WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 68: Insane Talent
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As both a violinist and a professor, Julia had seen many performers.
By her standards, Rimon’s playing posture scored at most ten out of a hundred.
It was worse than that of an elementary school student who had only just begun learning the violin.
‘What is this?’
That was precisely why Julia could not understand.
She could not understand why Rimon’s disastrous posture from moments ago had suddenly become a perfect hundred, as though measured with a ruler.
Nor could she understand why merely seeing it had raised goosebumps all over her body.
‘He only fixed his posture... Why am I getting chills?’
Julia was bewildered by her body’s inexplicable reaction.
But Rimon gave her no time to figure out the reason.
He simply looked satisfied at last, then slid his bow across the strings without the slightest hesitation.
Giiing.
“...!”
Julia’s eyes widened.
She had thought Rimon was merely a beginner. No, considering he could not even read sheet music, he was less than a complete novice.
But it was not merely because the melody flowing from the violin was clearer and purer than she had expected.
‘That...’
From the way he held the violin, to the angle at which he moved the bow across the strings, to the faint tremble of vibrato used to control pitch through the joints of his left hand.
It was Rimon’s first performance before her.
Yet his technique was terribly familiar.
More than anything, the familiar melody flowing from the violin struck Julia like lightning.
‘My... performance?’
At that moment, Julia realized why she had been shocked when Rimon assumed his posture.
It was because his posture was exactly like hers, as though he were her reflection in a mirror.
‘Don’t tell me... Is he copying the performance I just gave?’
She was stunned.
She had told him to try learning it after hearing it once, but Julia had never believed it would actually be possible.
Yet he had seen her performance only once and was imitating it this convincingly. She could never have imagined it.
‘...Yes, Lee. You certainly have talent.’
Julia forced herself to regain her composure.
She was a professor at the Frankfurt University of Music. She had taught musical prodigies from all over the world, and some had been able to imitate a performance convincingly after hearing it a few times.
For Players with music-related Skills such as 『Human Karaoke』 and 『Auto-Performance』, something like that was especially easy.
‘But an imitation is still only an imitation.’
That was what Julia thought.
It was impressive that he could immediately copy her performance without a Skill, but not something to marvel at.
Rimon’s posture and technique were identical to hers as he played, but traces of clumsiness remained here and there in the melody.
‘Even a monkey can imitate. A violinist must perform.’
It was only natural.
Rimon and Julia differed in everything from the length of their arms and fingers to their flexibility and other physical traits.
Even if they played the same instrument, piece, and technique, those subtle differences were bound to create discordant notes.
Much less could Rimon, technically inexperienced and playing without even looking at sheet music, sound exactly like her.
Even copying her this well was remarkable.
‘Still, at least it seems he wasn’t simply boasting, so I can admit he learned something from watching me...’
Giiing.
Julia flinched.
She had sensed something strangely off in Rimon’s performance.
It was a difference so slight that anyone else would have missed it or dismissed it as imagination.
But as a world-class violinist and the originator of the technique Rimon was using, Julia recognized the change perfectly.
That was why her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
‘...Good heavens.’
He adjusted the angle of the bow slightly.
He shifted the position of his fingers a little.
He loosened the fingers pressing the strings.
Sometimes by an ant’s stride, sometimes by the weight of a speck of dust.
Adjustment, adjustment, adjustment.
With every minute adjustment, the discordant notes gradually vanished. Not only his posture, but even his sound was becoming terrifyingly similar to hers at incredible speed.
Watching Rimon accomplish this without shedding a drop of sweat, Julia muttered blankly.
“He’s... modifying my technique to suit his own body? While playing, in real time?”
* * *
Giiing.
Rimon recalled the Bronze Age, when the Seven Dragons ruled.
And the Age of Heroes, when Sword Masters had flourished.
‘There is nothing in this world that can be learned easily.’
Until only a few centuries ago, techniques were considered things not to be passed on to the unworthy. It was common for people to withhold them even from their children and disciples.
Common blacksmithing techniques.
Tremendous fields of learning that could change the world.
Even the swordsmanship of Sword Masters.
People of this era could not imagine how many techniques had been lost that way.
But that was precisely why people of that era had to be more desperate to learn.
‘Watch, and steal.’
If there was no one to teach you, the common sense of the past was to steal techniques and master them yourself through sight and sound alone.
They would wait on someone for years and work like slaves to learn the ingredients and recipes hidden behind a dish.
They would plunge their hands into molten metal to learn the temperature at which an alloy melted.
Paper was precious, so they watched and memorized everything.
To people of this era, it might seem inefficient and foolish.
But because there had been people who stole, learned, and passed on such knowledge, humanity’s techniques had continued to advance even under the evil practice of refusing to pass knowledge on to the unworthy.
‘If you wish to learn, everything in the world can be your teacher. If you do not give up, you can steal any technique.’
Rimon had been one of those people.
Even the swordsmanship that had made him a Sword Master contained more that he had stolen with his eyes than learned from a master.
