The Violin That Found Its Voice
The next day, he took the violin out again.
It was the one he had bought for 100 million won at Nakwon Arcade.
The feel of it in his hands the first time was still vivid.
The memory of Yosef Hassid had flowed into him through his fingertips.
Emotion had surged up beyond his control, and he had played as if he had become Hassid himself.
He set his chin on the chinrest and wrapped his left hand around the neck.
Kkamangi sat on the cushion beside him, watching Si-woo as if waiting for the performance to begin.
"Watch closely."
He raised the bow to the strings.
And then.
Kreeeek—
Kkamangi, crouched nearby, jumped in fright, the fur on its back standing on end as it fled behind the sofa.
"Haaak-!"
"..."
From the corner, Kkamangi was hissing and glaring at him.
Its round eyes narrowed to slits.
Tail stiff, it was expressing its displeasure with every inch of its body.
It wore the look of a creature promising not to forgive him if he made that sound again.
No, but even if it was noisy, did it have to run off like that?
He was a little taken aback.
It sounded like the noise a beginner would make the first time they picked up a bow.
A shriek of friction, as though bow and string could not meet properly and were crying out in protest.
He could not feel Yosef Hassid in it at all.
His memory was certainly still there.
He could play the violin with his eyes closed.
Did I make a mistake?
Even monkeys can fall out of trees.
He tried again, slowly.
This time he controlled the pressure of the bow with greater care.
He adjusted the angle of contact with the strings as delicately as he could.
Keeping the speed steady, he let the bow slide across the strings.
The sound was different this time.
The more he played, the clearer the tone became.
The screeching friction disappeared, replaced by a pleasant, resonant timbre.
Kkamangi came back too, reclaiming its spot on the cushion and listening with pricked ears.
But that was all.
It was completely different from Yosef Hassid's playing.
Before, the performance had begun not in the head but at the fingertips.
His hands had led the music without his needing to think where to place them.
Hassid's emotions had lived there.
It had felt as if his very soul were guiding Si-woo.
Now he was nothing more than an ordinary man playing the violin well.
Hassid's performance had carried a delicate vibrato that altered the grain of feeling inside each note.
That exquisite technique, the one that could seize an audience's heart with nothing more than a shift in bow pressure, was not something knowledge alone could reproduce.
It belonged to talent.
Why isn't it working?
The genius of Yosef Hassid had vanished from him now.
He watched the performance again on YouTube.
The Hassid left behind in that recording was on an entirely different level from the one he could produce now.
That wondrous sensation that had bloomed from his fingertips was gone.
Is it because Hassid's resentment has been resolved?
After only a few pieces, his jaw hurt and his fingers were already blistering.
He sat for a moment, stroking Kkamangi and thinking.
When he had first picked up the bow at Nakwon Arcade.
He had taken the violin from the shop display and played the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto that Hassid had once begun in Queen's Hall, then had to stop halfway through.
The grief he had held back for so long had ridden on the tip of the bow and become music.
And when he had played in the UK before Emily and Christine, honoring the grandmother who had protected the violin for them.
He had poured Yosef's feelings into it and played a Hebrew melody.
Si-woo could identify one thing those moments shared.
Emotion.
At least, that was his guess.
But in his current state, he could not play as Hassid had.
No matter how accurately he struck the notes.
If he could not put Yosef Hassid's emotion into them, then that kind of performance would be impossible from now on.
That was a problem.
He might have to perform somewhere else.
And if requests came in later, he would not be able to show them his playing.
Honestly, he could always dismiss it as a private matter.
But disappointment was disappointment.
Or maybe... if there were a trigger that could make that emotion erupt, perhaps the violin could be played again.
He soon stopped thinking about it.
In the end, it had only been a performance learned through memory.
It was not a skill he had honed with his own hands, but someone else's ability handed down by the relic.
Still, Hassid's knowledge of the violin and his fundamentals are still in my head.
That was enough.
I raised the bow again.
This time I expected nothing.
I did not strain to draw up Yosef Hassid's emotion.
I did not thrash around trying to recover that old sensation.
I simply moved the bow as the memory told me to.
The bow slid over the strings.
It was not the sound of a genius at work, but it was a very decent sound all the same.
A stable, steady tone built from the solid basics Hassid's memory had left behind.
He felt movement in the kitchen.
His mother poked her head out and watched him quietly from there.
"Our son is good at this."
She clapped for him.
Well, that was enough.
Si-woo did not stop the bow and played the next piece.
Elgar, "Salut d'Amour."
The slow, gentle melody filled the room.
It might not have carried the genius of Yosef Hassid.
But it was enough to perform for one cat and his mother as an audience.
* * *
Representative's office at Eterna Gallery.
Si-woo sipped his coffee and looked out the window.
The lively streets stretched before him.
Countless shops had been remodeled, and beautiful new cafes had settled into the alleyways one by one.
Before long, the culture street had become lively from noon through evening.
When he had first visited, it had been a refined but quiet district.
Now it had transformed into a place crowded with people on both weekdays and weekends.
Shin A-young came over beside him and looked out too.
"Did everything go well in the UK?"
"Yes, it did. Now we just have to wait for the official appraisal and the result."
