

‘I did request to compose...’

After focusing on performances for a while, the desire to compose naturally arose.

But I didn't have any specific inspiration to express immediately, so my contemplation at the keyboard dragged on.

Then, I thought about going out to find inspiration.

Just like a certain musician once said, the streets are full of people, music, and stories, providing endless sources of inspiration.

‘Let's take a walk.’

I got up with a light heart.

The city of classical music, Moscow.

I headed to the city's streets, where inspiration might be scattered everywhere.

#

The streets were quiet.

But music was still richly heard.

The Tchaikovsky Competition had completely ended, but classical music still filled the streets of Moscow.

As if to prove that Russia is the land of Romanticism, the music of the Romantic era predominates.

Schubert, Wagner, Tchaikovsky, and so on...

I didn't have a specific destination in mind, but when I heard music I liked, I changed my direction and walked.

I ended up walking aimlessly. When the magnificent towers of the Kremlin Palace, which I had seen from a distance, became quite close, I noticed a crowd in what looked like a square.

And, as expected, music was flowing from there. The sound was heavy and deep, characteristic of a cello.

And it was a familiar piece.

Bach's Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude.

I set my direction and walked slowly.

The silhouette of the performer, hidden among the people, began to appear through the gaps.

I couldn't help but smile. An elderly man with white hair, wearing a suit and a top hat, was playing the cello.

His skill wasn't outstanding, but it was enjoyable.

Both the performer and the audience were smiling contentedly.

‘He's amazing.’

I watched him quietly.

Just as I thought about playing there myself, the elderly man finished his piece, took off his top hat, and bowed gracefully.

“Thank you.”

As everyone, including me, clapped, the elderly man continued with a childlike smile.

“Maybe because it's hot, there aren't many people on the streets today. I thought I might just play alone and go home, but it's really nice to have you stop and listen for a while.”

“It's been a long time since I've seen you!”

Perhaps he often performed on the streets, as a female student called out. She also had a violin case on her back.

The elderly man laughed.

“I haven't been feeling well for a while, so I took a break from street performances. But even when I felt better, practicing was a hassle. Then, my wife bought tickets to the Tchaikovsky Competition. I was very happy. My wife doesn't really like classical music, so we rarely go to concerts together. I think she did it to cheer me up.”

The elderly man, immersed in a gentle smile.

Even as his talk became longer instead of playing, the audience listened more intently.

“So, I went to the concert. Since the tickets were only a few hundred rubles, we went every day. My wife gradually started to enjoy it. Then, I saw something amazing. I've seen the Tchaikovsky Competition nine times, and this was the first time. The pianist I saw yesterday was playing the violin today.”

The elderly man added, hearing the audience's laughter.

“After that, I watched all of the performer's performances. My wife was the same. Even though it was the same classical music, she said every performance was different. In the end, the performer won the piano section of this competition.”

“He also came in second in the violin section!”

The female student's response made the elderly man nod.

“Yes, that's right. Seeing that, I suddenly wanted to play. It's a strange thing, isn't it? Normally, seeing such a genius should make one lose motivation, but I wanted to play. Anyway, while watching the performer play with the orchestra, I thought I couldn't play on such a grand stage with great people, but I have my own stage. So, I came back. Oh, I'm talking too much. I got carried away with the conversation...”

The elderly man's blue eyes, which I thought would naturally pass over, were fixed on me.

“Haha, just a lookalike, I guess?”

The elderly man's mutter, but it was picked up by the microphone and heard by everyone. The audience's gazes turned to me, and reactions started to come.

It's a lookalike, he said he's still in Moscow, maybe it's really him. Roughly those kinds of reactions.

It would be strange to deny it or run away like a star, so I just greeted him.

“Hello.”

Quite naturally, without feeling embarrassed as usual. Maybe I'm getting used to it.

The audience, who had been murmuring, became even more noisy.

Especially the elderly man, who stood up awkwardly.

“Is it really you?”

“It, it really seems to be him?”

There was no subject, but it was clear what they were talking about.

“Yes, it's me.”

At my answer, the elderly man's lips curled up. His smile was so innocent. But regardless, I glanced around and apologized.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your performance.”

My clumsy Russian, but it seemed to have improved, as the elderly man immediately understood and waved his hand.

“No, no! It's an honor. Listening to my performance... I'm... embarrassed.”

“No, you played very well.”

The elderly man, smiling innocently again, hesitated for a while before speaking.

“But, um... Mr. Performer. If it's not too much trouble, could I ask for one piece?”

The audience's reaction was intense. Some were already clapping.

“I don't have a violin right now...”

“I have one!”

The female student raised her hand and handed me the violin case she had been carrying on her shoulder.

Holding the violin, I decided not to refuse. I didn't want to refuse either. I was itching to play, as Pavel had said.

But I wanted this performance to be more meaningful.

Not me,

“Then, shall we play together?”

To this elderly man.

The elderly man, who was about to step aside, stopped.

“A duet...?”

“Yes, let's play together.”

The elderly man waved his hands.

“I don't know any pieces to play with the violin. I don't have the skill either.”

Despite his words, his feet were firmly planted on the ground.

I smiled and said,

“It's fine. Just play the cello solo as you were.”

Then, I stood next to the elderly man and lifted the violin.

“I'll add to it.”

#

Tap.

“Are you back?”

As I closed the door and entered the living room, my mother greeted me.

It was late at night in Korea, so my father, who had just finished work, was on the phone.

As I sat down at the piano, my mother quickly went into the room.

Feeling a bit guilty, I quickly moved my hands to not lose the inspiration I had today.

Sheet music. And a pen.

Very simple tools, but they are essential for composing.

I looked down at the keys and calmly organized my thoughts.

There was definitely a harvest.

I decided what to write.

And.

What piece to perform on the solo stage.

I slowly let the inspiration in my mind flow onto the keys.

───.

At that moment, the streets I walked today appeared before my eyes again.

Only the music that filled the streets had disappeared,

And my performance began to resonate.