As the conductor nods briefly, the lead member holding the oboe blows a long 'A' note. While the members are busy tuning their instruments to the note of the oboe, the conductor looks at them with sharp eyes and adjusts the pitch of the notes.
The conductor was gesturing to the members to sing a note slightly higher than the standard note, considering the conductor's tendencies. Dozens of instruments were making their own sounds as if they were screaming strangely, and in an instant, the notes came together.
The conductor walks to the first violin and gives instructions to the string section members. He oversees all technical matters of the string section, starting with where to use the down bow and where to use the up bow. He prefers to speak with his eyes rather than with words, so the string section members are busy reading the conductor's detailed instructions throughout the performance.
Dmitry, a conductor from Russia, was as picky as his cold eyes and was nicknamed "cold-blooded" at the London Symphony. However, there was a person in the London Symphony who even the cold-blooded one bowed his head to show respect.
Thump.
As a middle-aged man with gray hair walked in, the orchestra members all stood up from their seats. Those who joined the London Symphony Orchestra had outstanding musical pride and skills. However, the members looked nervous, like children who were being scolded. The conductor Dmitry walked out and shook hands with the conductor politely.
Although it was a rehearsal without a single audience member, it was a moment of indescribable tension and silence.
As the middle-aged conductor looked at them, the members all sat down in their seats.
At that moment, the conductor's left hand swept over the audience,
The baton held in his right hand quickly cuts through the air.
Drumroll!
Dozens of instruments began to make sounds simultaneously in time with the movement of the thin, slender baton. The members moved in unison to the movement of the baton, which indicated the tempo, rhythm, and even the direction of the melody. A series of melodies that sounded like thunder, just like the powerful movement of the fingertips.
Beethoven's Fate Symphony, 1st movement.
The tempo of the members cannot always be the same. This was especially true for the Fate Symphony, which required three exact eighth notes after a short eighth rest. The members had to be tense as if they were standing in the middle of a battlefield and focus their eyes on the conductor's fingertips.
Crunch.
At that moment, the conductor's left hand crossed the air and clenched a fist.
"Horn!"
The deputy chief member holding the golden horn straightened his back as he caught the conductor's gaze. As usual, he did not point out the problem directly. However, his dry eyes stirred his lungs.
again.
When the conductor raised his hand,
The sharp melody of the symphony of fate resonates.
*
"Dmitry. If there's a good horn player among you who can be the deputy principal, bring him."
The face of Spencer, the principal conductor of the London Symphony, is clearly displeased. It is not often that the orchestra members can gather together and practice. But today, the horn player kept making mistakes. He was more upset about not being able to produce a clean sound than about hitting the wrong notes. He must have had too much to drink yesterday.
Dmitry, who was called cold-blooded among the members, nodded silently. He was also a world-renowned violinist, but he respected the conductor Spencer in front of him more than anyone else. There was no violinist who did not look up to Spencer, who was once called an unparalleled genius.
Spencer had been the principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra for several decades. His reputation as a conductor was as stellar as his career as a violinist, and not only had he been knighted by the British royal family, but the London Symphony was also eagerly waiting for him to continue to have a lifetime contract.
There was no way the members didn't know about his perfectionist tendencies. They also had considerable musical pride, but they had no choice but to back down in front of Spencer. That's why they felt uneasy when Spencer didn't say a word. There is no such thing as perfect music in the world.
"Maestro."
Then Dmitry carefully handed Spencer the receiver. Spencer accepted it with a puzzled look.
-My old friend, Spencer. How have you been?
A familiar voice was heard. It was a person with a good face even without looking at him.
"Why are you calling at this hour?"
- Hehe. It's been a while since we last spoke, so aren't you being too harsh? Anyway, I'm in Korea right now.
"korea?"
Spencer thought for a moment and then remembered where Korea was. It was a country he couldn't forget because his older brother had served in the Navy during the Korean War.
"Why did His Highness the Crown Prince, who is responsible for the people's livelihood, go all the way there?"
-Don't say something embarrassing like "Crown Prince." Well, do you know who I met in Korea? He's someone you'd be surprised to see.
Who in Korea would say something like that? But when he heard Samuel's voice following him, Spencer's eyebrows furrowed involuntarily.
"prodigy?"
- Yeah, you're a prodigy. I've never seen a kid play the violin like that in my entire life. It was like watching you in your prime!
"You've grown old, and you've become senile. Stop talking nonsense, I'm still going strong."
It was as if someone would spit out such foul language to the crown prince of a country. Dmitry had already left the place.
"I don't believe in the term prodigy. After Mozart, all the prodigies died out."
Spencer's belief is that even if you have talent, it is difficult to express that ability without effort. He himself was praised as a prodigy, but it was possible because of the painstaking effort that others did not know about. Those who called him a prodigy were nothing less than insulting him.
"I have to go in now, so I'll hang up the phone."
Then, Samuel's voice came from the other end of the receiver, but Spencer hung up the phone unilaterally. It was a night that was not enough to practice all night. Spencer's mind became more anxious because the time was not eternal. He always pursued perfection.
"The prodigy will freeze to death."
