22
## Chapter 22 — A Wild Violinist Appears
Mokpo, the city of flavor.
Earlier, I’d called Yeosu the city of flavor, but honestly, most cities in Jeolla Province deserved that title.
Since I planned to stay in Mokpo for a few days before heading to Jeju Island, I wandered around visiting all kinds of famous restaurants.
“Wow, the salt bread here is seriously delicious.”
This time, I even waited in line at a bakery in downtown Mokpo and bought an entire bag full of bread.
A crispy texture that crumbled apart the moment you bit into it, hiding an unbelievably soft interior beneath.
And over that, just the faintest touch of bitterness.
They called it a famous salt bread shop for a reason.
“Let’s see… where should I go next?”
I popped the last piece of salt bread into my mouth and pulled a notebook from my pocket.
Inside was a densely packed list of restaurants I wanted to visit in every city.
“When you think of Mokpo, it’s gotta be baby octopus. Oh, there’s a place nearby too. I should go right now.”
My next destination was a famous baby octopus restaurant near downtown.
And so, while happily smiling to myself as I crossed one of the busiest plazas in Mokpo—
“WAAAAAAAHHHH—!!”
“Hm?”
I suddenly heard a child crying somewhere nearby.
Actually, not somewhere nearby.
When I turned my head, I found a little girl standing right beside me.
She looked around four or five years old and was sobbing miserably, apparently having lost her parents.
The problem was—
“Looks like the kid got separated from her parents.”
“I wanna help, but I’m in a rush…”
People clicked their tongues sympathetically at the sight of the crying child—
yet nobody actually helped her.
Even in this relatively crowded area for a provincial city, people only glanced at the crying child with pity before awkwardly avoiding eye contact and moving on with their lives.
The scene looked strangely cold.
Still, I understood.
It was Monday afternoon. Everyone was busy.
Apparently, the only person around with enough free time to help was me.
So I immediately approached the girl.
But—
“Hey there, did you maybe lose your par—”
“WAAAAAAAHHHH—!!”
“N-Noona’s not a suspicious pers—”
“WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!”
Comforting a crying child wasn’t something just anyone could do.
“She’s got lungs fit for a general…”
Eventually deciding I couldn’t solve this alone, I called the police.
The officers said they’d come immediately after receiving the missing-child report, but because of the distance it would still take around ten minutes.
“…Alright then. What do I do now?”
“WAAAAAAAHHHH—!!!”
From this point on, my mission became stopping this little girl from crying.
“Hey, wanna look at oppa for a second? Peekaboo~!”
“WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!!!”
Somehow her crying only got louder.
Wondering if maybe I looked scary, I glanced down at the now-empty bread bag in my hand and suddenly got an idea.
Poke, poke.
I tore eye holes into the bread bag so I could see, then even added breathing holes in case it felt stuffy, before pulling it over my head and standing in front of the child.
“Ta-da! I’m Bread Bag Man!”
“Sniff…? Waaah…!”
Oh, it worked.
Well… partially.
The girl stared at me curiously for a moment before immediately starting to cry again.
‘…Now I’m getting stubborn about this.’
Determined to stop her crying completely, I looked around for anything else I could use.
And then—
“…Oh.”
I spotted a piano sitting in the middle of the plaza.
It was surprisingly clean and well-maintained despite being out in such a crowded area, so apparently it wasn’t illegal and had probably been installed by the local government.
‘…That might work.’
Maybe this could finally stop the girl from crying.
“Wanna go with Bread Bag Man to the piano over there?”
“Waaahhh…!”
Cling.
Even while crying, the little girl tightly grabbed my hand and walked with me to the piano.
I sat her down beside me and fell into thought in front of the keyboard.
‘What should I play for her?’
What song could instantly stop this little girl from crying?
A crying child was an extremely demanding audience.
Something slow wouldn’t work.
I needed flashy technique to grab her attention immediately and an intense progression to fully immerse her.
