Chapter 67
"There are many ways to control emotions," Professor Lee Chan-ho's explanation was long but very clear. "Emotions are mental sensations that have a great impact on our lives. We receive important messages through them, but if we get too carried away, we may not be able to think clearly."
Soo-hyun, who needed a solution, listened intently.
"The method most people use is, first, to distance themselves from the situation. Imagine everything as if it were happening in a movie from a third-person perspective. That way you can interpret the situation objectively."
The professor held up his fingers.
"The second is not to obsess over the future. If you don't obsess over the outcome, there is no fear. Negative imagination is only useful when you want to see what you don't want to become. Third, think rationally. Fourth, don't destroy yourself. Fifth, remember that emotions have their place. It's also good to keep a diary."
"Professor," Soo-hyun asked, "what does it mean to 'not self-destruct' and for 'emotions to have their place'?"
The professor smiled.
"It means not leading yourself to a state of self-loathing. It's hard not to compare yourself to others, but in doing so, you diminish your own value. Comparison isn't for people; it's for haggling over prices. And the fifth point is the most important."
He took a breath.
"You can't use common people's methods as a pianist. You have to feel emotions more sensitively than anyone. Do you know the term 'Occam's Razor'?"
'I learned about it from the two uncles, who made me read many books.'
"The principle of economy: not to use too many logics when a lesser one can explain it."
The professor clapped lightly.
"You knew, right? It's the principle of efficiency. For police, it suggests eliminating meaningless evidence and keeping only the simplest, clearest facts. The same applies to pianists."
The professor erased what he had written on the whiteboard.
"What I just said is a very general case. You are a pianist. Erase all of that. Only the last thing, the fifth, remains."
"Does that mean emotions also have their place?"
The professor nodded, tapping the board.
"Yes, that's it."
Standing in front of the board, he spoke to Soo-hyun, who still looked confused.
"Sometimes emotions are useful. If they weren't, humans wouldn't have developed them. I'm not saying you should discard all the emotions you feel when you play. But if you think the poem you're sending isn't appropriate, discard it."
'Throw it away?'
"That's right. The remnants of emotion. The by-products that arise when the composer's emotions and yours combine. If you feel paranoid, anxious, or fearful, just let it go. If those feelings persist, not only you, but the listener will lose their reason. However, if the feelings are valid, you must acknowledge and accept them."
Soo-hyun closed his eyes and sank into thought. Professor Lee Chan-ho, seeing him, sat down and spoke softly.
"That feeling will disappear with time. So don't worry."
The Pianist's Village, Beethoven's house.
Beethoven sat at his desk, staring out the window and muttering.
'He's clearly a genius. But he hasn't reached his full potential yet. Will he have his own world and be creative, or will he just accept what he's taught? Show me, let's see if Chopin and Liszt made the right choice.'
At that moment, the sound of a piano came from outside. Beethoven, thinking he might have misheard, adjusted his hearing aid, but he could still hear it. He stood up, but then clutched his aching stomach.
"Damn…"
'It must have been Soo-hyun. He was the one who gave the order not to waste time on greetings and to start practicing when he arrived. I have to go take a look, but this damn diarrhea is causing problems.'
Finally, Beethoven, unable to control his cramps, went to the bathroom first. He listened to Soo-hyun's performance in the meantime. In an instant, his face lit up. He could vaguely hear his own music, but it was completely different from yesterday.
'I feel like stamping my feet. I want to run to the boy quickly. I won't praise him. In the world of pianists, praise can be poisonous. What is it? How did it change suddenly? You too, like me, hear the voice of God at some point? Is that what you hear? Or did humans help you? It doesn't matter what it is. This performance is the answer.'
Beethoven, who was groaning from a stomach ache, quickly cleaned himself up and ran outside, holding up his pants. In the distance, he could see Soo-hyun sitting alone on the zelkova piano stage, playing the piano. The figure of the beautiful boy merged with the snow-covered forest and became a painting.
'Beethoven himself doesn't have that appearance. I know that although my performance is praised, my appearance is quite intimidating. I'm a little jealous, but what does appearance matter when you're already dead?'
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of snow as Beethoven walked. As the performance ended, the sound became very loud. Soo-hyun, who finished playing, also noticed and turned around. He no longer looked at him with a frightened gaze, but with a calm attitude. Beethoven barely managed to contain the corners of his lips, which were rising without him realizing it. He approached him with his arms crossed and a face as solemn and serious as possible, and spoke.
"It has become clear."
Beethoven's praise ended there. But it was more valuable than any other praise. When a smile appeared on Soo-hyun's face, Beethoven looked away from his eyes and at the forest, as if he were not used to being praised.
"Look at the mountain."
Soo-hyun turned his gaze to the mountain.
"No one cries when they see a mountain. If they do, it's because their heart beats faster at its grandeur and beauty. No one cries as if someone had died. The same goes for music. If someone cries when they hear your music, it's because your performance is that good."
Beethoven put his hands on his waist.
"A pianist's performance. Who would want to go to a concert hall, in a tuxedo, only to end up crying and sniffling? I, for one, would never go back, even if it embarrassed me."
"Pfft…"
It was a compliment. It didn't sound like a compliment, but Soo-hyun clearly felt it.
"Ah, are you ready for the competition?"
"What I'm practicing now is the preparation."
"What?" Beethoven opened his eyes. "Do you think you only have to play well in this world? You have to analyze the information accurately to win. If you don't win, you're kicked out of my house."
"Haha… Yes, sir."
"Tell me how the competition is run."
"It's similar to other competitions. There are assigned pieces and free pieces. In the final round, you have to play with an orchestra."
"How did the judges judge? Did the player with the best technique win?"
Soo-hyun smiled and nodded at the sheet music with Beethoven's name written on it.
"No, whoever plays the piece most like Beethoven wins."
A look of satisfaction spread across Beethoven's face.
"Good, now we're one step ahead. When are we going to Germany?"
"In two months."
Beethoven laughed maliciously. He felt uncomfortable for some reason. He jumped up and clapped his hands, shouting.
"Alright! From today, we will increase the practice time by one hour!"
Soo-hyun's face turned sad.
'Sir, I can only sleep for three hours right now. I have to go to school too.'
Beethoven slapped Soo-hyun's shoulder hard, who had a dead expression on his face with his shoulders slumped, and then smiled brightly as he looked at Soo-hyun's curly hair.
"If you're really a genius, you deserve to be treated as such. This is my way of rewarding you. Even if it's hard, even if you feel like you're going to die, follow me. I will definitely make you fly higher."
Beethoven, who had been smiling, looked towards the mountain and his face hardened coldly.
"And I will make you a musician that even that damn bastard you will meet someday will have no choice but to acknowledge."