Chapter 74
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Listen.
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Twang, twaaang.
A sound rang out.
It was a single performance.
The beautiful melody produced by an instrument meticulously tuned by its luthier, shaped by the soul.
The audience was entranced, shedding tears of emotion just from listening, yet holding even their breaths so as not to disturb the music.
As if swept up in that reaction,
the performer poured even more passion into the piece.
The crowd fell deeper into rapture, overwhelmed by greater emotion.
It was an infinite spiral. Admiration birthed deeper admiration, etching itself endlessly into each other's hearts in a virtuous cycle.
A performance so exquisite that even an iron-hearted man without blood or tears couldn't help but be moved.
Woooaaah!
Clap clap clap clap clap clap!
The moment it finally reached its end,
roaring cheers and thunderous applause erupted from the seats.
The audience, faces flushed with excitement and emotion, leaped to their feet, cheering as if they could go on for hours, and the performer responded with a smile.
It was a picture-perfect scene.
The ideal finale every performer dreamed of—one that warmed the hearts of all who witnessed it.
All but one.
A man watching with arms crossed and a cold expression spoke up.
"...Out of all the bullshit performances I've heard in my life, this takes the cake."
"Team leader, you're an idiot, right?"
Snap!
Squawk!
"You wanna get smacked?"
"Argh, shit! Warn a guy before you hit him!"
She got smacked so often that her forehead must have toughened up like some indestructible martial art.
Or maybe she was just too riled up to feel the pain.
The blue bird—Yuna Kyung—tumbled off Rimon's head from the flick but sprang right back up, flapping her wings indignantly.
"And it's true that you pulled some idiot move! Who trash-talks a performance the second it ends?!"
"What about all the critics in the world, then?"
"They're experts!"
"Critics don't need any special license, far as I know."
"Well, yeah, but... "
"Whether you're an expert or not, needing 'qualifications' just to share your honest opinion sounds pretty weird to me."
"Why are you always so logical when you shoot back like this, even though you're usually such a loose cannon?!"
"'Cause it pisses you off more than just flicking your forehead."
"That's your reason?!"
Realizing she'd become the butt of the joke, she fumed for a moment.
Then she grumbled sullenly.
"Anyway, that's not what I meant. I'm talking about basic human decency."
"You know, I once knew a philosopher who argued that all poets are useless scum and the proper thing to do is beat them and drive them out."
"Who the hell said crap like that?!"
"Plato."
"...That Plato? One of history's greatest sorcerers?"
"Yup. Guy had a silver tongue. Back in the Bronze Age, he talked his way into getting ancient Greece its autonomy."
"That's why the Free City League's still called 'Europe outside Europe'... No, that's not the point! Hiding behind historical figures is cowardly!"
"By that logic, my whole existence is cowardly."
"Nah, that's not it. You're not a historical figure—you're a mad dog."
Snap!
Yowch! Stop hitting my head! It's a bird brain already—keep it up and it'll actually get dumber!"
"If you're so worried about your brain cells, how about fixing that habit of talking without thinking first?"
"Some things don't change no matter how hard you try."
"That's nothing to brag about, birdbrain."
Rimon clicked his tongue at the blue bird puffing out her chest proudly.
But Yuna Kyung, her face hardened like steel feathers, ignored the sharp glare.
She just asked curtly.
"So, where to next?"
"Dunno."
He scratched his cheek for a moment.
Then he pulled out a notepad, flipped through it, and scanned the pre-marked spots before speaking.
"Looks like there's a classical concert at the cultural center in an hour."
"Team leader, didn't you just get death glares for trash-talking at that classical show not long ago?"
"Hm. What about this musical at the theater? Internet reviews are pretty good."
"Didn't you say yesterday you'd never trust online randos again?"
"Then this traditional folk performance..."
"Three days ago, you mouthed off about clueless hacks abusing instruments and got kicked out."
"...Na-kyung, you got a grudge or something?"
Rimon furrowed his brow at Yuna Kyung, who shot down every suggestion.
She shot him a look of disbelief right back.
"That's what I wanna ask you."
"Why me?"
"You go on about wanting to love music or whatever funny bullshit, but the last few weeks, you've scowled through every single show."
That was right.
Rimon wasn't on this concert pilgrimage because he had time to kill.
It was training—per Julia's advice—to hone his violin skills.
"It's not total bullshit. You can't get good at something you don't even like."
"...Hearing that from you makes even obvious advice sound unconvincing."
