Music Blinds the Eyes
Even when I was trapped in that hidden camera capsule, music was an indispensable sedative for me. Especially Brahms—I've lost count of how many times I've listened to his works. Music stimulates the brain, guiding us to another world. Its harmonious melodies evoke all sorts of images: the slither of a snake, a bird's chirping, the sound of being chased by someone. But amid all these sensory associations, the performer themselves is nowhere to be found. Only the performer's 'intent' permeates it.
I came to this simple truth at age thirteen in my previous life. At the Acropolis Square, where my mother Tenebria's execution by fire was underway. There, a grotesque-looking bard was captivating the crowd in front of the fountain, strumming an instrument that resembled a guitar called a mandolin.
After listening to the whole performance, I handed the blind man a gold coin and asked a rather rude question. How could people enjoy and go wild for someone like you? He flashed his yellow, crooked teeth and replied,
"Joyful music blinds people's eyes."
It hit me like a punch to the head. Or rather, like the stone that actually flew from the crowd and struck me while they yelled about interrupting the performance...
That man's words later provided a clue to suppressing the erosion of jealousy. I tried to find the bard again to thank him, but he was nowhere to be seen in the capital of the Kaizen Empire.
My mind had wandered too long. The performance had ended without me realizing. Applause poured in. Just like that debutante back then. My heart pounded so fiercely it wouldn't calm down. Even I get nervous about stuff like this now, huh.
Bark (Crescendo of Fools), the channel specializing in classical music variety shows.
"This is insane. No editing needed at all?"
"Maybe pivot the whole thing to just professors' reactions?"
"Won't they think it's another hidden camera bit?"
The college student PDs nodded. They had no idea how long NoName's violin experience was, but it couldn't be more than a year. Even child prodigies who picked up the bow at three struggle to finish pieces like that at her age. And she pulled off this level of technique on a violin that didn't even fit her body?
"But if they mistake it for hidden camera, isn't that even better?"
Getting that kind of reaction from music academy professors wasn't easy. It was exactly the response they craved from them.
"Professor! We're back!"
"Huh? Didn't you return the violin?"
"We borrowed it for one more day."
Before the professor's round glasses could fire off a suspicious glare, they played the video freshly shot by the pond moments ago.
True to her 30+ years of experience, the professor recognized the piece from the first note. Six minutes thirty? But the video was a bit long. NoName's Caprice No. 24 was played on the slower side.
The professor stroked her chin and listened silently to the rhythm captured by the camera. After hearing the whole thing—arpeggios with 18 notes per measure in a row, ending on a Picardy third coda—she let out a thoughtful hum.
Right after, a small laugh escaped her lips.
"...?"
The music students, anxiously awaiting her verdict, all floated question marks.
"When did you prepare something like this?"
"Pardon?"
"Not another auto-violin? But it's so convincing. No one in the crowd noticed a thing?"
"...!"
"Nah, I won't fall for it twice."
The professor recalled getting pranked two months ago by her Bark friends with an auto-violin hidden camera. They'd faked it like college students playing, but a real violinist remotely controlled it from the next room for the professors' reactions. Dealing with these VTube-obsessed kids, she always reminded herself to watch her words.
Meanwhile, the Bark PDs cheered inwardly. One guy feigned innocence.
"Professor! Then we won't have video source. Just rate it like normal!"
"Ah, sorry! You're editing this, right? Let's see..."
The professor grabbed the mic on her desk. Her eyes sharpened into evaluator mode.
"Great music. Really enjoyed it. My ears were delighted throughout. Felt like the kid cherishes every note. Especially the articulation—it hit right where needed, giving the whole piece an energetic, lively vibe. Bow control was big and bold."
"Any areas for improvement, Professor?"
"Hey, why ask me that?!"
The students tossed the cheeky question on purpose. The professor laughed back and shared her thoughts.
"Hmm... The spot that felt most off to me was..."
"Ooh... Yes, yes!"
"Right before the double-stop section?"
"Before the donkey sound part?"
"Exactly. Everything else was fine, but that bit felt noticeably slower... And the fast-rising arpeggio after? It should've flowed naturally, but the notes wobbled unstably. Can we replay the video?"
"Sure!"
They jumped to 5:45.
"See? The chin rest is shaking. Shoulder tension too—poor anchoring causes that sound."
"Whoa...!"
The students marveled again at her spotting tiny details from audio alone.
"And yet, she nailed the piece flawlessly from start to finish. Octave jumps, triple stopping—all perfect, no question."
"Perfect..."
"So I thought... it felt like an adult playing kids' violins? You know, like when students first try toy violins and it doesn't go as planned. Get what I mean?"
"This is a Matteo Goffriller violin, Professor."
