I Became a Plagiarizing Composer in Another World Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

“Suddenly?”

I opened the door at the sudden knock, and there stood Count Haverland.

It wasn’t my first time seeing him.

Our estate had always had a close relationship with his.

But.

It was unprecedented for him to come up to the second floor to see me directly.

Ignoring my father’s awkward expression behind him, I asked what brought him here.

“Count Haverland, what brings you here?”

“Have you ever thought about performing in a solo recital?”

“Suddenly?”

 

.

 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Your playing was louder than I expected.”

“It’s fine.”

I waved off my father’s apology.

It was my fault for not considering soundproofing.

Anyway.

The reason the two of them came to see me was simple.

As I mentioned, the sound of the piano had reached the drawing room downstairs.

Count Haverland, who had been visiting, happened to hear it as well, and he liked it so much that he insisted on meeting me.

“Your playing is excellent.”

“No, not at all.”

I responded humbly to the Count’s compliment.

“By the way, I didn’t recognize that piece. Was it one of Victor Kosolin’s compositions?”

“No, this is M-”

…Mozart… but he wouldn’t know that.

He’s from Earth, and this is another world.

“Actually, it’s a piece I composed myself.”

“Incredible!”

The Count clapped in response to my blatant lie.

I wouldn’t get caught, so it was safe, but was it really something to be this shocked about?

I thought everyone here only liked Victor Kosolin’s mediocre performances.

“I’ve never heard such a beautiful melody in my life! Your name is Anton, right? Let’s head to the theatre and organize a solo recital right away! I’ll sponsor you, so don’t worry!”

“Please, hear me out.”

It seemed like the Count had been overwhelmed by the brilliance of Mozart’s piano sonata.

They say great works transcend time, but apparently, they transcend worlds too.

“This piece wasn’t created to be performed for an audience.”

“Do you understand how irresponsible that is?”

“Pardon?”

“A noble has responsibilities.”

He then began to preach about the concept of noblesse oblige.

“And what is that responsibility? It’s sharing what you have! Displaying your talents and contributing to the advancement of culture is one of the duties of a noble!”

“…You’re right, I suppose.”

I couldn’t argue with Count Haverland’s sparkling eyes.

The music in this world is terrible.

That’s a fact.

Random notes strung together without any basic technique or creativity are called hit songs, and worthless musicians are praised as masters.

But if I were to introduce Mozart’s sonata in the heart of the capital, as the Count suggested?

It would surely have a profound impact for the better.

Just from the reactions of my father and the Count, I could tell.

It’s only hypothetical, but many musicians could be inspired by the piece, awakening their own dormant artistic abilities.

If that happens, better music and better musicians would emerge, and the level of performances at the theatre would rise as well.

 

“And!”

Lost in thought, I snapped back as the Count spoke again.

“You owe me a debt.”

“A debt?”

My father suddenly paled.

Debt? Could it be…?

 

***

 

“Did you borrow money from the Count?”

“I was just so happy you’d taken an interest in the piano.”

“Is this piano really that expensive?”

“It cost 200 gold coins.”

“…”

You could have told me beforehand.

If I’d known, I wouldn’t have begged for it.

Two hundred gold coins? That’s about a year’s living expenses for an average commoner family.

In modern terms, it would cost tens of millions of won.

Who in their right mind would ask their father for a hobby that costs tens of millions?

 

“I really don’t have anything to say if people call me reckless.”

“It seems like it will be hard to refuse.”

“…I guess so?”

Since the money was borrowed from none other than a count, there was no avoiding the hierarchical relationship that formed, one where my family had no leverage.

Judging by the Count’s personality, he wouldn’t treat me like a slave, but still.

“You won’t be able to refuse the offer of a solo recital.”

“I was already thinking positively about it, anyway.”

Cultural progress is something I want more than anyone else.

In fact, I’m grateful he made the offer first.

By releasing good music, I could create a foundation and market for even better music to be born.

“However, I have one condition.”

 

***

 

“Did you hear? There’s a new performer at today’s recital?”

“What? Not Sir Kosolin?”

The theatre was as lively as ever.

Noblewomen and young ladies, dressed to the nines, took their seats, followed by gentlemen and noblemen who greeted one another with handshakes.

In the midst of this bustling atmosphere, rumours spread like wildfire.

“I heard that the performer is sponsored by the royal family.”

“By the royal family? Could it be that a prince is performing?”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful!”

“Shh! Be careful mentioning the royal family’s name! What if someone overhears you?”

With the sharp rebuke of an elderly duke, the chatter among the ladies ceased as the curtain on stage began to rise.

