Chapter 57
—
Victor Kosolin.
Once hailed as the pinnacle of artistic excellence in the capital.
But after the rise of Anton Tilburg, his prominence gradually declined.
At some point, he began referring to himself as a scholar rather than an artist.
For a time, he was viewed with pity as a tragic figure forced off the stage.
However, it was from this point that his true ascension began.
It was nothing short of ironic.
Victor’s academic enthusiasm and progressive mindset truly soared at the academy.
He felt it too.
“You seem happier now as a researcher than when you were a performer, Professor.”
When his fellow professors said this, Victor honestly couldn’t refute it.
He realized he was more skilled at interpreting existing works than creating new ones.
And he found joy in doing so.
Of course, he still composed music occasionally.
It was something he had done his entire life, as natural as breathing, so he couldn’t completely let it go.
That said, he no longer started from a blank slate as he used to.
Instead, he drew inspiration from Anton’s compositions, borrowing harmonies and experimenting with melodies to create variations.
The response was.
“Did you compose this piece, Professor?”
Remarkably positive.
Even Anton, the original composer, did not withhold praise.
“To interpret the Canon in this way—truly impressive.”
“The original work is so excellent that any variation would naturally turn out great.”
And now.
Victor stepped onto the stage to present his own reinterpreted version of the Canon.
It began with a thunderous low note.
If you were to split the piano keys in half, he didn’t even glance at the high-octave section on the right.
While most people praised the Canon for its bright and elegant melody.
Victor had a different perspective.
‘The essence lies in the harmony.’
He spread out those harmonies, pressing the keys rapidly with his left hand.
Broken chords, arpeggios.
He built a melody on a foundation of deep bass tones.
Once again, he introduced his own interpretation.
Harmony, after all, is the coexistence of two different notes, and moving toward a pleasing progression is the essence of piano performance.
This was a truth he had realized through years of research.
There was no need to strictly follow the original melody; simply finding complementary notes within the harmonies was enough to create a complete piece.
The lips of the freshmen and other audience members in the hall slowly parted.
They clearly knew the Canon.
But.
Something was different.
It felt familiar yet unfamiliar.
It was as though they had heard it before, but no distinct memory surfaced when they tried to recall it.
After all, the Canon and Victor Kosolin’s rendition only shared the same roots, diverging entirely afterward.
It was no wonder they found it perplexing.
Regardless.
“Is it just me, or does he seem more skilled now than when he was an active performer?”
“Do you think just anyone can be an academy professor?”
“It’s not just the skill; the music itself is absolutely captivating.”
Victor’s experiment was a success.
While reinterpreting the Canon, he preserved its essence, enriching and transforming it into a more captivating sound that mesmerized the audience.
The original work surfaced in their minds, but simultaneously, they were struck by something entirely new.
That mix of the familiar and the novel was a refreshing shock.
Everyone seated, listening to Victor’s performance, began to look at him with newfound reverence, thinking, “This is what it takes to be an academy professor.”
***
“…Such an original interpretation. Hearing it like this, the Canon feels like a completely different piece.”
Erdi, his face full of astonishment, asked me.
“I agree.”
My impression was similar.
That is the power of Victor Kosolin.
Performance is much like cooking.
Take soup, for instance.
For someone cooking for the first time, even making the soup itself can be a daunting task.
Once they improve, making a delicious soup becomes relatively easy.
As they continue to progress and reach a point where no further improvement seems possible, what happens next?
They start experimenting with the soup.
Adding this and that, trying out unique approaches.
Sometimes in bizarre and unconventional ways.
At this stage, the soup becomes something entirely different, retaining only the name.
This is the hallmark of mastery.
Turning the soup into a muddy brown concoction, serving it not in a bowl but in a flowerpot, and even garnishing it with petals on top.
Victor has reached that stage.
He doesn’t just imitate; he skillfully adds his distinct colour through variations.
Whether this is a habit or a result of his research, it is likely the latter.
Before my emergence, he had still been composing music.
Experience cannot be underestimated.
Moreover, his theoretical knowledge is exceptional.
While Erdi shows some talent for arrangement, he lacks the ability to completely transform a piece to his liking.
