The concertmaster nodded briefly, and the principal oboe player blew a long ‘A’ note.
While the members were busy tuning their instruments to the oboe, the concertmaster adjusted their pitches with a sharp gaze.
Considering the conductor’s preference, the concertmaster gestured for the members to play slightly higher than the reference note.
Dozens of instruments produced sounds that seemed like bizarre screams, but they quickly harmonized into a unified tone.
The concertmaster walked towards the first violins and instructed the string section members. From indicating when to use downbows or upbows, he oversaw all technical aspects of the string section.
He preferred to communicate with gestures rather than words, so the string section members were always focused on reading his detailed coaching during performances.
The Russian concertmaster, Dmitri, was as strict as his cold gaze suggested, earning the nickname “cold-blooded” in the London Symphony. However, even such a cold-blooded person showed respect to one individual at the London Symphony.
Thud.
As a gray-haired middle-aged man walked in, the orchestra members stood up in unison.
To be part of the London Symphony, one must have exceptional musical pride and skill. Yet, the members looked as tense as children being disciplined. Dmitri walked forward and shook the conductor’s hand courteously.
It was a rehearsal with no audience, but the tension and silence were palpable.
As the middle-aged conductor glanced around, the members sat down in unison.
At that moment, the conductor’s left hand swept the room, and the baton in his right hand swiftly sliced through the air.
Boom!
Dozens of instruments began to play in unison, matching the thin, delicate movements of the baton.
Following the baton’s instructions on tempo, rhythm, and melody direction, the members moved in perfect harmony.
As the intense movements of the baton continued, it felt like a series of thunderous melodies.
Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, 1st Movement.
The members’ tempo couldn’t always be perfect, especially in the Symphony No. 5, where three eighth notes must be played precisely after a short eighth rest.
The members, as tense as if they were in the middle of a battlefield, had to focus intently on the conductor’s baton.
Crunch.
At that moment, the conductor’s left hand crossed the air and clenched into a fist.
“Horn!”
The assistant principal horn player, holding a shiny golden horn, straightened his back as he caught the conductor’s gaze.
As always, the conductor didn’t immediately point out the mistake. He just looked at him with a dry gaze that pierced through.
Again.
As the conductor raised his hand, the sharp melody of Symphony No. 5 resounded once more.
“Dmitri. If there’s a suitable assistant principal horn player, bring them in.”
The chief conductor of the London Symphony, Spencer, had a stern look on his face.
It wasn’t often that the orchestra members could gather for practice, but the horn player kept making mistakes today.
He was more upset about the unclean sound than the wrong pitch. The player probably drank too much the night before.
Dmitri, known as a cold-blooded person among the members, nodded silently.
Though Dmitri was a world-renowned violinist, he respected the conductor Spencer more than anyone.
No violinist could avoid admiring Spencer, who was once hailed as a prodigy.
Spencer had been the chief conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra for decades.
His reputation as a conductor was as impressive as his days as a violinist, earning him a knighthood from the British royal family. The London Symphony also wished to keep him on a lifetime contract.
The members were well aware of his perfectionist tendencies. Despite their significant musical pride, they had to yield before Spencer.
Because of this, they felt uneasy when Spencer remained silent.
There is no such thing as perfect music in this world.
“Maestro.”
At that moment, Dmitri cautiously handed the phone to Spencer. Spencer took it with a curious look.
-My old friend, Spencer. How have you been?
A familiar voice was heard. The face was unmistakable.
“Why are you calling at this late hour?”
-Haha. Isn’t it too harsh for an old friend’s call? By the way, I’m in Korea right now.
“Korea?”
Spencer thought for a moment and then remembered where Korea was. His elder brother had served as a navy officer in the Korean War, so it was an unforgettable country.
“Why has the Crown Prince, who should be looking after his people, gone there?”
-Don’t call me Crown Prince; it’s embarrassing. Guess who I met in Korea? You’d be surprised.
Who could he know in Korea to say such things? But Samuel’s following words made Spencer furrow his brow.
“A prodigy?”
-Yes, a prodigy. I’ve never seen a child play the violin like that. It was like watching you in your prime!
“You’re getting senile with age. Stop talking nonsense; I’m still going strong.”
It was hard to imagine anyone speaking so bluntly to a crown prince. Dmitri had already stepped away.
“I don’t believe in prodigies. All the prodigies died with Mozart.”
Spencer’s theory was that talent alone is not enough without effort.
He himself had been hailed as a prodigy, but it was his relentless effort that made it possible. Those who called him a prodigy were essentially insulting him.
“I have to go now, so I’ll hang up.”
Samuel’s voice was heard from the receiver, but Spencer hung up unilaterally.
There wasn’t enough time even to stay up all night practicing. As time was not infinite, Spencer felt even more urgent. He always pursued perfection.
