Chapter 96

096. The Largest Instrument (3)

<Brunner Friedrich 1773—1815>

A count in the Grand Duchy of Baden.

He began to make a name for himself in the music world by supporting Haydn and Mozart. Later, he became a staunch patron of the masters, to the extent that he was called the 'Prophet of Music.'

However, he did not only support the masters. Although there are not many accurate records, it is known from the records of not-so-famous musicians that he did not withhold support from anyone who made music.

Unlike the usual nobles who sponsored to receive dedications from famous composers or to show off, the reason why he expanded his patronage so widely is still not clearly known...

<Outside of Classical Music 中>

#

“Have you heard the news?”

At the Monthly Audience office.

A junior reporter who had gone out to cover a story returned, looking like Michelin.

Seeing the junior reporter approaching in a white long down jacket, Chae Sung-ryeong let out a hollow laugh and asked.

“What news?”

“SJ just made an official announcement. You know that special free New Year’s concert with Han Seo-ho, right? Do you know who the conductor is?”

A colleague reporter, who had been hunched over, squeezing out an article, suddenly raised his head.

“What? What, surely not Han Seo-ho conducting!?”

“No, no. Han Seo-ho is performing.”

The junior reporter mimicked pressing the keys and holding the bow with both hands.

Watching this, Chae Sung-ryeong tilted her head.

“...Then? Who’s conducting?”

“Albert.”

Chae Sung-ryeong’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Al...bert...what?”

“Albert. Albert August! From the New York Philharmonic...!”

“No, it’s not that I don’t know him. It’s just hard to believe. Suddenly Albert?”

“Wow, so that’s why he’s on vacation in Korea?”

“It wasn’t a vacation in the first place.”

Her colleague reporter chuckled.

“The internet is going crazy right now.”

“Sure it is.”

She quickly typed on the keyboard. Just typing Han Seo-ho’s name brought up Albert in the related search terms. Add to that the SJ free concert.

The timing and lineup were perfectly set.

A free concert to welcome the New Year, with Han Seo-ho and Albert.

And at the large Olympic Gymnastics Arena.

Given the limitations of the 'classical' genre, it was a performance of a scale rarely seen in Korea.

That must mean they’re very confident.

With this combination.

“Well, if I were in their shoes, I’d be confident too.”

Chae Sung-ryeong let out a hollow laugh and opened a document program.

Her fingers, which had been typing, paused for a moment.

As she wrote the article, a growing sense of anticipation finally hit her.

“I wonder how many people will gather for this...”

#

- This concert is part of SJ Entertainment's cultural and arts initiative, offering a free opportunity to enjoy domestic opera and classical music to welcome the New Year.

Recently, interest in classical music and cultural arts has increased, and the entrance to the Olympic Park is now crowded with people coming to watch the performance.

Admission is on a first-come, first-served basis, and it remains to be seen how many of the 15,000 seats in the gymnastics arena will be filled...

Yoon Tae-hwan’s wife approached her friends, glancing at the camera and announcer from the broadcasting station.

The number of people heading towards the gymnastics arena was so large that even standing still felt like swimming against a current.

“They said it would be big... but it really is. I didn’t expect so many people.”

“It’s said to be the largest free concert ever. Is there any profit in this?”

“Are you worried about SJ Entertainment now?”

“Well, I am. I’m worried about a big company.”

“And it’s doable, right? The main act is Han Seo-ho.”

“And your husband is performing with such a Han Seo-ho, so it’s doable.”

Her friends couldn’t hide their smiles of approval.

One of the friends, who had been chuckling, looked around at the congested road and asked.

“By the way, when are your parents coming?”

“They’re nearby. They’re taking a taxi, but it seems to be stuck in traffic.”

“Are all these cars here for the concert? What about your husband’s parents?”

“They’re coming together. They’re close... Oh, there they are.”

A taxi stopped at the entrance. Confirming the people getting out, the wife hurried over.

“You’re here? These are my friends.”

“Oh, oh. Thank you for coming.”

“Goodness, the traffic is terrible.”

“Where’s Tae-hwan?”

“He’s inside, preparing. It seems to be a huge stage today. Can you see the crowd?”

“...Indeed.”

Seeing the dazed expressions of her in-laws, the wife and her mother-in-law tried to boost their spirits.

“It’s several times bigger than the places we used to visit.”

“That’s true. Several times bigger. Back then, there were fewer than 300 people. It could be dozens of times bigger.”

“Really? Wow, my son-in-law is doing well~!”

#

After the rehearsal was over.

Yoon Tae-hwan followed me to my dressing room instead of going to his own.

When I asked what was wrong, he handed me a bundle of papers in a transparent file. It was a support project proposal.

I smiled slyly.

“I thought I lost this~.”

“Ha, yes. I found it and brought it back.”

Taking the bundle, I looked at Yoon Tae-hwan closely.

Getting it back is one thing. I was curious about how he did it.

Finally, he answered.

“I supported it.”

I smiled. I didn’t say it was a good move in a blindly optimistic way. Instead, I nodded.

“You’ll do well.”

I can be certain of that.

