WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 73: Try Falling in Love
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[The violin's curse just makes you good at playing, doesn't it?]
“Which is exactly why it’s a problem.”
[What do you mean, a problem?]
Yoo Na-gyeong tilted her head.
Rimon had only played the Pitch-Black Violin regularly for about a month at the beginning.
After he started taking lessons from Julia, he gradually played it less and less. Lately, he had not touched it at all.
As someone who knew better than anyone what sort of performance Rimon could give with the Pitch-Black Violin, Yoo Na-gyeong simply could not understand.
Looking at her, Rimon snickered.
“Want to hear an interesting story?”
[Come to think of it, I don't think any story you said was interesting actually was...]
“Forget it, then.”
[Hey, now you’ve made me curious. What kind of story is it?]
Perhaps being unable to resist curiosity was simply in her nature.
As Yoo Na-gyeong’s eyes sparkled with interest, Rimon spoke quietly.
“Once upon a time, there was a remarkable swordsman. He was skilled enough to be called the greatest swordsman under heaven.”
[Hmm, that opening really does sound like an old folktale.]
“One day, that swordsman obtained a sword. A divine sword that would never break, could cut anything, and killed anyone it even grazed.”
[...]
[Did Monarch-class items exist in ancient times? What kind of absurdly overpowered sword is that?]
“Don’t question the plausibility of a sword from a story. Just listen, you chicken-pigeon.”
[I’m not a chicken-pigeon! I’m a bluebird of dreams and hope!]
Whether Yoo Na-gyeong protested to defend her avian identity or not, Rimon simply scoffed and casually asked:
“So what do you think happened to the swordsman who got that sword?”
[Obviously, he conquered the world, built a harem, lived in luxury with three wives and four concubines, then got bored and went to another world to play at being a secret-overpowered protagonist, right?]
“What kind of ridiculous guess is that...?”
Rimon stared at her in disbelief.
[It’s what happened in the latest chapter of the hugely popular novel, I Alone Am a Monarch-class Player.]
“...I don’t understand why garbage like that is popular, but to give you the ending first, he was cut down in a duel with a worthy rival.”
[What? But you said he was the greatest swordsman under heaven.]
Rimon readily nodded at Yoo Na-gyeong, who looked just as baffled as he had moments ago.
“That’s right.”
[Then why did he lose? If the greatest swordsman under heaven got a divine sword too, shouldn’t he become an invincible cheat character?]
Perhaps she had become invested in the story.
Or perhaps she had some pent-up frustration of her own.
Yoo Na-gyeong indignantly denounced the faulty logic of the tale, then suddenly asked:
[Ah, was it that common cliché? Did a friend or wife steal his sword and stab him with it? Or did he fall into a trap?]
“No. He died in a fair one-on-one duel while wielding the divine sword.”
[Then why did he die?!]
“Because the sword gave him a bug rather than a cheat.”
[...]
[What does that even mean?]
“Since he had a sword that could kill someone with the slightest cut, he only used flashy swordsmanship and forgot how to aim for vital points.”
[Does it make any sense for the greatest swordsman under heaven to forget swordsmanship?]
“Swordsmanship naturally changes depending on what kind of sword you use.”
A slender sword for thrusting.
A single-edged sword meant for sharp cuts.
A greatsword valued for its heft and durability.
There were countless kinds of swords in the world, which meant swordsmanship was fundamentally developed with a particular kind of sword in mind.
In other words, if the sword changed, the swordsmanship had to change too.
[...]
[But people say a true master does not discriminate between swords.]
“That’s complete bullshit.”
[Really?!]
“Yes. The greater the master, the more they favor a famed sword suited to their own swordsmanship. Sword Saint Kamiizumi Nobutsuna was a Sword Master, yet collected more than a thousand famed swords.”
Rimon could cut a boulder with nothing but a blade of grass, yet he always carried a sword.
Why?
Because rather than struggling to use a blade of grass like a sword whenever he needed to cut something, it was far more convenient to carry a familiar sword all year round.
Likewise, an excellent famed sword allowed one to wield swordsmanship ten or even a hundred times more easily than an ordinary iron sword.