Ah.
“I’ll play you a song, okay?”
Soon, a perfect piece came to mind, and I placed my hands on the keys.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!”
The child cried even louder, almost as though daring me to try.
But then—
—♬♬ ♪♬
“Hic…? W-Waa…?”
The moment the intense, dazzling performance began, she stopped crying.
Rachmaninoff’s arrangement of *Flight of the Bumblebee*.
Originally, *Flight of the Bumblebee* was an orchestral piece composed by the Russian composer Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov for an opera.
But later, Sergei Rachmaninoff—often considered one of the greatest pianists of the recording era—arranged it into a solo piano piece.
—♬♪ ♬♬♬ ♪♬ ♬♬♬
The defining feature of the piece was its insane sixteenth-note tempo and frantic staccato passages that completely hypnotized audiences.
“Wooooow…!”
The little girl beside me had completely stopped crying and now stared wide-eyed at my fingers flying nonstop across the keyboard.
And not just the child—
“Whoa… someone’s performing!”
“No way, this is insane…!”
The busy people who had ignored the crying child moments ago suddenly gathered around me in an instant.
Because of its tempo and technical brilliance, Rachmaninoff’s *Flight of the Bumblebee* carried a flashiness comparable to one of Franz Liszt’s études.
It had been a long time since I last played it, but once my fingers adjusted to the tempo, they handled the performance perfectly.
It felt as though I didn’t even need to think anymore—my fingers moved automatically on their own.
—♪ ♬♬♪♬ ♬♬♬ ♬♪
At some point, I’d started improvising an even more transcendental version by adding octaves into the piece.
‘This…’
This wasn’t Rachmaninoff’s *Flight of the Bumblebee* anymore.
It felt more like if Liszt himself had heard the piece and rearranged it into one of his own études.
疯狂 trills, leaps, and octaves fused together into a monstrous new version of *Flight of the Bumblebee*.
At that moment, my fingers danced wildly across the keyboard like blades in motion, creating an entirely new arrangement on the spot.
And when the performance finally ended—
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP.
“WOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHH—!!”
“WHOOOOOOOO—!!”
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and cheers.
Some people even placed bills on top of the piano I’d been playing.
And the little girl—the very reason I started performing in the first place—
“WAAAAAAH! Oppa! You’re amazing!!”
—had completely stopped crying and was now clapping together with everyone else.
Even I, still dazed from realizing I’d spontaneously rearranged *Flight of the Bumblebee* just like I once did with *La Campanella*, found myself smiling back at the child’s bright expression.
“So? Oppa’s piano playing is pretty good, right?”
“Yeah! Super good! You’re the best!”
And right then, the girl’s mother arrived together with the police.
“Suhyun-ah!”
“Mommy!”
“Where did you go?! I’ve been looking everywhere!”
Her mother’s face was covered in tears, apparently having worried terribly.
As I watched them reunite, one of the officers approached me.
“The mother had just arrived at the station to file a report, so we came together.”
“I see.”
“You’re the person who reported the child, right? Thank you very much.”
Not just the police—even the girl’s mother repeatedly bowed to me in gratitude.
She tried offering me money as thanks, but I politely refused.
Because thanks to this child, I felt like I’d gained something even more precious than money today.
“Oppa! Bye-bye!”
“Take care! Don’t get lost next time!”
And so, the little girl left smiling together with her mother, bringing the heartwarming incident to a close.
But—
Murmur murmur.
Even after everything ended, the crowd gathered around the piano still hadn’t left.
They kept staring at me—still wearing the bread bag over my head—as though silently asking:
“When are you performing again?”
And honestly, I felt motivated too.
My fingers had loosened up from the previous performance, and excitement surged through me. I wanted to keep playing a little longer.
Just as I sat back down at the piano—
“The arrangement you played for *Flight of the Bumblebee* just now… you improvised it yourself, didn’t you?”