Yuna Kyung was dumbfounded.
He had zero interest in music to begin with.
She knew better than anyone how terrifyingly fast he'd improved since first picking up an instrument just months ago.
So that line grated worse than some exam-topper bragging about acing it with just textbooks.
"I'm just naturally gifted."
"Wow, so obnoxious... and I can't even deny it. Double obnoxious."
"Facts are facts."
Yuna Kyung couldn't bring herself to argue.
Instead, she planted her wings on her hips and snapped peevishly.
"So what? Your talent's so off the charts that everything else sounds like crap?"
"Who knows. I'd take that explanation gladly."
"What're you on about?"
"You have to hear a performance at least once to know if it's crap."
"...So what were those ones you just listened to intently and trashed?"
"That's what I wanna know."
"...???"
Whether Yuna Kyung floated question marks over his head or not,
Rimon kept flipping through his notepad and narrowed his eyes at one entry.
"Hm, indie band, huh..."
"Now you're checking out band music?"
"These guys sound like ronin, playing whatever they feel like. Bet they've got some bite."
"You're the only weirdo expecting rogue warrior vibes from an indie band..."
With his next destination set, Rimon headed toward the spot listed for the indie band's gig.
Yun-dae Music Street.
A hub where indie bands, music students, rappers, and aspiring singers gathered for street performances.
Seeing the crowd milling around the central stage, Rimon looked a bit hopeful.
But the moment the indie band took the stage,
he scowled fiercely.
"...I'm the idiot for expecting anything."
"Huh? Why?"
"Just a feeling they'll bomb."
"The show's not even started!"
"You can tell at a glance."
Rimon sighed.
His eyes, now pitch black instead of their usual gold, narrowed at the band members.
Vines twisting like veins up the guitarist's arms, a bat head bulging like a wart on the vocalist's throat, six insect legs sprouting from the drummer's back.
It wasn't their grotesque, chimera-like appearance—like some black mage's handiwork.
He could already guess what their music would be like.
From experience.
And regrettably, Rimon's hunch was spot on again.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
"Yeah yeah yeah—!"
Insect legs pounding drums alongside the sticks.
Vines strumming guitar with the fingers.
A high note screeching from the bat's maw instead of the singer's throat.
As the performance kicked off, Rimon sighed at the constellations—more lively than the performers themselves—tied to their contracts.
"Fuck, if you're gonna use skills for music, don't call yourselves indie."
Yuna Kyung, perched on his head, replied.
"Come on, that's impossible these days. Who makes music without skills?"
"Julia didn't."
"That's why she's the Witch of the Violin, a genius."
"Even so, I've hit dozens of concerts. How is there not one pure player?"
Rimon fumed.
That was exactly why he'd scowled through every show lately.
"What's wrong with using skills?"
"Oh? Defending them 'cause you were a player too?"
"Not defending—just don't get it. Skill or no skill, good music is good music."
"...Good music."
Rimon furrowed his brow at Yuna Kyung's utterly baffled question.
Then he gazed back at the stage with his natural golden eyes, the black glow subsided.
Without the constellations' power muddying things,
the band looked normal, and the now-clearer music wasn't half bad.
If it were a total mess, this crowd wouldn't have gathered or cheered so wildly.
"Yeah, to most folks, that might count as good."
Rimon nodded slowly.
Then he murmured.
"But that's not why I came here. I don't want to like music like that."
He didn't deny skills' usefulness, even if they called him outdated.
Hell, if their music had come through clean, he might've been satisfied.
But with his senses attuned to constellations, ears opened by the Heartblack Violin, and honed under Julia's relentless training, Rimon perceived differently.
The subtly amateurish human playing.
The constellation skill forcibly overlaying it.
The dissonance from their mismatch—inaudible to others—grated on him.
"...Well, if that's how you feel, nothing for it. Let's try somewhere else."
Maybe sensing his genuine frustration,
Yuna Kyung nodded without nitpicking.
Rimon departed Music Street with her atop his head.
Or tried to.
Ding—
"...?"
The street buzzed with the indie band's show and cheering crowd.
Until he caught that faint sound from a corner.
"Team leader? Where you going all of a sudden?"
Ding, ding ding.
Ignoring Yuna Kyung's confusion at his abrupt turn,
Rimon followed the sound without a second thought.
And there it was.
A remote corner of Music Street.
No stage, no amps, not even a proper chair.
Just a performer perched on a flower bed planter, strumming a guitar.
Without a single skill.