24
## Chapter 24 — Liszt and Paganini Descend Upon Mokpo
Six and a half million views in only seventeen hours.
Up until now, none of the YouTube videos Park Heeyeon had appeared in had ever surpassed five million views.
“……Good grief.”
Shock, envy, jealousy—
countless emotions crossed through Park Heeyeon as she pressed play on the video.
The moment it started, the screen showed Kim Jia holding a violin and—
“…What is *that*? What’s he wearing on his head…?”
—a man sitting at a piano with what looked like a paper bag pulled over his head.
Judging by the circumstances, this person had to be creep, but the bag even had an actual bakery logo printed on it.
“…Last time it was a rabbit mascot head, and now it’s a bread bag? Seriously…”
And he could properly perform piano wearing *that*?
Just as doubt crossed her mind, the performance began immediately.
Kim Jia started first.
“Ernst’s *Erlkönig*.”
Even as someone who wasn’t a violinist, Park Heeyeon immediately immersed herself in Kim Jia’s performance and began
evaluating it.
Kim Jia’s playing was flawless.
The most important thing in *Erlkönig*, originally an art song, was emotion.
From Jia’s dazzling bow strokes, the child’s fear and terror toward the Erlking transmitted perfectly.
“She’s always had extraordinary talent. It would’ve been nice if she’d become a pianist instead of a violinist.”
Even though Park Heeyeon normally disliked Kim Jia, she couldn’t deny how textbook-perfect and polished her performance
was.
But her true shock began afterward.
—♬♬♬ ♪♬♬♬
“…What?”
The moment creep’s performance started, her eyes widened in alarm.
Franz Liszt—the musician she admired and respected most.
The piece creep was playing was Liszt’s *Erlkönig*.
Yet at the same time—
it wasn’t the Liszt *Erlkönig* she knew.
“Why is the tempo this fa—… that’s not a mistake. Don’t tell me he’s playing prestissimo…?”
Park Heeyeon stared in horror at creep’s fingers flying wildly across the keyboard.
creep was playing Liszt’s *Erlkönig* at insane speed.
And yet the emotion inside the piece wasn’t weakened in the slightest—
it was amplified even further.
Dududududu—
The sound of horse hooves terrifying the child inside the composition.
Those hooves trampled not only the music itself—
but the hearts of the audience as well.
And added on top of that was creep’s chilling control of dynamics and pacing.
At first, he overwhelmed listeners with violent, merciless melodies.
Then, with sweet harmonies, he seduced and lured them in.
Just like the Erlking himself, hunting for human souls.
“…Wow.”
When creep’s performance ended, Park Heeyeon realized she’d unconsciously gasped aloud.
Last time, he rearranged *La Campanella*.
And now he’d rearranged *Erlkönig* too?
As though possessed by something, Park Heeyeon placed her hands on the piano keys and attempted to imitate creep’s
arrangement.
But—
“…Ugh.”
She hit a wall immediately.
Her fingers, growing heavier with age, couldn’t possibly keep up with creep’s tempo.
More than anything—
her wrists simply couldn’t endure it.
“…How in the world did he play this?”
Even if it were the younger Park Heeyeon from her prime, she still wasn’t confident she could perfectly perform creep’s
*Erlkönig*.
In the past, people used to whisper that performers with such superhuman technique had made contracts with the devil.
The violinist Niccolò Paganini had been one.
And the pianist Liszt had been another.
For the first time, Park Heeyeon finally understood how those people must have felt.
‘…Is he even human?’
Last time it was a rabbit mascot head.
This time it was a bread bag.
Park Heeyeon almost felt as though if she ripped away the mask covering creep’s face—
a demon would appear underneath.
And at the same time—
she coveted that demonic talent.
No matter how many talented musicians Korea produced, the country was still considered a peripheral region compared to
the classical music powerhouses of the West.
But with talent like creep’s—
perhaps her lifelong dream could finally become reality.
Sweeping every major competition:
Chopin, Queen Elisabeth, Tchaikovsky—
With creep’s talent, it no longer felt impossible.
And as if proving her thoughts correct, the video continued with another insane performance from creep.
The performance battle between the violinist who’d made a deal with the devil—
and the pianist who’d done the same—
was only just beginning.
---
“Then this time, since I’m the loser, I’ll choose the next piece first!”
Nod.
As I nodded, Kim Jia picked up her violin with an excited expression.
Her face overflowed with pure innocence and joy.
‘What piece is she going to play this time?’
Starting the very first battle with *Erlkönig* had already been absurdly difficult.
Surely she’d choose something a little easier this time—
…or so I thought.
—♪♩ ♪♬♬
“Ah…”
The moment the opening notes flowed out, everyone present froze.
The mountain every professional violinist had to overcome—
and the signature masterpiece of all great violinists:
Niccolò Paganini’s *Caprice No. 24 for Solo Violin*.
‘Jia’s serious.’
The playful innocence had vanished from Kim Jia’s face, replaced entirely by concentration.
Naturally so.
For the woman called Korea’s Paganini, this piece was practically her pride itself.
“Waaah……”
The beautiful melody drew admiration from everyone listening, while the technique alone dazzled the eyes.
Watching Jia perform the piece rumored to have been composed after Paganini sold his soul to the devil felt utterly
mesmerizing.
And when the inhumanly beautiful performance ended—
“WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH—!!”