Giiing.
That was why, at this moment, Rimon was giving his all to steal Julia’s performance, just as he had when learning swordsmanship in the past.
The movement of her fingers, the control of her breathing, the speed and angle of the bow, even the slightest movements of her muscles.
He recreated in his own body everything he had seen and remembered of Julia while she performed.
For a Sword Master who could grasp an opponent’s swordsmanship and devise a countermeasure in seconds even amid a life-or-death battle, it was not especially difficult.
‘The sound is still different.’
What was truly difficult began now.
He compared Julia’s performance to his own, correcting his technique whenever he detected a difference in the melody.
It was absurdly foolish work.
Like repeatedly trying every number from one to a hundred for X in order to make 1 + X equal 100.
‘More.’
But as the saying went, the Foolish Old Man moved mountains.
Just as that old man had eventually moved a mountain by digging up and carrying away clods of dirt, even a task that seemed impossibly distant could yield an answer if pursued steadily.
‘More.’
More importantly, Rimon had experience playing the Pitch-Black Violin.
The cursed violin contained the techniques of countless violinists who had defined an era.
Using those as samples, he compared them with Julia’s technique and adjusted little by little, creating a method that could produce the exact same sound as her performance.
‘Found it.’
The moment a Sword Master’s senses found a perfectly matching melody, he fitted that technique into the performance like a gear. Then he found another gear and altered his technique again.
Hundreds of times.
Or hundreds of millions of times.
Or a nayuta[1] times.
He divided even a single second, repeatedly finding and replacing new techniques. Again, and again, and again, until the work finally came to an end.
The moment every gear fell into place.
Giiing.
No clumsy performance full of discordant notes remained.
Only the melody of a world-class violinist, smoother and more beautiful than any audio equipment could perfectly capture, flowed with solitary grace.
How much time passed like that?
The performance, which had seemed as long as eternity, ended.
When even its lingering resonance had faded, Rimon finally lifted the bow from the violin and opened his closed eyes, revealing golden irises.
“Tch. Only the sound, huh.”
Whatever disappointed him so much, Rimon clicked his tongue with an unhappy expression and muttered as he reviewed his performance.
“I can imitate the technique well enough, but without understanding the underlying principles, it doesn’t carry the proper depth. I still have much to learn.”
He had only reproduced the same sound.
Coldly judging that he had failed to capture the emotion contained in Julia’s performance, Rimon held out the violin to her.
“Thanks for lending it to me. It’s a fine violin.”
“...”
“So, how was my performance? I tried to show as much as I could of what I learned. Do you think I can get a passing score?”
If she was truly dissatisfied, he would even take an additional test, so she should reconsider.
Rimon spoke as calmly as ever.
But Julia gave no answer.
She merely accepted the violin with a dazed expression and stared blankly at the black-haired young man’s face.
“Why do you look so vacant? It can’t be that you fell for this face.”
Perhaps she looked especially strange.
Rimon waved a hand before her eyes and muttered to himself.
Only then did Julia seem to come to her senses.
After blinking several times, she made an indescribable expression before finally shouting.
“Lee, you... With talent that insane, what have you been doing all your life instead of learning the violin?!”
* * *
“Are you sure?”
The braided man sounded as though he found it unexpected.
The narrow-eyed youth answered him decisively.
“Didn’t I tell you I checked it several times?”
“An idiot’s testimony has no credibility, you know.”
“If you don’t trust me that much, then quit! Rather than work with comrades who treat me like an idiot, I’d rather quit the mission altogether!”
“Comrade, desertion? Desertion?”
“...Mad Comrade? Why are you pulling that out all of a sudden?”
“Sorry, deserters and traitors are subject to summary execution.”
“Why are you saying something like that with such a cheerful smile?! Wait, wait! Don’t make such a fuss over something I only said!”
It was a commotion, or perhaps utter chaos.
For a brief while, blood was spilled and a head nearly came off.
At last, after barely clearing up the misunderstanding without anyone dying, the narrow-eyed youth stood there panting, covered in blood. The blonde woman watching him wore a disappointed expression.
Ignoring the squabbling of his two comrades as though it were nothing, the braided man sank into thought.
“I expected there would be bastards who interfered with us, but I didn’t expect the one who took it to be such a big shot. How unexpected.”
“Comrade, what do we do?”
“What else? We report to headquarters first and wait for instructions.”
“Empty-headed Comrade, don’t narrow the possibilities so much. The authority to act at our discretion in this operation belongs to me, after all.”
“What does that mean? You mean to press on?”
The braided man paid no attention to the narrow-eyed youth’s shock.
He merely looked at the location to which their target had been moved, written in the documents the youth had brought, and curled up the corner of his mouth.
“A boring mission has become quite interesting.”
Footnotes:
[1] Nayuta: a traditional Buddhist term for an unimaginably vast number.
Nayuta is a traditional Buddhist numerical term for an unimaginably vast number.
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