I Became a Plagiarizing Composer in Another World Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

The Grand Theatre in the Capital.

The gazes of the most distinguished nobles were focused on the centre of the stage.

There was only one reason they had gathered here — the recital.

A young pianist was performing a solo.

I couldn’t help but wonder, why is it a piano and not a harpsichord? But oh well, whatever.

Maybe in this world, the piano was invented earlier.

But man, this performance is painfully boring.

Not only that, but the melody is strange.

There is no harmony or technique to be found, and expecting any emotion or intention would be asking too much.

It’s at the level of a three-year-old banging away on the keys without a care.

The fact that this is an official piece with sheet music is mind-boggling.

What’s even more ridiculous is seeing the young noble ladies in the audience shedding tears over this poor excuse for a performance.

“What do you think?”

My father, Baron Tilburg, asked.

“It’s boring.”

“Looks like you still lack refinement. You’ll get used to it as you listen more.”

“…Is that so?”

Like hell I’ll get used to it.

There’s no way I’ll ever find emotion in something worse than a nursery rhyme.

 

***

 

I was in a car accident on my way home from work.

I thought I was going to die, but when I woke up, I was in another world.

The first few months were strange, but I got used to it.

The family I belonged to was a baronial household that managed a small estate near the capital.

Anton Tilburg.

That was my name.

“Anton? Would you join me for a concert?”

“That again? I’ve told you, I’m not interested.”

This man is Julian Tilburg, my father.

He had been dragging me along to concerts frequently lately.

“Once you enter the academy, you’ll have the chance to socialize with other noble children. I can’t have my son showing a lack of refinement!”

He probably intended to broaden my horizons and knowledge by exposing me to various forms of culture, but there’s no way listening to that awful music would enrich my soul.

Of course, the problem was that I was the only one who thought so.

So here I was again, dragged to the theatre by my father.

The young noble ladies, elegantly dressed, and the young men escorting them — the scene looked more like a social gathering than anything else.

A little while later, a young man stepped onto the stage.

This was Victor Kosolin, the most renowned musician in the capital.

He politely bowed to the audience, then took his seat at the prepared piano.

A single clear note.

Up to this point, it seemed decent enough.

But soon, the childish melody followed.

‘This is exactly why I didn’t wanna come.’

What a trashy performance.

In this world, music appreciation is considered the most refined of hobbies.

And since the theatre tickets are expensive, it’s mainly the nobles who enjoy this form of entertainment.

Honestly, I had been excited at first.

I liked listening to classical music before I died, too.

I had even gone to the trouble of paying extra for tickets to recitals by Cho Seong-jin or Yiruma, which were notoriously hard to get.

There was a time when I thought music was the only thing that could console me.

But my first concert in this world shattered all my excitement.

At one point, I even thought that all these people were conspiring to trick me.

But whatever.

“What a beautiful performance!”

“Bravo!”

The noble ladies cried out.

Seriously, what about this performance is beautiful?

The piano isn’t even properly tuned, so it’s full of dissonance.

Of course, dissonance, when used properly, can become a great melody.

Even masters like Chopin and Liszt incorporated it into their scores.

But that was because they had reached a level where they could freely use dissonance.

This man’s performance, on the other hand, is just a meaningless string of notes.

This is an insult to the piano.

It doesn’t even deserve to be called classical music.

There is no doubt that this world’s music culture is utterly wrong.

And I can’t stand the confident expression on Victor Kosolin’s face.

If Krystian Zimerman were here, he would have gone mad, demanding that the man’s wrists be chopped off with an axe.

But once again, I am the only one who thinks this way.

The moment Victor’s performance ended, the cheers erupted.

 

T/n: Krystian Zimerman especially known for his performances of compositions by Mozart, Chopin, Brahms and Beethoven.

 

The noble audience all stood up, clapping in unison.

Is this really the most popular performance in the capital?

‘If Cho Seong-jin played the Polonaise here, these people would faint.’

Would fainting even be the worst of it?

 

T/n: Seong-Jin Cho is a concert pianist

 

Considering these people are crying over this trashy performance, some might even drop dead from heart attacks.

 

I left the theatre and returned to the mansion.

“How was the recital, sir?”

The butler, Theo, who had been waiting to greet me, asked.

“I thought my ears were going to rot.”

“Your words make me curious to hear it for myself, sir.”

“No, don’t be curious. Really, you’ll regret it.”

This wasn’t music that healed the soul; it was music that planted a sickness in it.

 

I skipped dinner and went straight up to my room.

I had no appetite.

‘If I could just hear Mozart’s Sonata once more, I’d be satisfied.’

Nothing more, nothing less.

Just Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 16.

The first movement, Allegro.

Honestly, when I was alive, I never paid much attention to the piece, but today, I missed it so much I could cry.

It must be because my ears had been corrupted by that awful recital.

There’s no doubt about it.