“Yes. It’s the last chance in my music career. I’ll do my best.”

“You were a good hornist.”

“Ha ha. Thank you.”

“You were, before preparing for this concert. But now... don’t you feel the difference? How much you’ve changed.”

“...Yes.”

To quote Kang Joon-seo, Albert was a catalyst for evolution. I could see the performers changing dramatically under his guidance.

The most representative was Shin Su-a, and Yoon Tae-hwan was one of them.

Now, Yoon Tae-hwan, who has become more than just good, a truly excellent hornist, looks at me with wide eyes.

He still has room to grow. So, with stable support and opportunities, he can fully dedicate himself to music.

Of course, with his family.

...I turned and entered the dressing room.

Sitting on the sofa, I looked at the clock.

“Hmm.”

There was plenty of time. The admission had just started, and there was a quartet and a vocal performance.

We were the last act of the concert, after everything was over.

Rustle—.

While waiting for my turn, I skimmed through the score for today’s performance.

The cheers and applause that occasionally echoed made me realize it had been a long time since I performed live after New York.

My heart was racing. I tried to guard against the excitement that was starting to build. The first piece was a solo, Familie (Family), so I kept going over the score to steady my emotions, like an actor preparing for a role.

At that moment, Albert knocked on the dressing room door, introducing himself.

If I was concentrating, I’m sorry.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I have a question before the performance.”

I nodded as he sat across from me.

“Yes, please go ahead.”

“This will be the last question for now.”

He emphasized 'for now.' I smiled, remembering he had said he wanted to conduct the next album.

Albert, who was smiling back, asked the reason for his question first.

“As a conductor, I want to point in the same direction as the composer.”

And.

He asks me, the composer.

“What will you think of while performing today?”

#

...Dozens of footsteps pass through the dressing room.

The performers, not bound to an orchestra, are all freelancers. But today, they gathered to perform my piece.

I arrived at the backstage first and saw Albert talking to the performers.

Like a soccer coach before a match, he was giving them final instructions.

‘What will you think of while performing today?’

I remember the question he asked me in the dressing room.

And my answer.

‘...I will think of the score.’

Was it too nihilistic an answer?

I can picture Albert’s hollow laugh.

Just then, the quartet that had just given a brilliant performance came off the stage.

A staff member signaled that it was our turn, and the performers went up on stage one by one. When Albert took his first step onto the stage, the audience erupted in the loudest cheers of the day.

And finally, I climbed the stairs.

...The first act was my solo.

Yet, the orchestra was already on stage, holding their positions. This was because the concert’s main focus was the collaboration between SJ Entertainment and the performers, and to smoothly transition into the next piece, 'Family.'

Under the spotlight, I prepared to perform.

I stood in front of the piano and raised the violin to my shoulder.

The audience, who had been clapping as if it would never end, finally stopped.

And when the orchestra, which had been tuning in the silence, finally fell silent.

I began to play the violin.

—!

A melody as thin as a thread was drawn out.

Behind it, short phrases followed, creating a large motif.

A slight thrill stirred in the calm emotion.

I could feel my technique had advanced to a new level.

The elementary techniques that didn’t match Paganini’s sound were now making significant progress.

Then, at this moment.

What should the emotion be?

I must turn around. And run.

Back to the past, to a more distant past.

This piece is made of memories from that time.

I recall the score, as I told Albert.

But not the typical score with notes on the staff.

A page from the past, with the memories and emotions of that time intricately embedded.

...And in that score.

Boom—!

I see the heavy coffin being pushed into the grave.

I look down at the coffin with the family crest.

Mother is sobbing. I hold her hand.

These moments flicker before my eyes.

“...”

On the opposite side, I see Haydn.

And the orchestra that came with him prepares to play.

Finally, as the coffin is placed in the ground, Haydn begins to play.

His largest instrument plays different sounds.

A funeral march.

A sad yet grand melody that concludes a person’s life is placed on the coffin, which is not yet covered with soil.

———!

Everyone’s sorrow is also placed on it.

———!

Cold soil is spread over it.

Thus, the coffin disappears from sight.

I must send off my father, who lies there, while sitting.

“...”

I said nothing.

There are no lyrics in the score.

#

Brunner asked.

Father.

Are you in the ground now?

Or are you already in heaven?

If not, ...

“Il Perso.”

“Yes.”

At the short call, the man who was holding the wheelchair from behind came to his side.

Brunner’s gaze was on the tombstone placed on the cold mound of soil.

There, the last letter left by his father was engraved.

“If a person can be reborn after death, when would it be? Immediately? Or after a few years? A few decades?”

“That... no one can know.”

“True. We don’t know. But Father was someone who always kept his word, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. Yes, he always kept his word. Definitely.”

It was a satisfying answer.

And it was enough for me to make a decision.

“Il Perso.”

“Yes.”

“I want to support musicians.”

“You’re already doing that.”

“I need to support more musicians. Regardless of age, nationality, or status. As many as possible.”

I didn’t say why.

Il Perso didn’t ask.

We just looked at the tombstone.

“Now you are a count.”

It was a sad declaration, without any preparation.

“Do as you wish.”