 

“Huh?”

“What’s this?”

Usually, the performer would appear, bow to the audience, and immediately begin the recital.

But not today.

On stage, behind the raised curtain, was another translucent curtain.

All that could be seen through it was the faint silhouette of the piano and the performer.

The audience murmured in confusion, but suddenly, a flowing melody filled the air, silencing the noise in an instant.

 

***

 

“Miss, have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

Lea Dressel, the eldest daughter of Duke Dressel, was sitting leisurely in the garden of the estate near the capital, reading a book.

Her maid approached with excitement.

“A new performer debuted at the theatre, and the response was tremendous!”

“Tremendous? What do you mean?”

Lea asked.

She was a huge fan of Victor Kosolin.

She never missed one of his solo recitals and even spent her own money to sponsor him.

But this time, another performer had taken the stage, so she hadn’t bothered to attend the theatre.

“What are you talking about?”

Reading Lea’s puzzled expression, the maid continued her explanation.

“Some countesses even fainted. The performer’s skill was incredible, but they said the music sounded like the song of an Angel.”

“That’s blasphemy.”

“I apologize.”

The maid bowed her head in repentance, but Lea asked her to continue.

“So? Tell me more.”

“Apparently, the performer didn’t reveal their identity. As soon as the performance ended, they left without even greeting the audience.”

“They didn’t reveal their identity? Haha! It’s probably Sir Kosolin. There’s no one better than him in the capital.”

“Well, actually… Sir Kosolin publicly announced that it wasn’t him.”

“…Really?”

 

Then who could it possibly be?

Lea’s thoughts were racing.

As far as she knew, no one in the empire was as skilled as Victor Kosolin.

“Noble ladies fainted, and they said… what? The voice of an Angel?”

She had no interest in some unknown newcomer’s performance, but with her maid speaking like this, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

“When’s the next recital?”

“There isn’t one scheduled.”

“Ugh!”

Lea clenched her fist in frustration.

Her maid was used to seeing this side of her.

‘She’s always like this when it comes to music.’

Somehow, the maid felt guilty, as if she had sparked this fire.

 

***

 

Mozart was the world’s first plagiarist.

When he was 14, he listened to Gregorio Allegri’s sacred music at the Sistine Chapel in Rome just twice and copied it perfectly.

At the time, the score was a top-secret document closely guarded by the Vatican, yet it was effortlessly stolen by a mere 14-year-old boy.

In that sense, me plagiarizing Mozart’s piano sonata and spreading it in this world might have been inevitable.

A plagiarist composer copying the work of another plagiarist composer.

Even the title sounds splendid.

Anyway.

My father, Baron Julian, called me early in the morning.

When I entered the drawing room, Count Haverland was there as well.

“Come on in!”

“Shouldn’t I be the one welcoming you?”

The Count spread his arms wide, as if he were about to embrace me.

I wasn’t fond of being hugged by middle-aged men, so I politely declined.

“By the way, Anton, do you know how well your recital was received? People are eagerly waiting for the next one.”

“…Really?”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t revealed your identity.”

“That’s a relief.”

I was fine with performing Mozart’s music, but revealing my identity made me uncomfortable.

“Is there a reason you’re hiding it?”

“I don’t want the attention. A performer should only worry about performing.”

In truth, becoming a famous performer would lead to sponsorships from powerful families, and I might even get invited to the palace to meet the Royal Family.

Becoming the top scholar at the academy would be easy, too.

It’s a fast track to elevating my status.

There’s no reason to refuse.

But every blessing comes with a downside.

If that happens, I’d have to give up my carefree life as Anton, the eldest son of the Tilburg family.

And then what?

Just thinking about the attention I’d get from the nobles makes my skin crawl.

I’d be dragged to every ball and gathering, treated like a Court Jester.

Even dealing with my father and Count Haverland’s excitement is exhausting enough.

If possible, I’d like to live a bit more quietly.

“When shall we schedule the next recital?”

The Count interrupted with a question.

“Pardon me for asking, but is there any rush?”

“Not really. It’s just that we should strike while the iron’s hot.”

Though he said it wasn’t urgent, his mischievous smile showed he was eager.

“Give me some time. I’m planning the next piece.”

I can’t keep performing Mozart’s sonatas forever.

Now that I’ve decided to help develop this world’s culture, I need to spread as many masterpieces from Earth as I can.

One step at a time.

“Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

The Count asked curiously.

Instead of answering, I pointed out the window, where the crescent moon was faintly shining between the branches of the garden trees.

 

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