Reborn Beethoven - Chapter 7
Reborn Beethoven Chapter 007
4. 4 Years Old, Genius Composer (2)
What in the world is he saying?
A week later.
Along with my father and Bae Young-bin, I met two people who had come from a place called Japan.
Since my father didn't speak Japanese, he had deliberately brought my cousin along, and it seemed Bae Young-bin was surprisingly good at Japanese.
It appeared there was some kind of certification for the language of this 'Japan' place, which quite surprised me.
However, since they had brought an interpreter, Bae Young-bin had nothing to do but sit with me and eat that incredibly sweet dessert called parfait.
The parfait was quite palatable.
Extone, as it was called, seemed to be a publishing company.
The Japanese man named Nakamura, who appeared to be an employee of this publishing company, expressed his astonishment through the interpreter.
"We certainly thought we were dealing with a former professional, living in obscurity, but a 2006 birth year? I can hardly believe my eyes."
Nakamura looked at me intently.
Immersed in that 'parfait' creation, I felt his gaze and met his eyes.
His honest gaze didn't make him seem like a swindler, but one could never truly know.
People should not be trusted.
Having dealt with several who tried to swindle me in the past, I liked honest merchants but despised unscrupulous peddlers.
When I turned my head, Nakamura smiled faintly, then spoke to my father.
"Cousin."
I whispered to Bae Young-bin.
"If those two start talking about anything else, you have to tell Dad everything. Seriously. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it."
Even if he was a bit odd, I was glad to have Bae Young-bin, who, despite his young age, was surprisingly fluent in a foreign language (Japanese).
At least it meant we wouldn't be easily swindled.
"To be honest... I am also a bit perplexed. Under normal circumstances, I would immediately ask for a contract, but it seems..."
"You're suspecting that this piece wasn't composed by our child, aren't you?"
Nakamura, having heard my father's words translated, waved his hand and vehemently denied it.
"If my words offended you, I sincerely apologize. However, I hope you'll understand that it's not doubt, but merely a desire for confirmation."
"Hmm."
As my father paused meaningfully, Nakamura seemed a little flustered.
If those men weren't playing tricks with the contract, the negotiation table could be left to my father.
Although we were poor, I'd heard my father was diligent in his studies.
My mother also had a good academic background, and I couldn't understand why they were poor, but either way.
"First of all."
My father looked quite serious.
Aside from loving me too much, he was usually cautious, so there was no need for me to step in.
"I came here thinking this might be an opportunity for Dobin. Even now, I believe it would be fine for Dobin to do this kind of work after he's a bit older, so if you can't believe it, I'd rather we drop the whole matter."
Abort message.
We should be getting 100 million won, Father, you can't just give up like that! You should be thinking about getting more!
As expected, Nakamura, having heard my father's words translated, turned pale.
The gap between Extone and my father right now was whether I truly possessed that level of compositional skill.
If I could prove it, that gap would close.
'There's no helping it. A better offer might come along, but right now, we urgently need money.'
"Mister, give me some paper and a pen."
"Dobin?"
"I'm bored."
To my father, who called out to me with worry, I used boredom as an excuse.
The interpreter hastily pulled paper and a pen from his bag, and I began to write down the piece I had intended to complete this time.
"...Unbelievable."
Nakamura said something, but I couldn't understand it.
because the interpreter hadn't bothered to translate those specific words.
However, I could guess it was a remark of admiration or something similar.
Anyone with a musical education should be able to imagine the piece I was now writing in their head.
If he couldn't recognize this perfectly harmonized score, I considered him unworthy of contracting with me.
In that sense, I too was testing this Nakamura fellow.
Nakamura subtly rose from his seat and came toward me.
He probably wanted to see what he had been reading upside down correctly.
"Ah, honored father. Could it be that young Dobin is simply recalling something he's seen before?"
Nakamura's words were translated and relayed, and my father, hearing them, seemed offended and replied curtly.
"I wouldn't know about that. Dobin, is this something you made before?"