"Exactly—so whoever's behind caught even the mistakes from ill-fitting body size. Oh, sorry...! I misspoke! Start over?"
"No! Keep going casually!"
"Haha, feels like I ruined your content... Anyway, the kid—or whoever—clearly has deep violin knowledge. And surprisingly mature for a child."
"What's mature about it?"
"Kids usually miss details under pressure to hit every note right. But she showed real poise there."
This was the professor's honest take. The performance blended childlike and adult qualities. Could an adult mimicking a kid produce that interpretation? She'd never tried, so who knew.
"Like possessed by a spirit—if I hadn't seen the video, I'd believe it was someone my age. The rich emotion was astonishing. Even white-haired maestros faking clumsiness can't hide their skill—this is that vibe. Why are you all laughing?"
Wait, is the real player bald, not white-haired? The professor replayed her words. No slip-up. She'd spoken pure truth, no embellishments. But just in case.
Then the shocking truth burst from the students.
"Ta-da! The real hidden camera was that it wasn't one!"
"What...?"
There was no auto-violin. At eight years old, NoName had perfectly played Paganini Caprice No. 24, albeit slowly. Not an adult faking a kid—but a kid faking an adult.
"Wait, replay from the start?"
For the first time in her life, the professor doubted her eyes and ears.
After wrapping the impromptu recital at Jahayeon, I hurried to the lecture hall to meet the Seferon Foundation folks as planned. The Kaizen violin was superior in craftsmanship, but a Stradivarius might flip it. Then again, science proved modern U.S.-made high-end violins with cutting-edge tech outperform 17th-century luxuries in sound quality. Price doesn't always mean quality.
"Sorry we're late."
Cool air rushed in, giving me goosebumps. The massive lecture hall, big enough for 200-300, was pitch black overall. Only the front was brightly lit, so I headed there.
"Hello! NoName, right?"
Awkward Korean, via real-time translation magic, drilled into my brain.
"I'm Robert Fuller, who teaches the professors teaching number theory at MIT. This is my protégé, Emily Mayakovsky."
"Not protégé—just subordinate. And he doesn't teach professors. Anyway, nice to meet you, NoName."
"Ah, y-yes... Nice to meet you..."
Quite the characters... The bald guy, looking like a U.S. corporate chairman, introduced himself as Robert Fuller. Emily Mayakovsky, with her blonde hair, exuded classic Slavic vibes.
We shook hands briefly, then sat primly side-by-side in the front row, waiting quietly for him to speak.
"Whew, Korea University lends us Building 28, and I thought what do they take us for, giving us this dump—but it was remodeled last year? Haha! After 30 years, why remodel? Just rebuild. Right?"
"Y-yeah... But why rent such a huge hall?"
This was excessively spacious. I'd imagined a small elementary classroom.
"Prepared for crowds, Fuller Professor said."
A bit fourth-dimensional, huh. Makes sense. Her dark circles were glaring.
"As rumored, NoName seems brilliant! So, could we meet here three times a week for proof questions?"
"What questions could you have that many?"
"Tons. Super super super tons! Didn't organize the list today—next time. But one personal question first."
"Go ahead."
"What does this Korean alphabet mean?"
He held out his phone, showing a photo of my paper.
[mchgjl]
"These mystery letters scattered through the paper caused us real grief. Dozens more, right?"
"I'm curious too, NoName. What's MCGJR?"
"Same."
"Pardon?"
"In English, WLOG. Without Loss of Generality. 'Without losing generality.' So I wrote 'similarly.'"
"Oh my God."
The bald guy clutched his forehead. Well... back then, I didn't expect to publish. Looks like my scribbles included all my personal shorthand.
"Then this too...?"
Seemed like Korea University visits wouldn't end at two or three. English abbreviations only? Korea forever.
Korea University College of Natural Sciences Massive Lecture Building, aka Building 28.
In the elevator, two women's fingers accidentally overlapped pressing floor 3.
"Higgs Studio PD, right? What brings you here...?"
The woman with the violin case on her back asked. One of the students who'd made NoName play earlier.
"What brings a Bark member here?"
Woo Da-yeon, PD for Higgs Studio's physics content, shot a sharp glance and snapped curtly.
"I asked first."
"I'm in Physics & Astronomy too—same building, so what?"
Woo crossed her arms defiantly; the other let out a disbelieving scoff.
"This building's only for freshmen liberal arts? You look like a senior."
"What? Done talking? Then why's a strings major here, junior?"
"Taking liberal arts."
"Ah? Strings specialist suddenly taking biology?"
"..."
Higgs Studio, the 1.5 million sub science/magic channel. Bark, the 1.5 million sub classical music channel. The fierce battle to recruit NoName had ignited.