 

Nietzsche once said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

 

T/n: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche was a German classical scholar, philosopher, and critic of culture, who became one of the most influential of all modern thinkers

 

Indeed.

My life was starting to feel like a mistake.

 

“Wait a minute.”

I can listen to it.

Instead of relying on a trashy music expert like Victor Kosolin, I could just play it myself.

This world has pianos.

If I can get my hands on one, I can easily replicate Mozart’s Sonata without sheet music.

After all, it’s a simple piece composed for beginners, and I still remember the basics I learned back when I got slapped on the hand at piano lessons.

But why did those teachers hit kids while teaching anyway?

‘I was the one paying for the lessons.’

Anyway.

 

Driven by the desire to hear Mozart’s Piano Sonata again in this world, I went to see my father.

“What is it?”

“Please buy me a piano.”

“As expected! You must have enjoyed the recital today after all!”

I couldn’t bring myself to agree with him, so I just nodded vaguely.

 

Thanks to my father’s misunderstanding, I was able to get the money without much trouble.

Even though we’re the lowest-ranked nobility, a baronial family is still noble, after all.

Soon, a pretty decent grand piano was delivered to my room.

 

Just as I was about to press the keys, the butler, Theo, handed me a book.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a collection of sheet music by Sir Victor Kosolin. I thought you might need it.”

“…Thanks, I guess.”

Not that I needed it.

But I was curious about what it looked like, so I flipped through the pages.

 

“As expected.”

The sheet music in this world isn’t that different from the modern ones I know.

There are staves, notes, and even expression markings like staccato and accents, all properly notated.

The problem is in the execution.

What’s the point of having the techniques if you can’t use them correctly?

Their understanding of harmony is lacking.

The melody and structure built upon that shaky understanding of harmony were truly astonishing in the worst way.

“Can it really be this bad?”

Is this how Developers feel when they look at nonsensical code generated by AI?

If I keep looking at this, I might have a stroke.

 

I shoved Victor Kosolin’s, or whatever his name was, sheet music to the side and sat down in front of the piano.

I began translating the melodies in my head into music, one note at a time.

 

***

 

Baron Julian Tilburg took a deep breath.

‘I thought he wasn’t interested in music.’

 

He had been worried for a long time.

Music is considered the pinnacle of noble culture.

It’s a topic that never fails to appear at social gatherings, and it’s even a required subject at the academy.

That’s why he had been bringing Anton to recitals, thinking it might help, even if just a little.

“It’s boring. I don’t even know what kind of music this is.”

His reactions had never been good.

But he didn’t give up.

Everyone has a first time, and if he kept listening, he would eventually be drawn in.

That’s what music does.

Besides, he couldn’t let his son be embarrassed in front of the other noble children at the academy.

Music is the pinnacle of culture.

One’s knowledge of it greatly influences public perception.

And now, his efforts had finally borne fruit.

The son who used to groan at the mere mention of a recital suddenly asked for a piano.

Pianos are expensive.

Even for nobles, such an expense can cause a considerable blow.

In the end, he had to borrow money from Count Haverland, the lord of the neighbouring estate.

 

‘But!’

He made sure not to show any of this in front of Anton.

Now that his son was finally taking an interest in music, it was a blessing he couldn’t afford to turn away.

‘Even though I’ve accumulated some debt, it’s my responsibility as a father to handle that.’

 

Just then, a melody began to reach his ears.

It was unmistakably the sound of piano keys being struck.

Julian leaned back on the sofa with a satisfied smile, listening to his son’s performance.

“He’s already begun practicing.”

Count Haverland, who was visiting the barony, remarked.

Julian laughed and replied,

“It’s all thanks to your support, Count. I’m finally seeing the results of taking him to those recitals.”

“…”

“…”

Both men tilted their heads.

“But what piece is this?”

“I’m not sure either.”

He had asked Theo to fetch the sheet music of the most famous musician in the capital, Victor Kosolin.

Julian knew Victor Kosolin’s compositions inside and out.

He had attended many of his performances, so it was no surprise.

But the music he was hearing now was completely unfamiliar.

 

“This is the first time I’m hearing this.”

“But it’s quite good, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

Though it was unfamiliar, Count Haverland had a point.

The melody was soft and bouncy, with a lively rhythm.

The structure of the piece was stable.

The fresh playing technique and the smoothly flowing C major scale were impressive enough to draw admiration.

 

“It’s not a joke. This is truly excellent. Even I, who am far less knowledgeable about music than you, can tell this is an exceptional performance.”

“Haha! You flatter me!”

Julian shook his head modestly at the Count’s words, but his expression was hard to conceal.

 

The performance grew more intense.

Before they realized it, both men had their ears trained on the piano music coming from the second floor, completely forgetting their noble decorum.

 

“What’s your son’s name again?”

“Anton… Anton Tilburg.”

“Well I must meet him.”

 

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