Chapter 68
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Mad Talent
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As a violinist and professor, Julia had seen countless performers.
By her standards, Rimon's playing posture was less than 10 out of 100.
It was on the level of an elementary school kid who'd just picked up the violin for the first time.
'What is this?'
And that was precisely why.
Julia couldn't comprehend it.
How Rimon's utterly disastrous posture from moments ago had suddenly transformed into a perfect 100-point stance, measured with a ruler.
Or why just witnessing it had sent chills racing across her entire body.
'He just got into position... so why am I feeling this cold shiver?'
Julia panicked at her own inexplicable physical reaction.
But Rimon gave her no time to figure it out.
He simply flashed a satisfied expression at last, then slid the bow across the strings without a hint of hesitation.
Giiiiing.
"...!"
Julia's eyes widened.
Rimon, whom she'd pegged as a total beginner... no, sub-novice since he couldn't even read sheet music.
Yet the melody flowing from that violin wasn't just clearer and purer than expected.
'That's...'.
From the way he held the violin to the angle of the bow on the strings, the subtle vibrations of his left-hand joints adjusting the pitch.
This was Rimon's first time playing that she'd ever seen.
And yet, the technique felt so familiar.
Above all, the familiar melody from the violin struck Julia like a bolt of lightning.
'My... performance?'
In that instant.
Julia realized.
The reason she'd been shocked when he took his stance.
His posture had mirrored hers exactly, like a reflection in a mirror.
'No way... is he copying my performance from just now?'
She was dumbfounded.
She'd told him to try learning it after hearing it once, but she'd thought it impossible in practice.
Yet here he was, mimicking her performance after just one look so convincingly—it was beyond imagination.
'...Yes, Ri. You definitely have talent.'
Julia forced herself to regain her composure.
She was a professor at the Frankfurt Music Academy.
She'd taught musical geniuses from around the world, some of whom could convincingly imitate a performance after hearing it a few times.
Especially players with music-related skills like 『Human Karaoke』 or 『Auto-Play』—that was child's play for them.
'But imitation is still just imitation.'
So Julia thought.
Imitating her performance without a skill was impressive, but not gasp-worthy.
In truth, Rimon's posture and technique matched hers perfectly, but the melody had rough patches here and there.
'If it's just mimicry, even a monkey could do it. A violinist has to play.'
It was only natural.
Rimon and Julia differed from the start in arm and finger length, flexibility, and other physical traits.
Even playing the same instrument with the same piece and technique, those tiny differences created dissonance.
Much less for a technically unskilled Rimon playing without sheet music—there was no way it'd match hers.
Doing this well was already impressive.
'Still, it wasn't an empty boast, so I'll acknowledge that you learned something from watching my performance...'.
Giiing.
Julia flinched.
She sensed something uncanny in Rimon's playing.
A difference so subtle that anyone else might not notice or dismiss it as imagination.
But as a world-class violinist—the very originator of the technique he was using—she detected the change precisely.
And that's why she was shocked enough for her eyes to bulge.
'...My God.'
He adjusted the bow's angle slightly.
Shifted his finger position a bit.
Relaxed the pressure on the string.
Sometimes by the step of an ant, sometimes by the weight of a speck of dust.
Adjust, adjust, adjust.
With each tiny tweak, the dissonance faded, and the sound—not just the form—became eerily similar to hers at a terrifying speed.
Watching Rimon achieve this without spilling a drop of sweat, Julia murmured in a daze.
"He's adapting... my technique to his own body? While playing, in real time?"
Giiiiing.
Rimon recalled.
The Bronze Age, ruled by the Seven Dragons.
And the Heroes Age, when Sword Masters shone.
'There's no such thing in the world as something easily learned.'
Just a few hundred years ago, techniques were considered impossible to pass on fully—not even to one's own children, let alone disciples.
Even common blacksmithing.
Even world-changing scholarship.
Even Sword Master swordsmanship.
The people of this era couldn't imagine how many techniques had been lost that way.
But precisely because of that, the people of those eras had to be even more desperate to learn.
'Watch and steal.'
If no one taught you, the old common sense was to steal techniques just by watching and listening, then master them yourself.
Spend years as a servant, slaving away like a slave to uncover hidden ingredients and recipes in cooking.
Plunge your hand into boiling metal to steal the melting point of alloys.
Memorize everything by sight, since even paper was precious.
To this era's people, it might seem inefficient and foolish.
But it was those thieves and inheritors who advanced humanity's techniques despite the curse of non-transmission.