I applauded and cheered together with everyone else.
And then—
—♪♩ ♪♬♬
“……!”
Before the excitement could even fade, I immediately began playing.
“Uh…? This is…!”
“It’s the same piece as before—no, wait, it’s different!”
The great pianist Franz Liszt had once attended a Paganini concert at age nineteen and become deeply inspired.
Paganini’s compositions were all impossibly difficult, impossibly intricate, and impossibly beautiful.
And among them, the purest embodiment of Paganini’s genius was *Caprice No. 24*.
Which Liszt later rearranged into:
*Grandes Études de Paganini No. 6*.
Commonly known as Liszt’s *Paganini Étude No. 6*.
And that was the piece I began playing.
Paganini made a deal with the devil?
Then Liszt surely had too.
Into the eleven variations of *Paganini Étude No. 6*, I poured all the transcendental techniques possible only through
piano.
“Wooooow……”
“What are those hands…?!”
Both Paganini and Liszt were said to have unusually long fingers compared to ordinary people.
Jia, Korea’s Paganini herself, also had fingers longer than most men.
But unlike them, my fingers were relatively short—
so I compensated through massive leaps across the keyboard.
As a result, my hands practically bounced over the keys while I sank deeper and deeper into a trance-like state.
‘Liszt, you insane bastard.’
How could a human being possibly compose something like this expecting another human to play it?
Even while mentally cursing Liszt, I performed his piece more perfectly than ever before.
“WAAAAAAAHHHH…!”
And just as I finished and lifted my hands from the piano—
—♪♬ ♬♬ ♩♬ ♬♩
“……!”
Kim Jia immediately retaliated by starting another piece.
Paganini’s *Violin Concerto No. 2 in B minor, Third Movement*.
Subtitle:
*La Campanella*.
Jia performed a solo arrangement of the original concerto version.
‘She’s really choosing *La Campanella* here?’
Jia already knew I was the creep who rearranged *La Campanella*.
Yet she deliberately chose to play it first.
A declaration of war.
At that moment, I suddenly remembered a conversation from our childhood.
‘Liszt’s *La Campanella* is more beautiful.’
‘What are you talking about? The original *La Campanella* belongs to Paganini.’
Paganini’s *Violin Concerto No. 2, Third Movement — La Campanella.*
And—
Liszt’s *Grandes Études de Paganini No. 3 — La Campanella.*
Which piece was truly more beautiful?
Jia performed Paganini’s *La Campanella* first.
And without hesitation, I immediately followed by continuing into Liszt’s *La Campanella*.
Liszt had admired Paganini deeply after seeing his performances, but the two had never truly shared a direct
relationship.
Yet Jia and I played passionately as though embodying those two devil-contracted performers ourselves.
Stealing each other’s melodies.
Taking and retaking musical control.
And when my turn returned once again—
I performed a new *La Campanella*.
My own rearranged version.
“……!”
Jia flinched in surprise, and the initiative shifted to me.
Feeling victorious, I fully unleashed my rearranged *La Campanella*.
—♪♬♬♪♬♬♪♬
The rich, crystal-clear sounds born from short trills scattered beautifully like ringing bells.
And then—
‘…Oh?’
Jia quietly listened to my playing for a moment before carefully joining in.
This time, instead of stealing each other’s melodies, we synchronized our rhythms and built harmonies together.
Another improvised arrangement.
Because I knew Jia’s habits and playing style better than anyone, I immediately adapted to her performance—
and Jia naturally melted into mine as well.
‘…Wow.’
Another beautiful melody was born unexpectedly.
Originally, Paganini’s *La Campanella* and Liszt’s *La Campanella* only shared a theme and were otherwise entirely
different compositions.
They should never have blended together.
But the *La Campanella* we played now—
the version I rearranged—
fit together so naturally it sounded as though it had been written as a duet from the very beginning.
And when the performance ended—so breathtaking even I couldn’t believe we’d just created it ourselves—
“Haa… haa…”
I finally released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding.
Throb.
Because we’d performed nothing but transcendental masterpieces packed with extreme techniques, my wrists now ached
sharply.
Rubbing my sore wrists, I stood up from the piano.
And then—
“…Huh?”
Only then did I finally notice the massive crowd surrounding Jia and me like a swarm of ants.
When we first started the performance battle, there’d only been maybe ten or twenty people.
Now, the scene practically resembled a full-scale concert.
‘We’re definitely getting reported to the police for this. No, more importantly… why…’
Why was it so deathly silent despite all these people?
The crowd surrounding us simply stared blankly, as though time itself had frozen.
But then, the silence finally shattered.
“W-WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!!!”
A roar loud enough to shake downtown Mokpo exploded outward.
I stared blankly at the people cheering for us and then—
bowed awkwardly.
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP—!!
“WOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHH—!!”
“WHOOOOOO—!!”
The moment I bowed, the applause and cheers only grew louder.
‘Ah.’
At that moment, it felt as though I’d returned to the past.
Back to the days when I loved the piano most.
Back to the days when I performed concerts before huge audiences in grand halls.
I became overwhelmed by that heart-swelling emotion and couldn’t easily raise my head.
And then—
“creep-nim…!”
Kim Jia, wearing the same enchanted expression, hurried over toward me.
She grabbed my hand tightly, her eyes sparkling brightly.
“That piece just now…! Have you ever considered officially releasing it under the name creep?”