That was why masters with particularly sensitive senses became obsessed with famed swords.
“But the famed sword a master likes is ultimately one that fits their hand well, not a sword so absurdly good it is called a divine sword or demon blade.”
[Because it would ruin their swordsmanship?]
“Exactly.”
If you used a sword that cut anything, you would only use swordsmanship that ignored the opponent’s defenses.
If you used a sword that could never break, you would stop considering the blade’s durability.
If you used a sword that made you immortal, you would forget how to protect yourself.
At first, it would feel as though you had improved. But after relying only on the sword’s functions for years, your swordsmanship would inevitably decline.
Even if it did not, the result was the same.
What if the sword broke? What if you met an opponent its abilities did not work against?
Would you spend your whole life worrying about losing the sword, fighting only opponents that sword allowed you to face?
That was no longer a swordsman.
It was merely a puppet controlled by a divine sword, like the greatest swordsman in that old tale.
[...]
[So that’s why you try not to use that violin whenever possible? Because you’re afraid you’ll become like that swordsman who relied on his divine sword?]
“Well, that is one reason. If this violin becomes indispensable to me, that gives me another weakness.”
The Pitch-Black Violin was currently Rimon’s best means of melting the Constellation’s power that had seeped into his body.
If he fought the Constellations in the future, every one of them would go wild trying to take it from him.
If he lost the violin, it would become harder to melt the fragments of starlight, making it that much more burdensome to fight the Constellations.
“The main reason I am learning to play in the first place is to find a way to replace this thing. If I start relying on it while learning to play, I’d be putting the cart before the horse.”
[Hmm, that’s true.]
Yoo Na-gyeong nodded at Rimon’s uncharacteristically logical explanation, then tilted her head again.
[But if that’s only one reason, is there another?]
“There is.”
[What is it?]
“My pride.”
[What?]
Seeing the bluebird’s stunned expression, Rimon curled up the corner of his mouth.
“Cursed violin or not, it pisses me off that I cannot perform as well as a mere tool.”
[...
Team Leader, a violin is an instrument. It is a tool made to be used, not some target you were made to have a contest of pride with.]
“Exactly. This little thing has had a grand time toying with me, so shouldn’t I properly play it at least once in return?”
[Why does that sound like racing a train?!]
“Na-gyeong, people are not slower than trains because their legs are slow. They are slower because they never try to become faster.”
[Only a lunatic like you would say that! Normal people do not even have such insane ideas...!]
Smack!
[Squawk!]
“What do you mean, lunatic? Watch your mouth when you speak to your exalted team leader.”
Rimon dealt heavenly punishment to Yoo Na-gyeong’s forehead as she flailed about.
Then, leaving Yoo Na-gyeong to mutter dazedly with stars floating above her head, he crossed his arms and sank into thought.
Hmm, what am I really going to do about this?
There had been some joking mixed in, but it was true that he needed to improve his performance as soon as possible.
Rimon’s goal was to swallow up the Seven Dragons Society and gain the power to face the Constellations. There was a limit to the time he could spend training.
No, even if he had all the time in the world, it would have been the same.
Something is definitely suspicious.
Rimon stared intently at the case containing the Pitch-Black Violin.
People of this age might not know better.
But even to Rimon, who was fairly familiar with magical tools, the Pitch-Black Violin was strange in many ways.
It can melt the Constellation’s power, and for some reason, I always sense something strange whenever I play it. I cannot figure out what it really is.
It was a violin said to have been made by some priest of Muse to offer music to Muse, imbued with magic that came dangerously close to a curse.
Yet even after deliberately asking Li Qing-yu to investigate it, he had been unable to learn its precise origins.
He had even heard that the elderly person at the amusement park who had given him the violin had suddenly vanished.
Rimon could not help but find the violin deeply suspicious.
Though, come to think of it, there has never been a magical tool that was not suspicious. Still, whenever I held on to something with unknown origins, trouble always followed.
Once, he had used a cup thinking it was merely a magical tool that made liquor taste better, only to discover it was the Holy Grail and end up in conflict with a temple.
Another time, after obtaining an unidentified ring, powerful people kept begging him to sell it. