Chapter 68 - Insane Talent

As a violinist and professor, Julia had seen many performers. By her standards, Limon’s playing posture scored ten or less out of a hundred. It was worse than that of a child who had only just begun learning the violin.

'What?'

That was precisely why Julia couldn’t understand it. How had Limon’s posture, a complete mess only moments ago, suddenly become perfect enough to score a hundred? And why had the mere sight of it sent goose bumps over her entire body?

'All he did was get into position... Why am I getting chills?'

Julia was bewildered by her own inexplicable reaction, but Limon gave her no time to work out its cause. He merely looked satisfied at last, then drew the bow across the strings without a moment’s hesitation.

SQUEEE.

“...!”

Julia’s eyes widened. Limon was someone she had taken for a beginner—no, worse than a complete novice, given that he couldn’t even read music. Yet it wasn’t simply that the melody flowing from the violin was clearer and purer than she had expected.

'That’s...'

The way he held the violin, the angle at which he drew the bow over the strings, even the minute tremor of the vibrato produced by the joints of his left hand. She was seeing Limon play for the first time, yet his technique was uncannily familiar. Above all, the familiar melody from the violin struck Julia like lightning.

'My performance?'

Then Julia realized why his posture had shocked her: it mirrored her own exactly.

'Is he... copying the performance I just gave, down to the last detail?'

She was stunned. She had challenged him to learn from hearing her play just once, but she had thought it impossible. That he could imitate a performance he had seen only once this convincingly was beyond anything she had imagined.

'... All right, Lee. You certainly have talent.'

Julia forced herself to regain her composure. She was a professor at the Frankfurt University of Music. She had taught musical prodigies from all over the world, including some who could convincingly imitate a performance after hearing it a few times. For music-related players with abilities such as 『Human Karaoke』 or 『Automatic Performance』, it was particularly easy.

'But an imitation is still only an imitation.'

So Julia decided that copying her performance immediately without a skill was impressive, but not enough to leave her in awe. His posture and technique were identical to hers, yet traces of inexperience surfaced here and there in the melody.

'Even a monkey can imitate someone. A violinist has to perform.'

It was only natural. Limon and Julia differed in arm and finger length, flexibility, and other physical traits. Even using the same instrument, playing the same piece with the same technique, those subtle differences were bound to produce discord. And Limon, technically inexperienced and playing without sheet music, could hardly sound exactly like her. If anything, it was remarkable that he could imitate her this well.

'Still, it seems he wasn’t just boasting. I’ll admit he learned something from watching me play...'

SQUEE.

Julia flinched. Something about Limon’s playing had changed. The difference was so slight that anyone else might have missed it or dismissed it as their imagination. But as a top-class violinist—and the originator of the technique he was using—she detected it precisely. Her eyes nearly popped out.

'... Good heavens.'

He shifted the bow’s angle slightly. Moved his fingers a fraction. Relaxed the finger pressing a string. Sometimes the change was as small as an ant’s step, sometimes as light as a speck of dust.

Adjust, adjust, adjust.

With each tiny adjustment, the discord gradually vanished. At a terrifying pace, his playing grew more like hers not only in appearance but in sound. Watching him do it without breaking a sweat, Julia murmured in a daze, “He’s adapting... my technique to fit his own body? While he plays? Right now, in real time?”

* * *

SQUEEE.

Limon recalled the Bronze Age, when the seven dragons ruled, and the Age of Heroes, when Sword Masters had flourished.

'Nothing in this world is easy to learn.'

Until only a few centuries ago, it was common to treat a craft as a secret never to be passed on, not even to one’s children or disciples. The commonplace craft of a blacksmith. Scholarship capable of changing the world. Even the swordsmanship of a Sword Master. People today could scarcely imagine how many arts had died out that way. Yet that was precisely why people in those days had to be all the more desperate to learn.

'Watch, and steal.'

When no one would teach you, the accepted way was to steal an art through observation and listening, then master it yourself. People spent years waiting on others and working like slaves to discover the hidden ingredients and recipes behind a dish. They plunged their hands into molten metal to steal the knowledge of the temperature at which an alloy melted. With even paper a rarity, they memorized everything they saw.

People today might regard such methods as inefficient and foolish. But because some had stolen knowledge, learned it, and passed it down, humanity’s arts had continued to advance despite the pernicious custom of keeping them secret.

'If you want to learn, everything in the world can be your teacher. If you refuse to give up, you can steal any art.'

Limon had been one of those people. Even in the swordsmanship that had made him a Sword Master, he had stolen more with his eyes than he had learned from a teacher.

