Chapter 2
Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Mozart, Piano Sonata No 16 (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"All of a sudden?"
The sudden knocking on the door made me go outside, where I found Count Harborland standing there.
This wasn't the first time I had seen him.
Our family's territory had been on close terms with his for a long time.
However.
It was unprecedented for him to come up to the second floor himself to look for me.
Ignoring my father, who was standing behind him with an awkward expression, I asked him what was going on.
"Count Harborland, what brings you here?"
"Have you ever considered participating in a solo concert?"
"All of a sudden?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"My apologies if I made you uncomfortable. The music was louder than I expected."
"It's quite alright."
I waved my hand to dismiss my father's apology.
The lack of soundproofing was my fault, after all.
In any case.
The reason the two of them had come to see me was simple.
As I said, the sound of the piano from my room had reached the parlor.
Count Harborland, who happened to be visiting at the time, had heard it and, apparently pleased, insisted on meeting me right away.
"Your playing skill is excellent."
"Not at all."
I answered with humility to the Count's praise.
"By the way, it was a piece I'd never heard before. Were you playing Victor Korsolin's music?"
"No, this was by Motsa..."
...rt. It's no use trying to explain. He's a figure from Earth, and this is another world.
"Actually, I composed it myself."
"Would you believe it!"
The Count clapped his hands in response to my audacious lie.
It was safe enough; there was no way he'd see through it, but was it really that surprising?
I thought everyone here only liked Victor Korsolin's crude performances.
"In all my life, I have never heard such a beautiful melody! Your name was Anton, was it not? You must go to the theater and hold a solo concert at once! I shall provide the sponsorship, so do not worry!"
"No, please listen to what I have to say."
The Count, having been perhaps shocked by hearing Mozart's Piano Sonata, was getting fired up and ranting with passion.
They say great music transcends the ages, but this was a performance that transcended worlds themselves.
"I did not compose this piece for anyone to hear."
"Do you have any idea how irresponsible a statement that is?"
"Pardon?"
"Nobles have a duty."
He then went on to preach about Noblesse Oblige.
"What is duty? It is to share what you have! It is also a noble's duty to showcase your talents and contribute to the advancement of culture!"
"...That is certainly true, but..."
I couldn't argue back against the Count's words, his eyes sparkling with conviction.
The music of this world is pathetic.
That is a self-evident fact.
A mere arrangement of notes with neither basic technique nor creativity is being passed around as a hit song, and a trashy performer is being praised as a master.
But what if I, as the Count said, unleashed the Mozart sonata I had copied right in the heart of the capital?
It would surely have a positive impact.
Just looking at the reactions of my father and the Count was proof enough.
It was just a hypothesis, but if the many performers moved by this piece were to gain enlightenment and unleash their own slumbering artistry...
...much better music and performers would surely emerge, and the level of theater concerts would rise as well.
"And furthermore!"
As I was lost in thought, the Count spoke up again.
"You are in my debt."
"A debt?"
My father's face instantly turned pale.
A debt? Could it be...?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Are you saying he borrowed money from the Count?"
"I was just so happy to hear you'd taken an interest in the piano."
"More importantly, this piano... is it really that expensive?"
"Two hundred gold coins."
"..."
If only he had told me beforehand.
I wouldn't have nagged him to buy it if I'd known.
Two hundred gold coins... that's the equivalent of an entire year's living expenses for a common family.
In modern terms, it's a sum that runs into the tens of millions of won.
Who would ask their own father for tens of millions of won just for a hobby?
Even if I were called a spoiled brat, I'd have no comeback.
"I suppose it will be difficult to pay it back."
"...I suppose so?"
He'd borrowed such a sum from the Count, of all people. The superior-subordinate relationship was already clear, and now we were stuck in an inescapable master-servant dynamic.
Given the Count's personality, he probably wouldn't treat me like a slave.
However.
"I suppose I have no choice but to accept the offer for the solo concert."
"I was already considering it positively."
The advancement of culture is something I want more than anyone.
In fact, I should be grateful he made the offer first.
To release good music and create a foundation and market where even better music can be born.
"I have one condition, though."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"I heard there's a new performer at today's concert?"
"What? Not Mr. Korsolin?"
The theater was as boisterous as ever.
Heavily adorned noble ladies and young misses took their seats, followed by the gentlemen and lords who exchanged handshakes and greetings.
Amidst the noisy atmosphere, all sorts of rumors were flying around.
"I heard they're a performer sponsored by the Imperial Family."
"The Imperial Family? Surely His Highness the Crown Prince isn't performing himself?"
"If only!"
"Shh! How dare you casually mention the Imperial Household! What if someone hears you!"