"I'm just organizing it in my head, and everything came back to me, so I'm writing it down. Ah, this part is the most important. ...This would be better."
Nakamura urged the interpreter.
He probably wanted to know what my father and I were discussing.
After the interpreter relayed a few words to Nakamura, he looked utterly shocked.
Without a word, he stared blankly at the score, like a person utterly lost.
"Hm. If you have nothing further to say, we'll take our leave."
"Wait, just a moment!"
Nakamura physically blocked my father, who was trying to stand up, and my father, asking what he thought he was doing, grew slightly angry.
At that, Nakamura bowed deeply and exclaimed loudly.
"Your child is a genius born once every thousand years. Please, allow us, Extone, to help him bring that talent to fruition. I beg of you."
The flustered interpreter belatedly began to relay Nakamura's words, and my father fell deep into thought.
'That fellow, he certainly has an eye for people.'
This Nakamura person seemed to possess considerable discernment.
A person born once every thousand years, he said.
Quite a pleasing expression.
"...My Dobin."
It was then that my father's voice, for the first time, held no hostility.
"Does my Dobin truly possess such talent?"
"He does. I have never seen such a person in my life. He is not a raw gem, but already a perfectly cut jewel. A talent greater and more beautiful than any diamond in the world."
Nakamura's eyes were utterly sincere.
My father gazed intently at him, then closed his eyes and exhaled.
Then he turned his head, looked at me, and asked.
"Dobin, do you like music?"
"Yes."
It was the most obvious thing in the world.
"...How did you say the contract would proceed?"
My father sat back down and spoke, and Nakamura repeatedly bowed in gratitude.
'Now, he'll surely handle the negotiations well on his own.'
From this point on, it was no longer a place for a 'child' to intervene, so I continued working on my paper.
[A new composition has been created. Each time a piece is completed, a certain amount of experience points accumulates.]
['väterliche Liebe (Fatherly Love)' - New]
[Overall Rating: B+]
[Completion: 91, Artistry: 94, Popularity: 71]
When I wrote the final note, the 'words' I called a notification window appeared.
By now, I was quite used to it, so I checked the scores, but they were still unsatisfying.
'Completion and artistry are fine, I suppose, but what on earth is 'Popularity'?"
How dare it evaluate the compositions of Ludwig van Beethoven, and then give a mere 71 points?
It's utterly preposterous.
Indeed, this 'God's Prank' is utterly worthless.
"...So?"
"Yes. Extone will cover all incidental costs, including production fees. Young Dobin simply needs to continue composing as he has been. As you requested, since young Dobin is still a child, if necessary, we will come to Korea to facilitate the work."
"Thank you. Hmm... The contract period is three years, you said?"
"That's correct. For three years, we will pay you 20% of the net profit after deducting album production costs from all income. Instead, as you requested, we will increase the signing bonus to 15 million yen. You may still find it a small amount, honored father, but..."
"Ah, yes, I certainly remember that explanation. And... settlements are made four times a year, you said?"
"Yes. This is company policy, so it cannot be changed, but if you wish, we can divide the payment within that month."
"And please attach all settlement documents."
"Of course, we will do so."
My father seemed to ponder deeply, then.
"And if our child ever wishes to learn something, ...or if Dobin needs anything, could we ask for your assistance?"
He spoke again.
"On the contrary, that is something we would wish to request. We will specify it in the special provisions."
Unclear whether he was satisfied with Nakamura's answer or not.
My father closed his eyes gently and became lost in thought.
The words used were not ones my mother and father typically used at home, so it was hard for me to fully understand the content of their conversation.
But I could sense that my father was meticulously looking out for something.
Then, he opened his eyes.
"...Please take good care of our child."
My father spoke with a heavy voice.
I could tell from his voice how much thought he had put into this decision, and my heart felt warm.
'A figure so utterly different from Johann.'
'...I must succeed and make this person happy.'
I vowed. And vowed again.
I didn't quite understand it, but it seemed I just had to write music, and they would turn it into something called a 'record'.