SQUEEE.

And so, at this very moment, Limon was throwing himself into stealing Julia’s performance just as he had once learned swordsmanship. Her finger movements, control of her breathing, the speed and angle of her bow—even the tiniest movements of her muscles. He reproduced with his own body everything he had observed and remembered of her playing.

For a Sword Master who could analyze an opponent’s swordsmanship and devise a counter within seconds even while fighting for his life, that part was not particularly difficult.

'The sound is still different.'

The truly difficult part began now. He compared Julia’s performance with his own, correcting his technique whenever he heard a difference in the melody.

It was an absurdly foolish undertaking: an endless series of trials and errors, like trying every number from one to a hundred for X to make 1 + X = 100.

'A little closer.'

But the Foolish Old Man had moved mountains. Long ago, he had shifted an entire mountain by digging up and carrying away one load of earth at a time. No matter how impossible a task seemed, persistence could eventually reveal the answer.

'Closer.'

More importantly, Limon had played the Violin of Deepest Black before. The cursed violin held the techniques of countless violinists who had defined their eras. Using those techniques as models, he compared them with Julia’s, making adjustment after adjustment to develop a technique that would produce the same sound as her performance.

'—Found it.'

The moment his Sword Master’s senses found a melody that matched perfectly, he fitted that technique into his playing like a cog, then sought another cog and refined his technique again.

Hundreds of times? Hundreds of millions? Or a number in the nayutas?

He divided even a single second into smaller moments, finding new ways to play and replacing them, over and over and over, until at last the process ended. Every cog fell into place.

SQUEE.

No clumsy performance riddled with discord remained. Only the melody of a top-class violinist flowed on, supremely smooth and beautiful, beyond the ability of any recording device to capture perfectly.

How much time passed? The performance, long as an eternity, came to an end. When even its last resonance faded, Limon finally lifted the bow from the violin and opened his eyes, revealing golden irises.

“Tch. Only the sound, huh?”

Whatever disappointed him, Limon clicked his tongue and reviewed his playing with a dissatisfied expression. “I can imitate the technique well enough, but without understanding the principles behind it, I can’t give it the proper depth. I still have plenty to learn.”

He had only made the sound identical. Judging his own performance coldly for failing to capture the emotion in Julia’s, he held out her violin.

“Thanks for lending it to me. It’s a fine violin.”

“...”

“So, what did you think of my playing? I tried to show you everything I learned. Did I pass?”

If she still wasn’t satisfied, he said calmly, he would take another test if she would reconsider. But Julia gave no answer. She took the violin, looking utterly lost, and stared blankly at the black-haired young man’s face.

“Why do you look so dazed? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for this face.”

Finding her reaction strange, Limon waved a hand before her eyes and muttered to himself. Only then did Julia seem to come back to her senses. She blinked several times, an indescribable expression crossing her face, before finally shouting at the top of her lungs.

“Lee, you... With talent that insane, what on earth have you been doing all this time instead of learning the violin?!”

* * *

“Are you certain?” the braided-haired man asked, sounding surprised.

The narrow-eyed young man answered flatly. “I told you I checked it several times.”

“A fool’s testimony isn’t exactly reliable, is it?”

“If you don’t trust me, then forget it! I’d rather quit the mission altogether than work with Comrades who treat me like an idiot!”

“Comrade, deserting? Are you deserting?”

“... Are you crazy, Comrade? Where did that come from?”

“Sorry. Deserters and traitors get executed on the spot.”

“What are you saying with that bright smile?! Wait, hold on! I didn’t mean it! Don’t do this over something I just said!”

The commotion—or perhaps the chaos—lasted only a short while, though a little blood flew and someone’s head nearly came off. When the misunderstanding was finally, thoroughly cleared up, the narrow-eyed young man stood panting and covered in blood while the blonde woman looked at him with disappointment.

The braided-haired man let the squabbling between his two Comrades pass without comment and sank into thought.

“I was prepared for some fuckers to interfere with us, but I never expected the one who took it to be someone this important... That’s a surprise.”

“Comrade, what are we going to do?”

“What else can we do? We report to our superiors and wait for orders.”

“Empty-headed Comrade, don’t be so quick to rule out our options. I have full discretion over this operation.”

“What do you mean? You can’t be thinking of going ahead with it?”

The braided-haired man paid no heed to the narrow-eyed young man’s shock. He simply looked at the location written in the documents the young man had brought—the place where their ‘target’ had been moved—and let the corner of his mouth rise.

“This dull mission has become rather interesting.”