Spencer looked at the receiver he had put down and picked up his baton.
* * *
Jiying.
Park Seon-yeong had an expression of ecstasy. How could such music be expressed with just one violin melody? The young boy absorbed the music as if he were drawing on a blank sheet of paper. Park Seon-yeong was amazed at how vast the sheet of paper was and how boundless his mathematical ability was.
Thump thump thump.
As the bow tip soared into the sky, my heart pounded wildly. Adrenaline was pumping out of my head as if I had run a marathon, my breath coming out of my chin. I wondered if I had loved the violin so much, and if so, why had I never known about it in my past life. But whatever.
Jiying.
It's enough to be this happy now.
It had been almost a month since I had taken music lessons at the mansion in Pyeongchang-dong. Although I had only learned briefly in my past life, I was learning musical knowledge as if I was recalling things I had already known. The speed of the learning was so fast that even Park Seon-yeong and I were surprised.
"Brother, play one more song!"
Son Yu-ha has already become my ardent fan. Whenever I play the violin, she pricks up her ears like a rabbit and looks at me with endless admiration. Sometimes, her gaze is so intense that it is burdensome. It was the same even then. She clings to me but sits right next to me, isn't she no different from a cicada on an old tree?
"By the way, Hyun-ah, is it true that you're going back to the countryside after summer vacation?"
Park Seon-yeong looked at him with regret. That was because she had never poured everything she had into tutoring with such passion. Sometimes, she felt inferior to Kang Hyun's talent, but there were more times when she was goosebumps-inducing because of his genius talent.
"Eek. Oppa, don't go."
Son Yu-ha also has a sad expression. She is not going down right now, but she is holding onto my sleeve and not letting go. If someone saw it, they would say it was a reunion of separated families. I felt uncomfortable with the endless gazes of the two women looking at me.
"I don't know yet."
At that moment, Park Seon-yeong's expression brightened as well as Son Yu-ha's expression at the flexible answer. A life that was 180 degrees different from the past. Just looking at how much her grandfather had changed, the future was unpredictable. Son Yu-ha opened her eyes wide and opened her cherry-like lips.
"Brother, then you're not going?"
"hmm."
dripping.
With a sudden knock.
"Student Kang Hyeon, the car has arrived."
Nice timing! A direct answer could be avoided due to the appearance of Mr. Kim Ki-sa.
*
"Isn't it boring when Grandpa calls you here every day?"
"No, it's so nice to be with Grandpa."
My grandfather smiled kindly. The place we arrived by car was none other than Dongju Chemical. After my music class in Pyeongchang-dong, my grandfather brought me to his company instead of his Ichon-dong mansion, and showed me his daily life without any omission.
"Hyun-ah, do you like music?"
The grandfather seemed to be thinking a lot. Because his grandson's musical talent was so outstanding. He had already surpassed the level of learning it as a social hobby. In particular, the violin performance I saw at the banquet hall was so great that I still remember it vividly. Considering his talent, it was only right to encourage him to pursue music, but if I were to think of Dong-ju in the future, I definitely needed someone like Kang-hyun.
"Your mother seems to have a lot of worries."
Grandfather was thinking of having his mother participate in the management. The youngest daughter, who was the most intelligent and wise among his children, should be raised to have the ability to lead Dongju for the rest of her life. There was no one among his original children who had any useful talent.
"If that doesn't work, you can always leave it to the experts."
The grandfather's eyes widened as his young grandson immediately understood what he was saying.
I came up with a way to establish a professional manager. Of course, this was also possible because my grandfather's personality had changed.
"Hyeon-i is good at scratching Grandpa's itchy stomach."
My grandfather's face was full of worry for the past few days, perhaps because of my uncle's work. He had raised the thief so well that prosecutors would occasionally show up at the company. It was fortunate that they nibbled it off early. If my grandfather hadn't known, would my incompetent uncles have caught it? If they had just turned a blind eye to it, the company's finances would have slowly been depleted.
dripping.
At that moment, an unexpected person entered the chairman's office along with a knock on the door.
"Yes, is Director Jeon here?"
My grandfather greeted an executive called Executive Director Jeon Sang-mu. He was in charge of a high-ranking position related to the development of new materials. However, no matter how I looked at him, his shiny face seemed familiar. Executive Director Jeon glanced at me and immediately bowed his head to my grandfather. He seemed to think that was because I had been in the chairman's office a lot recently.
'Where have I seen it?'
This was not the first or second time I had felt this way about the former director. At first, I thought he was my uncle's subordinate and looked unsightly, but as time passed, my suspicions became certain. I had definitely known that person. Of course, in my past life.
A moment when it felt like ants were crawling inside my head.
'ah!'
A scene flashed through my mind. It was definitely from when I was a rookie prosecutor.
'Jeon Han-yong.'
The person I met in the interrogation room. At the time, I didn't have time, so I watched the investigation over his shoulder. That was the name of his case at the time. It was a nickname he had used since he was young. It matched the crime he committed perfectly.
"Full-time use."
I let out a sound without realizing it, and Director Jeon looked back at me with a look of shock. It was as if he was asking me how I knew my nickname.