Chapter 67 - The Test

Julia was a woman who followed her moods. She often acted on how she felt rather than on rules, and even for a professor, she had taught her share of unconventional—if not downright radical—lessons. But even she had never received a request for a lesson as absurd as this one.

“You want me to do nothing but play for you? And then you’ll learn on your own, Lee?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why? There’s no reason it wouldn’t work.”

As Limon answered without a care, Julia felt something snap inside her head. He refused to play for her, and he still couldn’t properly read sheet music. Even while racking her brains over him, she had treated him as her student and done her best to teach him. But the nonsense he spouted so calmly finally made her blood boil.

“... Do you think playing the violin is a joke, Lee? Or do you think there’s something wrong with my teaching? That I’m deliberately not teaching you properly?”

“Of course not.”

Unlike Julia’s icy voice, Limon’s remained perfectly calm.

“If I thought playing was a joke, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to learn. And I have no complaints about your lessons.”

“Then why are you asking me to do this?”

“Because I think this is the fastest, most efficient way for me right now.”

“Do you realize you’re dismissing teaching methods that countless musicians spent hundreds of years developing and refining as inefficient and worthless?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I know that, ordinarily, learning the basics step by step is the fastest route.”

Limon shook his head slightly. He had once been the master of the Sword Tower and taught countless disciples himself. He knew the importance of fundamentals and teaching methods refined over centuries.

“But I’ll probably be different.”

For that very reason, he knew there were occasional exceptions who didn’t fit the mold designed for an “ordinary student.” And in Limon’s opinion, a Sword Master with several centuries under his belt more than qualified as one.

“... Why add ‘probably’ to such a confident claim?”

“Because I’ve never tried it before.”

It would be too arrogant to claim a hundred percent certainty of success on a first attempt, wouldn’t it? Julia stared at him, dumbfounded, as he delivered that possibly humble remark with consummate arrogance. At last she pressed her aching temples, then spoke abruptly.

“Fine. If you insist, I’ll do it. But I have a condition of my own.”

“What condition?”

“Just once.”

Julia raised one finger before Limon, whose expression had turned curious. Looking straight at him with her deep green eyes, she repeated herself in a voice of utmost seriousness.

“I’ll play for you just once. See if you can learn anything from it. If you learn nothing, I’ll stop teaching you.”

Julia knew how unreasonable her condition was. Playing was something you learned by practicing until your fingers swelled and calluses formed. It wasn’t something you could acquire like a skill from watching and listening once.

In effect, this was a refusal—a warning to give up now if he wanted to continue learning from her. Only a madman would accept such an absurd condition. Or...

“I accept.”

“...”

At his immediate, unhesitating reply, Julia closed her eyes and fell silent for a moment. Then, with a soft sigh, she opened her case and took out an antique violin.

Perhaps it was thanks to meticulous care. Despite its centuries of age, the violin had a fresh sheen, as though it had just been made.

A Stradivarius.

Holding a treasure more precious to her than her own life—one of the three great instruments every violinist dreamed of owning—Julia checked its condition. Once she had confirmed that both she and the instrument were ready to give their finest performance, she looked coldly at Limon.

“What would you like me to play?”

“I told you. Give me your best performance.”

Julia did not bother asking if he was sure. The moment she took out her Stradivarius, she had become a performer first and a teacher second. And as a performer, she was a woman who never held back.

‘If he wants my best, I’ll give him exactly that.’

She set up her digital sheet music, made up her mind, and secured the violin beneath her chin. Then she drew the bow smoothly across the strings and began to play.

It would be the first piece Limon heard from her, and perhaps the last. It was among the finest pieces she could play, a work said to have moved more people than any other violin concerto: Opus 8, Nos. 1–4, by Antonio Vivaldi, the composer and performer who epitomized the Baroque era.

‘The Four Seasons (Le quattro stagioni).’

WHEEE

In that instant, Julia forgot everything. Limon standing before her. The condition she had set him. Where she was and who she was. Her mind emptied to a perfect blank, holding nothing but the notes appearing on the digital score and the melody flowing from her violin. In that hollow world, emptied of everything else, she lost herself in the music.

WHEE

‘Restez (maintain position).’

Music was beautiful. More complex than a human being, purer, more rapturous, and more emotional. That was why she loved to play. If she could have chosen, she would have been born an instrument rather than a human being.

That was why she had become a violinist—not because it was the instrument she played best, but because the violin let her feel most at one with it.

WHEEE

‘Simile (as before).’