Shin A-young nodded, then hesitated for a moment.
"I was curious about Yosef Hassid too, so I looked him up... He really did live a tragic life."
He set down his cup.
"He was a genius violinist who lost his family in the war and never got the chance to fully blossom because of mental illness. He had talent that shocked legendary masters when he was only fifteen, but his illness broke out at eighteen, and he died at twenty-six. He left behind only eight recordings. It was deeply meaningful to have the chance to shed light on his life again."
"Of course. Without you, Si-woo, it would have been impossible."
Her words made him feel a faint touch of embarrassment, but he did not show it.
He was about to take another sip of coffee when Shin A-young suddenly spoke again.
"But, Si-woo."
"Yes?"
She took out her smartphone and played a video.
An all-too-familiar melody drifted from the screen.
It was the violin performance video from Nakwon Arcade.
"That's you, isn't it, Si-woo?"
The video had already passed 600,000 views.
The comment section was packed tight with English, Japanese, and Korean mixed together.
Rumors of every kind were spreading through the comments.
Fortunately, the video had been shot from the side rather than head-on, so not many people recognized him.
Comments like that did appear now and then, but they were quickly drowned out by the rest.
"Well... yes, that's right. It's me."
Once the Nutflix documentary aired, everyone would know anyway.
Shin A-young looked startled.
"Oh, really? I thought it might have been you, Kim Si-woo, but there were all sorts of things in the comments, so I wasn't sure. But now my curiosity's been answered. Have you been learning violin since you were young? You're really incredible!"
"...I've practiced whenever I had time."
"Could you play for me sometime?"
Her tone was polite.
But there was a determination in her voice that said she intended to see him play with her own eyes, no matter what.
After a brief hesitation, he spoke carefully.
"If... the opportunity comes up next time, I'll play for you once."
"Ah, don't feel too burdened by it."
I really do feel burdened.
He wanted to say that.
Things were already bad enough since he could no longer play as Yosef Hassid had.
Of course, Si-woo had no idea when another chance to play the violin would come.
* * *
Back in his office, he greeted Choi Yi-seo.
"Team Leader Choi Yi-seo, you've been well, haven't you?"
"Yes, of course. Welcome back. I've been waiting for you."
Choi Yi-seo welcomed him warmly.
Even while he was in London, she kept stuffing work into the shared drive without pause.
He wanted to tell her she didn't need to work quite so hard.
But if he said the wrong thing to someone burning with enthusiasm, he might hurt her feelings, so he kept quiet.
Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't found the Chunyeong Sword, thanks to her.
The screenshots she had sent came with the reasons for selecting them, suspicious points in the relics, and background information related to them, so he had learned quite a lot.
Si-woo looked at his computer and the files piled up before him.
He no longer judged things by merely seeing the relic's light.
He examined them, trying to figure out as much as possible about why they were wrong.
And just like that, a month passed quickly.
The appraisal result for the violin Le Chant du Silence was finally in.
* * *
He took Oliver's call.
"The appraisal results came back through J&A Veer. Their specialist appraisers were extremely surprised as well."
"So what was the result?"
"Naturally, it's authentic. There is no other possible conclusion. Congratulations, Appraiser Kim Si-woo."
"Thank you. And what about the provenance?"
"It has all been verified, from Fritz Kreisler to Hassid's hands. This wasn't just a vague assumption that Hassid seems to have used it. The records are fairly intact, so everything has been recognized. I'll send you the appraisal report as a file along with the documentation."
J&A Veer's conclusion, from a 130-year history of expertise, was simple.
Not only did the instrument perfectly match the craftsmanship techniques and wood data from Vuillaume's prime years, but even the initials inside and the wording in the pegbox pointed to the fact that it had belonged to Yosef Hassid.
"J&A Veer has also decided to formally register this instrument in its archive. Since it is classified as a historically significant violin, this appraisal record will be used as an official reference in any future auction or transaction."
There was a restrained excitement in Oliver's voice, the sort peculiar to an appraiser.
He understood better than anyone the value of this violin.
"You worked hard, Mr. Oliver. Now all that's left is for this instrument to find its owner."
"Yes. Now what remains is to find a steward who can take on this great legacy. Appraiser Kim Si-woo, several private collectors have already contacted us. Do you have any thoughts?"
"No. I don't intend to hand it over to a private individual. This violin must never fall silent again. It should go somewhere people can hear its sound. That's what its owner would want too."
"An excellent decision."
He ended the call and let out a long breath.
The evening glow was spreading beyond the window.
One side of his chest felt tight with emotion.
At last, the instrument that had slept for more than half a century had officially regained its name before the world.
Now the next step was to preserve the violin's value in full, while choosing a foundation that would lend out Le Chant du Silence on the condition that its story be revealed to the public before each performance.
Realistically, there were only a few foundations he could choose from.
After all, there were only a handful of places in the world that would lend out a violin worth tens of billions of won.
And then.
Samjung Cultural Foundation suddenly came to mind.
What if it were there...
A large foundation.
That place might make it possible.
He found Chairman Lee Jae-yong's contact information.
After a moment of hesitation, he sent a careful text.