“…!”
Startled that someone recognized I had rearranged the piece, I quickly turned around.
“That performance left a really strong impression.”
“……”
A woman carrying a violin case stood there gazing at me with an enchanted expression.
‘…Huh? W-Why is *she* here?’
Because—
I knew her.
The violin marks on her neck.
Her graceful, beautiful fingers.
And a face and pale skin just as beautiful as those fingers.
Even though it had been years since I last saw her, there was no way I wouldn’t recognize her.
But apparently she didn’t recognize me at all beneath the bread bag hiding my face.
“Kim Jia? Wait, isn’t that Kim Jia?”
“Kim Jia? *The Korean Paganini*?”
Under the crowd’s astonished gazes, she opened her violin case.
Then, pulling out her violin, she made me an offer.
“Would you perhaps be willing to play together with me for a little while?”
Her gentle smile carried both curiosity—
and competitive spirit.
---
One of Korea’s greatest violinists.
The woman known as *Korea’s Paganini*, Kim Jia, had come to Mokpo for orchestra volunteer work.
Arriving several days earlier than the rest of the orchestra members, she had been leisurely exploring famous restaurants when she suddenly stopped upon hearing a beautiful piano melody.
“…Hm?”
—♬♪ ♬♬♬ ♪♬ ♬♬♬
Piano and violin were inseparable companions.
Even as a violinist, she instantly recognized the piece.
“Rachmaninoff’s *Flight of the Bumblebee*… the technique is extraordinary.”
A pianist of this caliber in a place like this?
Curious, she followed the melody and eventually found a pianist wearing a bread bag over his head while performing like someone possessed.
‘…He performed *like that*? Wait… hold on. The progression’s different from the version I know.’
—♪ ♬♬♪♬ ♬♬♬ ♬♪
The pianist had inserted all sorts of transcendental techniques into an already insanely difficult piece.
“…Good lord.”
Even without being a pianist herself, Kim Jia immediately understood how absurdly advanced the performance was.
It felt like listening to what Liszt himself might’ve created had he played *Flight of the Bumblebee*.
As she listened, Kim Jia found herself unconsciously overlapping the pianist with someone else.
“……”
The Bread Bag Pianist resembled him.
Her oldest and most precious friend—the one she could no longer easily meet anymore.
The genius pianist she once loved most in the world—
the one who still couldn’t leave his room no matter how many times she knocked on his door over the past decade.
‘This person… his playing style resembles Hangyeol.’
Beside the Bread Bag Pianist sat a little girl with tear stains all over her face.
Apparently, he had started playing specifically to stop her crying.
Even that gentle kindness resembled her friend.
Kim Jia smiled bitterly.
The rearranged *Flight of the Bumblebee* still felt somewhat rough and unrefined, but it was beautiful enough to make her smile.
At the same time—
it awakened her competitive spirit.
Ever since birth, she had been a violinist through and through.
Whenever she encountered a truly skilled pianist, she could never resist challenging them.
“Would you perhaps be willing to play together with me for a little while?”
Once the performance ended and the situation settled down, Kim Jia approached the Bread Bag Pianist holding her violin.
Smiling at the pianist, who had frozen strangely upon seeing her, she asked:
“Between the piano and the violin, which do you think is the superior instrument?”
In truth, the beauty and greatness of those two instruments could never truly be compared.
But—
when people *did* compare them, surprisingly many tended to favor the piano.
Violinist Kim Jia had always wanted to shatter that perception.
“I personally believe the violin surpasses the piano as an instrument… so would you perhaps accept my small challenge?”
“…!”
A performance battle.
Kim Jia—one of Korea’s greatest violinists—had challenged an unknown underground piano master to a duel.
“A challenge? Kim Jia challenged that Bread Bag guy?”
“Kim Jia’s famous for constantly doing performance battles against skilled pianists!”
At the shocking development, people immediately began pulling out their phones and recording.