The talents bestowed upon performers differ for each individual.
Victor, after all, is recognized at the academy as an authority on Anton Tilburg.
He must have undergone grueling effort.
Perhaps he even understands my compositions better than Erdi or I do.
That would explain how he can quickly grasp the underlying intent, utilize all his knowledge, and ultimately recreate the piece as his own.
He is truly an incredible person.
After a while, I finished listening to Victor’s performance.
“Erdi, get ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was time to introduce the second professor.
***
Victor Kosolin pressed the final piano key with a lively touch and rose from his seat.
Cheers erupted from the audience.
“Wow! I can’t believe I’ll get to learn piano directly from Professor Kosolin!”
No one had anticipated this turn of events.
In the capital, Anton Tilburg.
In the north, Victor Kosolin.
The prevailing assumption was that the two would create separate factions, forming a competitive relationship between the academies.
However.
Defying all expectations.
Victor and Anton had come together in the same place.
Not as rivals, but as colleagues.
The audience’s hearts swelled with emotion.
Still overwhelmed by the recent performance, they struggled to form coherent words.
At that moment.
The dean began to speak.
“Professor Victor Kosolin!”
Applause burst forth.
“And now, I will introduce the second professor.”
The previously lively theatre quickly fell silent.
Standing at the edge of the stage, the dean slowly scanned the auditorium, filled with new students.
“For many years, we have been trapped in the preconception that only the noble can carry the flame of art.”
The crowd hung onto the dean’s words, momentarily silencing themselves.
Then, quiet murmurs began to ripple through the audience.
“Today, I wish to introduce someone who will break past that boundary.”
The secretive murmurs transformed into curious questions.
“What does that mean?”
A new student stood up, raising their hand.
The dean, however, felt no need to answer directly.
They would all know soon enough.
“Let me introduce Professor Erdi Villette. Though he comes from a commoner background, his extraordinary talent and profound knowledge will undoubtedly guide you to greater heights.”
“…”
As soon as the words were spoken, the murmurs grew into a buzz.
The most vocal discontent came from noble family heads who had accompanied their children to the ceremony.
“A commoner as an academy professor…?”
“Does this make any sense?”
“Anton may be young, but as the eldest son of a count, his appointment is understandable. But entrusting my son to a commoner?”
“No matter if it’s a branch academy, this feels like a disregard for us.”
Faced with such an incomprehensible situation, the attendees could not hide their confusion.
What silenced the uproar was a single statement from the dean.
“This is a certificate of achievement for Professor Erdi Villette.”
The dean unfurled a scroll overhead.
“It bears the signatures of numerous prominent individuals.”
Then, they began to read the names one by one.
“Count Friert Haverland, Count Julian Tilburg.”
Up to this point, there was little reaction.
It was to be expected.
As Anton’s closest associates, their absence from the list would have been more surprising.
“Next, Countess Iolin Seneca. From the distinguished southern family, she officially recognizes Professor Erdi’s abilities.”
A faint murmur of surprise began to spread through the audience.
“And Duke Gerold Montella. A long-time patron of the academy, his signature is also on this document.”
“Is it really the Montella Duke I know?”
“No way.”
“Are you saying he signed it himself?”
The confusion intensified.
At the same time.
By this point, they could no longer deny it.
If Duke Montella’s name was on the list, its significance could not be ignored.
The audience grew more excited.
Yet again, it was the dean who brought order to the increasingly noisy theatre.
“Finally, Her Highness Crown Princess Elize Flovitz has also signed.”
“…”
“This signifies Her Highness’s personal recognition of Professor Erdi’s accomplishments.”
Some nobles exchanged glances, nodding to each other.
Eyes that had previously shown distrust and suspicion were now filled with warmth and certainty.
Of course, some still struggled to accept the situation.
The appointment of Erdi Villette, a commoner, as an official professor at the academy was a groundbreaking event that challenged traditions and beliefs.
And so.
It was time for the final act.
From the darkened stage, a man walked forward and bowed toward the audience.
Brown hair and blue eyes.
Humble yet clean attire.
He approached the piano and sat down.
—
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