They called her the Witch of the Violin because she could perform as well as a player without using skills, but to her, that was only natural. No matter how high their level or what skills they used, those who merely treated an instrument as a tool to show off their technique could never outplay her when she became part of her instrument and poured her soul into every note.

WHEEE

‘The prey is bewildered by the clamorous dogs and the noise of the guns (as though pursuing prey startled by gunshots and barking dogs).’

Julia could understand someone mocking her, but she could not tolerate anyone making light of her playing. Lee’s attitude toward music had angered and disappointed her. Now, though, she forgot even those feelings.

The digital score stopped moving. The bow gliding over the strings came to a halt. Until the very moment silence descended, she had been nothing but an instrument, pouring her soul into bringing forth the melody.

* * *

“Haa...”

Was it exhaustion from giving the performance everything she had? Or regret at leaving behind the instrument that had brought forth the melody and becoming human again? Julia herself did not know why she let out such a deep breath as she lifted the bow from the strings.

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!

‘Looks like Lee finally understands what a real performance is.’

Thunderous applause rang in her ears. Hearing the emotion in it, Julia turned toward Limon with a satisfied expression.

“I see. So this is what a top-tier musician of this era can do.”

“...?”

Julia’s eyes widened. The black-haired young man she had naturally assumed was applauding in rapture stood with his arms crossed, watching her intently. Then whose applause was she hearing? She turned around with an uneasy feeling, saw its source, and stared blankly.

“... Lee, what kind of bluebird hears music and claps along?”

“What’s so strange about it? If a gorilla can drum on its chest, there’s nothing unusual about a bird getting worked up over a sound.”

“I’ve never seen one of these supposedly common birds.”

What sort of bird was it, and how did you raise one to applaud so enthusiastically? For a moment, Julia’s mounting questions drove even the lingering thrill of her performance from her mind. Finally coming to her senses, she looked back at Limon.

“Well? Are you satisfied now?”

“Yeah. That was a fine performance. I learned a lot from it, too.”

“What did you learn?”

“What do you think? How to play the violin, of course.”

“... Lee, I’m not going to let you laugh this off.”

Julia frowned. She loved playing too much to treat a condition staked on a performance as a joke. But Limon remained as unruffled as ever.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“Trusting a student is a teacher’s virtue. Testing one is a teacher’s duty.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He gave a brief chuckle, then propped his chin on one hand and murmured to himself as though weighing something.

“Hmm. If quitting and running away amount to the same thing, I suppose I have no choice. A rough imitation should be all right...”

Apparently having reached a decision, Limon lowered his hand, scratched the back of his head, and spoke to Julia.

“Julia, can I borrow that violin for a moment?”

“... What?”

“You asked me to prove what I learned. I’m going to show you.”

“Lee, what about your own violin? Don’t tell me you don’t have one.”

“Mine’s a little tricky to use. And if I want to show you ‘exactly’ what I learned, I think yours would be best.”

If she really did not want to lend it to him, he added, she could wait a moment while he had another violin brought in. Julia’s lips trembled. He was treating her Stradivarius as something easily replaced, merely an instrument that was “a little easier to use.” Her anger hardened into stubborn defiance, and she thrust the violin at him through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Use it. But if you borrow my violin too and it turns out you learned nothing, expect a slap.”

“All right. I’ll remember that.”

Perhaps out of respect for the treasured violin she had lent him, Limon accepted it with both hands. That rare show of courtesy eased Julia’s anger a little, but not her cold stare. Her opinion of Lee had hit rock bottom the moment he asked for her violin.

‘If you think a fine instrument alone will make you play beautifully, you’re mistaken, Lee.’

Whatever Julia thought, Limon paid her gaze no mind. He simply took hold of the violin she had lent him and began adjusting his posture.

“Hmm. Our builds are different, so I can’t do it exactly the same way. Still, this should be close enough...”

He looked every bit the beginner, tucking the violin between his chin and shoulder, taking it away again, then shifting his shoulders this way and that as though adjusting for the length of his arms. Julia frowned.

‘... I knew he was a beginner, but this is too much.’

An expert could tell a great deal from posture alone. To Julia’s eyes, Limon’s was appalling. Beginner or not, he looked destined to fail—she could hardly tell whether he even knew how to play a violin. And although he could not read music, it was a problem in itself that he had not even put out a score.

‘What a waste of time.’

Worried that he might damage the instrument, Julia watched anxiously as Limon finally settled the violin into position.

Then, just as he finished adjusting his posture and spoke in a low voice—

“Good. I’ve got the gist of it.”

A chill ran down Julia’s spine.