“You old geezer, are you planning to die tomorrow?” Chairman Wang joked as he picked up a black stone.
“What are you going to do leaving such a massive fortune to Hyun already? Someone might think you’re evading taxes. Plus, you’ve bought all the stocks I mentioned.”
“It’s a legal gift, so don’t worry.”
“Still, isn’t it too much for a child?”
It seemed almost excessive, even considering a grandfather’s love for his youngest grandchild. Although he hadn’t inherited Dongju Chemical’s management rights, all the lucrative assets, including stocks and real estate, were under Kang Hyun’s name.
“How much longer do we think we have left to live?”
At that moment, Chairman Yoo placed a white stone on the Go board and looked up.
“When I die, it will become Beomjin and Beomkyung’s world. I’ll be grateful if they don’t ruin Dongju, which has been like my second self for decades.”
“It’s an undeniable fact. Your two sons are as much of a headache as my third son.”
“But you have Ilsung, don’t you?”
“Then you have Kang as well. That fellow shows promise with a little nurturing.”
Click, the stones continued to fill the Go board.
“Kang is fundamentally smart and diligent, but he’s not cunning. I realized over time that he has the temperament of a scholar rather than a businessman. He’s too upright by nature. But Hyun is different.”
“Different?”
“Yes, it’s not that he’s quick and smart. Sometimes I am shocked by the look in Hyun’s eyes. It’s like he has eyes that don’t match his age. Sometimes they are innocent like a child’s, and at other times they are sharp like an old veteran who has seen it all. The scariest thing? The determination that occasionally flickers in his eyes makes people tense.”
“Determination?”
“Think back to when you first came down from the North.”
Even though it was decades ago, those days were as vivid as yesterday. When he first came down from the North, he established Jeil Sanghoe in Seoul. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that there were countless hardships before the Daeil Group came to be.
Chairman Yoo, who had watched and grown alongside him, probably knew Chairman Wang better than his late wife.
“The same determination you had back then is in Hyun.”
Now he understood. The determination Son Jangwon had when he came down from the North and started a fire in the war-torn Seoul.
“It’s ambition.” Click―!
“Hyun, would you like to learn composition?”
It was an unexpected suggestion. I had only focused on playing the violin and had no interest in composition.
My musical talent, which was never evident in my past life, was the reason I could arrange “Rendezvous.” It was only possible because I already knew the piece.
Can I actually compose?
“And we need to register ‘Rendezvous’ as a joint composition. Of course, the arrangement is solely your work.”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you so surprised? Receiving copyright fees is better than getting paid for arranging. After all, I am quite popular.”
Suddenly, thoughts of huge copyright fees flashed through my mind.
Like how tigers leave their skins when they die, singers leave their masterpieces.
For example, hit trot songs from the 80s still earn tens of millions in copyright fees every year, even after decades.
How much more for the world-renowned albums? Especially since “Rendezvous” will be considered a masterpiece of the century in the future.
Gulp―!
My throat bobbed involuntarily.
“Your arranging skills are already top-notch. You’ve found parts I hadn’t even thought of and fixed them perfectly. Honestly, I was surprised. I never thought you would make changes so freely with a red pen. At that moment, I thought the saying that Mozart has reincarnated might not be a lie. But really, have you never composed a song before?”
When I nodded briefly, Michel continued with a hint of regret.
“Composition is essentially a creative process. You need to harmonize rhythm, melody, and harmony. As you know, popular music and classical music follow different paths. I thought you were specialized in classical music. But seeing you quickly correct ‘Rendezvous’ made me think differently.”
Michel’s flattery was overwhelming. On the other hand, I was worried. I feared I wouldn’t meet such high expectations.
“Before studying composition, you need to decide what genre of music you want to create. It could be traditional music from your homeland, jazz, or even pop music. But classical music would suit you best.”
Choosing a field was crucial. It was something I had realized in my past life. Even prosecutors are not all the same.
The saying goes not to chase two hares at once. Choice and focus were just as important. The world of music would be no different.
But why? Just listening to Michel’s explanation made my heart race, like when I first played the violin.
“Wouldn’t the most beautiful music be created when you transcend those boundaries?” I wanted to sing everything.
Michel smiled, as if he had expected my answer.
Early in the morning, I received a call from Korea. It was good news related to the Graphene experiment. Though it was just a small clue obtained after countless experiments, my father’s excited voice came through the receiver without filtering.
Mother seemed unaware of the significance of new material development. She probably couldn’t grasp how monumental the first step was.
I wanted to shout right away. Mother, the first button to saving Dongju has been fastened!
“Hyun, is something good happening?”
It was Isaac, who had become quite close to me. Now comfortable with me, he would visit almost daily to ask questions.
Today was no different. Wearing shabby clothes and holding a worn-out violin, he came to me.
“Isaac, today is the day Moses removes his finger bandage and plays his own piece. How should he position himself?”
Isaac furrowed his brow in thought before taking a position.
As the saying goes, a promising tree shows its quality from its leaves. He was trying to make the violin posture his own, even though he had only been taught it a short while ago, considering the extent of his finger injury.