"Cousin, what's a record?"
"A CD."
"A CD?"
"Don't you know what a CD is? This, this."
When I nodded, Bae Young-bin pulled one of the 'things' from the bookshelf.
He opened the case, revealing something round and flat.
"Ah. I know it."
It was what my mother always put into the audio player when she played music for me.
To put performed pieces into something like this and be able to listen to them identically every time.
It was truly a wondrous thing.
After Nakamura's visit.
I met with a person called a producer from this place, Extone, and we discussed various things.
Perhaps because I was young, the producer didn't make many demands.
However, he wanted to know in detail what I was capable of, so I diligently answered his questions.
However, since I didn't know many words, it was hard to say whether he truly understood.
'No matter what, they're paying me, so I should treat them well.'
An artist lives for those who recognize their worth.
And 'recognizing worth' means money, of course.
Money is the best.
Moreover, our family was quite poor right now, so we were all the more desperate.
'If it weren't for my friend Ferdinand von Waldstein or Archbishop Maximilian Franz, I wouldn't exist.'
So, as long as they didn't interfere with my compositions, I ought to treat them well.
I was even willing to compose pieces they wanted, for a while, at least.
Though I abhorred composing pieces to suit others' tastes, given our current urgent need for money, I would have to endure it.
"Hmm..."
"Why?"
"Oh, it's nothing."
Fortunately, the producer could speak Korean, which made communication somewhat easier.
After I answered a few questions, he began to ponder something very seriously.
'Why is he acting so annoyingly serious?'
"Dobin, did you learn this from someone?"
There was no way I could answer that.
Even at four years old, I already understood this world a little.
Though the Republic of Korea was full of strange and wonderful things, being reborn was still an unreal story.
If I were to say who I had studied under, or who had influenced me, I would undoubtedly be treated as a crazy child.
"Bach, Mozart."
That was as much of an answer as I could give.
I couldn't elaborate.
Though I had personally studied under Franz Josef Haydn, that... hadn't been a very good relationship.
Mentioning the two great figures who had inspired me would have to suffice.
When I subtly raised my head, the producer muttered in disbelief.
"To be able to create music to this extent with no proper teacher, just by listening to pieces."
It seemed there was some misunderstanding, but it wasn't particularly important.
The producer, shaking his head, looked once more at the answers I'd written and the score.
"It really does feel like Beethoven, you know."
he said.
"Beethoven?"
It was a name I had continuously been curious about.
I still had no idea who he was.
"Yes. Beethoven. Do you, by any chance, like Beethoven?"
"Who is Beethoven?"
"Hm? You don't know Beethoven?"
The producer rose from his seat, sat at the piano, and played my 14th piano sonata.
His playing was tolerable.
There was still much he needed to learn.
"He's the one who composed this."
"...What?"
What utter nonsense was this?
I couldn't very well say, 'I composed that!' so all I could do was stare at the producer with a bewildered expression.
"Indeed, you're just a child."
The producer chuckled softly, then came and sat in front of me again.
"Beethoven, you see, was a truly great musician. Anyone involved in music—no, anyone at all—would know him."
"So who is Beethoven? The person who composed that piece just now is Ludwig van Beethoven."
"Beethofen?"
"Beethoven. Ludwig van Beethoven."
"Ahhh, I see."
"Huh?"
"Hahaha. So Dobin has been studying German, has he? Yes, that's right. That's the correct pronunciation. Indeed, indeed."
"...?"
"Ludwig van Beethoven. Your compositions strongly resemble his style, that's why."
No. These people.
Is there no limit to their impudence?
All the people in the Republic of Korea know me as 'Beethoven'?
When I asked, the producer explained the situation.
I couldn't accept it, but from what he said, it didn't seem like something I could change.
I trembled with indignation.
Anyway.
"So I compose like this person... 'Beethoven'?"
"Yes. Very much alike. Ah, it's a compliment."
This person.
He is trustworthy.
Comments