The old Duke's loud admonishment, silencing the ladies' chatter, was the last word before the curtain on stage opened.
"Hmm?"
"What's this?"
Normally, a performer would appear, bow, and sit at the piano to begin the performance.
But not today.
On the stage where the curtain had opened, there was another curtain.
Because of its translucent material, only the silhouettes of the piano and the performer were faintly visible.
The audience murmured in confusion.
At that moment, a flowing melody began without warning, silencing the noise in an instant.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"My Lady, have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
In the territory of the Dresel Duchy, near the capital.
A maid approached Leah Dresel, the Duke's eldest daughter, who was leisurely reading a book.
"A new performer made their debut at the theater this time, and would you believe it, the reaction was tremendous."
"Tremendous? What do you mean?"
Leah asked back.
She was an ardent fan of Victor Korsolin.
She would attend all of his solo concerts without fail, and even donated generously from her own pocket.
However, this time, it was announced that a different performer would be taking the stage.
That was why she hadn't bothered to go to the theater.
'What is this now?'
Reading Leah's expression, the maid continued her explanation.
"Apparently, a few of the Countesses even fainted. The performer's skill was one thing, but they said the piece sounded like an angel's song."
"You, that's blasphemy."
"My apologies."
Leah asked again, watching the maid bow deeply in repentance.
"So? Go on."
"From what I heard, the performer didn't even reveal their identity. They left right after the performance ended, without even a greeting."
"They didn't reveal their identity? Pfft! It must be Mr. Korsolin. There's no performer in the capital more skilled than him."
"That's the thing. Mr. Korsolin himself issued a statement saying it wasn't him."
"...Is that so?"
Then who could it be?
Leah's mind became complicated.
As far as she knew, there was no one in the Empire with skill comparable to Victor Korsolin.
'Fainted, you say? And it sounded like... an angel's song?'
She had no interest in the performance of some no-name rookie, but the way the maid spoke made her unbearably curious.
"When is the next concert?"
"There are none scheduled."
"Damn it!"
Leah's fist clenched.
The maid was used to seeing her lady like this.
'She always gets like this whenever music is mentioned.'
She felt a pang of guilt, as if she had fanned the flames.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Mozart was the world's first plagiarist composer.
At the age of fourteen, he perfectly copied Gregorio Allegri's religious music, which he had only heard twice at the Sistine Chapel in Rome.
The score for this piece was a confidential document strictly managed by the Papal Court at the time, yet it was brazenly stolen by a mere fourteen-year-old boy.
In that sense, wasn't it inevitable that I would plagiarize Mozart's piano sonata and spread it in this other world?
A plagiarist composer, plagiarizing the work of a plagiarist composer.
The title itself is magnificent.
In any case.
From the morning, my father, Baron Julian, called for me.
When I entered the parlor, Count Harborland was also there.
"Welcome!"
"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"
The Count spread his arms wide, trying to hug me.
Having no interest in being hugged by an old man, I politely declined.
"By the way, Master Anton. Do you know how tremendous the reaction to your concert was? Everyone is eagerly waiting for your next performance."
"...You don't say?"
"Don't worry. I haven't gone around revealing your identity."
"That's a relief."
Performing Mozart's music is fine.
But revealing my identity gives me a strange sense of revulsion.
"Is there a reason you're hiding it so much?"
"It's a burden if people recognize me. A performer just needs to play well."
Truthfully, if I become a famous performer, I could receive the sponsorship of a great house and even be invited to the Imperial Palace to get acquainted with the Imperial Family.
Becoming the top scholar at the Academy would be a piece of cake.
A shortcut to social advancement.
I have no reason to refuse.
But every blessing has a corresponding downside.
If that happens, I would have to give up my carefree life as Anton, the eldest son of the Tilberg family.
If I become famous, what's next?
Just thinking about the attention I'd get from the nobles makes my skin crawl.
I might be dragged to all sorts of banquets and gatherings and made to act like a clown.
As it is, I'm already overwhelmed by just my father and the Count making a big fuss.
I want to live a little more normally, if possible.
"When should we schedule the next concert?"
The Count interjected, asking.
"Forgive me for interrupting, but is it urgent?"
"It's not urgent. I'm just saying we should strike while the iron is hot."
Even as he said that, his face was full of a mischievous expression, clearly expecting a positive answer.
"Please give me some time. I’m in the middle of planning a new piece."
I can't just play Mozart's sonatas every time.
Since I've made up my mind to develop this world's culture, I need to spread as many of Earth's masterpieces as possible.
One by one, slowly.
"Can't you give me a hint?"
As the Count asked, seemingly curious, I answered by pointing a finger out the window.
Through the branches of the garden trees, the faintly glowing crescent moon.