“Oh, you’re doing better than I thought?”
“I practiced all night!”
“Still, it would be better to bend your index and ring fingers a bit more. And lower your left shoulder slightly.”
Isaac pouted for a moment.
“But this is already excellent.”
“Really?”
A smile spread across his face at my words.
“But Isaac, there seem to be more cameras than usual today?”
“Well, from today…”
“We’re starting to shoot the making film, Hyun.”
Suddenly, Jean-Pierre appeared and finished Isaac’s sentence. Isaac nodded repeatedly as if he had just remembered.
So, it’s a making film, a video documenting the filming process. No wonder the 6mm camera was roaming around the set.
“Director, do you always shoot a making film during movie productions?”
“No. The term ‘making film’ didn’t even exist initially. It started with journalists secretly filming movie sets, and a few years ago, Hollywood began professionally shooting these making videos. They’re good for movie promotions and can be seen as a token of appreciation for the fans.”
As if to prove Jean-Pierre’s words, the camera captured the main and supporting cast in sequence, from reading scripts to taking breaks. It was close to a documentary.
“It wasn’t originally planned, but this making film was hastily decided for you, Hyun.”
“For me?”
“I thought it would be more meaningful to capture you playing the violin on video rather than just leaving it as sound.”
Jean-Pierre smiled faintly. In his words, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.
“By the way, Hyun, what’s that in your hand? You’ve been doing something with it for a while.”
Isaac looked at the sheet music in my hand with curiosity.
It was the sheet music incorporating the basics of composition I had learned at Michel’s studio recently. It was still a skill too embarrassing to show.
But Isaac stared at it persistently.
“Sheet music?”
Seeing the notes drawn on the staff, Isaac looked puzzled.
“It’s just an original composition.”
At the mention of an original composition, Jean-Pierre quickly turned to look at me. The burdensome stares from both sides were rather overwhelming. It was just a few sheets of sheet music, after all.
“Hyun, can you play it for us?”
“It’s still an incomplete piece. I made it in a hurry.”
“How do you roast beans with lightning?”
Never mind. I wrote the sheet music the night I learned the basics of composition from Michel, inspired by a sudden burst of creativity. Unfortunately, I couldn’t complete it. But Isaac and even Jean-Pierre couldn’t take their eyes off the sheet music.
“Hyun, do you know what scene we’re shooting today? It’s the day Moses plays his original composition. If you don’t mind, I think it would be great to include your piece in the film.”
“Director, without even hearing it? Besides, it’s still incomplete.”
Jean-Pierre remained adamant. There was a reason he was called stubborn.
The 6mm camera that had been filming the set was now focused on me. I reluctantly nodded and took the worn-out violin from Isaac.
There was no need to look at the sheet music; it was already ingrained in my mind.
Standing on the hill, I positioned the violin on my shoulder, and the bow naturally rose towards the sky. The making film camera didn’t miss capturing that moment.
It started with a lyrical melody reminiscent of Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise.
The sorrowful and poignant melody quickly drew everyone’s attention.
I moved my left hand on the strings very slowly. There was no need for fancy techniques. I just focused all my attention on the movement of the bow.
Pressing hard didn’t make the sound louder, nor did flashy bowing enhance the tone.
I kept my senses sharp, not missing a single vibration flowing through the strings.
Each step felt precarious, like walking a tightrope.
My fingers moved freely between the strings as if there were no gaps. The pressure of my fingers and the rapid tempo of the trill were unlike usual.
It wasn’t a crescendo; I was expressing a diminuendo, which was quite paradoxical in a way.
Then it happened.
Zing―!
A strong melody, like a woman’s scream, started to resonate.
The end of the incomplete sheet music was in sight. But the performance showed no sign of ending, as if the bow and strings were continuously intertwined.
I projected the inspiration in my mind directly onto the gleaming strings. The worn-out violin seemed ready to break at any moment.
Crack―!
At that moment, I gripped the bow tighter. The once gentle bowing became as intense as the thick sweat flowing down my chin.
When I played Paganini’s Caprice, my breath was just as labored. Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The sound of falling leaves,
Thump, thump, thump.
and the sound of my heartbeat seemed to merge as one.
I no longer needed the notes on the staff. The inspiration in my mind turned into sheet music and resonated as a melody.
Jean-Pierre, Isaac, and everyone else on set watched the scene with their mouths agape.
The sorrowful melody and sharp cry resonated endlessly. Was it an illusion that the sight of the camp beyond and the boy’s melody seemed to fit so well together?
The violin seemed to cry, representing Moses’ heart.
As the tip of the bow, which had gently caressed the strings, pointed to the ground, everyone exhaled the breaths they had been holding.
“Hyun, what’s that piece called?”
Jean-Pierre asked cautiously, his tension evident. His hand was already drenched in sweat. The others were probably no different.
I hadn’t thought of a title. It was just a melody created from the inspiration in my mind. But it definitely felt like this.
“la belle vie (Beautiful Life).”