'If you seek to learn, everything in the world can be your teacher. If you don't give up, you can steal any technique.'
Rimon had been one such person.
Even the swordsmanship that made him a Sword Master—he'd stolen more by eye than learned from his master.
Giiiiing.
So in this moment.
Just like when he'd learned swordsmanship in the past, Rimon was pouring everything into stealing Julia's performance.
Finger movements, breath control, bow speed and angle, even the tiniest muscle twitches.
He reproduced everything he'd seen and remembered from her playing with his body.
For a Sword Master who could analyze an opponent's swordsmanship and devise counters mid-battle down to the second, it wasn't particularly hard.
'The sound still isn't right.'
The real challenge started now.
Compare her performance to his own, and tweak his technique every time he sensed a difference in the melody.
It was absurd trial and error.
Like solving 1 + X = 100 by plugging in numbers from 1 to 100 one by one.
'A bit more.'
But as in the legend of Yu Gong moving the mountain.
That ancient fool carried dirt and stone bit by bit until he truly shifted the peak.
No matter how distant it seemed, persistence would find the way.
'More.'
Above all, Rimon had experience playing the Heartblack Violin.
The techniques of countless era-defining violinists fused into that cursed instrument.
Using them as templates, he compared to Julia's, fine-tuned bit by bit, crafting a technique that produced the exact same sound as hers.
'—Found it.'
The moment his Sword Master senses locked onto a perfectly matching melody.
He slotted that technique into the performance like a gear, then hunted the next gear, refining further.
Hundreds of times?
Billions?
Or nayuta in number?
Splitting even a single second, finding and swapping new techniques over and over and over—until the process finally ended.
The instant all the gears meshed perfectly.
Giiing.
No more clumsy, dissonance-filled amateur playing remained.
Only the smoothest, most beautiful melody of a world-class violinist flowed loftily—a sound no recording device could capture perfectly.
How much time passed like that?
The eternally long performance ended.
Even its afterglow faded.
Only then did Rimon finally lift the bow from the violin, open his closed eyes, and reveal his golden irises.
"Tch, just the sound, huh."
Whatever was so unsatisfying.
Rimon clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction, reflecting on his performance as he muttered.
"I can mimic the technique decently, but without understanding the principles, it lacks depth. Guess there's a lot I still need to learn."
It had only matched the sound.
He couldn't capture the emotion in Julia's playing.
With that cold self-assessment, Rimon held out the violin to her.
"Thanks for the loan. Nice violin."
"...".
"So, how was my playing? I tried to show off everything I learned. Think I pass?"
If not, he'd take a retest—just reconsider.
Rimon spoke so casually.
But Julia gave no reply.
She just took the violin back with a dazed expression, staring blankly at the black-haired young man's face.
"Why the spaced-out look? Not like you fell for this face or anything."
She looked so weird.
Rimon waved a hand in front of her eyes and muttered to himself.
Only then did she snap out of it, it seemed.
Blinking several times, Julia twisted her face into something indescribable before finally bellowing.
"Ri, you... what the hell have you been doing all this time without learning violin with that insane talent?!?!"
"You sure about that?"
The braided-haired man asked incredulously.
The beady-eyed youth replied flatly.
"I told ya I checked it a buncha times already."
"Fool's testimony ain't worth spit, y'know."
"If ya can't trust me that much, just drop it! I'd rather ditch the mission and all than hang with buddies who call me a fool!"
"Conrad, desertion? Desertion?"
"...Crazy buddy? Where'd that come from outta nowhere?"
"Sorry, deserters and traitors get summary execution."
"What kinda cheery smile is that while sayin' somethin' scary?! Wait, wait just a sec! Don't go off on me for a joke!"
What a commotion.
Total chaos.
After a brief uproar with some blood splattered and a near-decapitation.
They finally cleared the misunderstanding. The beady-eyed youth panted in his bloodied state, while the blonde woman watched with a regretful look.
Ignoring their bickering as always, the braided-haired man sank into thought.
"We figured someone'd mess with us, but I didn't expect the thief to be such a big fish... This is unexpected."
"Conrad, whatcha gonna do?"
"What else? Report to the higher-ups and wait for orders."
"Brainless buddy, don't narrow the options like that. The discretion for this op is all mine."
"Whaddya mean? You plannin' to push ahead?"
Ignoring the beady-eyed youth's alarm, the braided-haired man didn't care a bit.
He just glanced at the documents the youth brought—the new location of their 'target'—and smirked faintly.
"This boring mission just got interesting."