“Prodigy, my foot.”
Looking at the receiver he had put down, Spencer grabbed his baton.
Bzzz.
Park Sun-young wore an enraptured expression. How could such music be expressed with just a violin melody?
Like painting on a blank canvas, this young boy absorbed music. Park Sun-young was astounded by the endless capacity and limitless potential.
Thump thump thump.
As the bow tip soared into the air, her heart raced wildly. It felt like running a marathon, with adrenaline pumping endlessly in her mind.
Did I like the violin this much? Why didn’t I realize it in my past life? Many questions arose, but what did it matter?
Bzzz.
As long as I’m enjoying it now.
It had already been a month since I started private music lessons in the grand mansion in Pyeongchang-dong.
In my past life, I had only briefly learned it, but now it felt like recalling something I had known before, learning musical knowledge rapidly. The speed was so fast that both Park Sun-young and I were amazed.
“Oppa, play one more song!”
Son Yooha had already become my ardent fan. Whenever I played the violin, she would perk up her ears like a rabbit and gaze at me with endless admiration. Sometimes, her intense gaze was overwhelming.
Even now, she clung to me like a cicada on an old tree, sitting closely beside me.
“But Hyun, is it true that you’ll go back to the countryside after the summer vacation ends?”
Park Sun-young looked at me with a regretful gaze. No wonder, as she had never poured so much passion into teaching someone before.
Sometimes she felt inferior to Kang Hyun’s talent, but more often, she was amazed by his genius.
“Heeing. Oppa, don’t go.”
Son Yooha also wore a sad expression. Even though I wasn’t leaving immediately, she clutched my sleeve tightly. It looked like a reunion of separated families.
I felt awkward under the endless gazes of the two women.
“I’m not sure yet.”
At that moment, both Park Sun-young and Son Yooha’s expressions brightened.
A life completely different from my past, changing by 180 degrees. Even seeing how my grandfather had changed made the future unpredictable.
Son Yooha opened her eyes wide and parted her cherry-like lips.
“Oppa, then you’re not going?”
“Hmm.”
Knock knock.
At that moment, there was a knock.
“Kang Hyun, the car has arrived.”
Nice timing! Thanks to the appearance of the driver, Mr. Kim, I could avoid giving a direct answer.
“Isn’t it boring to be called here by your grandpa every day?”
“No, I’m so happy to be with you, Grandpa.”
Grandpa smiled kindly. We had arrived at Dongju Chemical.
After the music class in Pyeongchang-dong, Grandpa would take me to his office instead of the mansion in Ichon-dong, showing me his daily work.
“Hyun, do you like music?”
Grandpa seemed to be deep in thought. His grandson’s musical talent was extraordinary.
His talent had far surpassed the level of a social hobby. Especially the violin performance at the banquet was so impressive that it was still vividly remembered.
Considering his talent, it was only natural to support his music career, but thinking about the future of Dongju, someone like Hyun was essential.
“Your mother seems to have a lot of worries.”
Grandpa was considering having my mother participate in management. She was the smartest and wisest of his children.
It would be possible to nurture her abilities to lead Dongju during his remaining lifetime. None of his other children were fit for the role.
“If all else fails, you could always rely on a professional.”
Grandpa’s eyes widened. His young grandson had grasped his words immediately.
I thought of the method of appointing a professional manager. Of course, this was only possible because Grandpa’s disposition had changed.
“Hyun, you really know how to scratch where it itches.”
Grandpa had been troubled these past few days because of my youngest uncle. The company had seen prosecutors come and go because of his petty thefts.
Luckily, Grandpa had caught on early. Without his intervention, would my incompetent uncles have noticed? Not likely; the company’s finances would have been slowly drained.
Knock knock.
At that moment, an unexpected person entered the chairman’s office.
“Ah, Director Jeon, you’re here.”
Grandpa greeted the executive known as Director Jeon. He was in charge of a significant role related to new material development. But no matter how much I looked at him, his slick face seemed familiar.
Director Jeon glanced at me briefly and then bowed to Grandpa. He seemed aware of my frequent presence in the office recently.
‘Where have I seen him before?’
This feeling of familiarity with Director Jeon wasn’t new. At first, I thought it was because he was one of my youngest uncle’s subordinates, but with time, my suspicion turned into certainty.
I definitely had a connection with this man. In my past life, that is.
It was like an itch in my head, like an ant crawling around.
‘Ah!’
Suddenly, a scene flashed through my mind. It was during my early days as a prosecutor.
‘Jeon Han-yong.’
I had met him in the interrogation room. Back then, I was too inexperienced to lead the investigation, but I had watched from the sidelines. His case name was the same as his childhood alias, which perfectly matched his crimes.
“Jeon Wanyong.”
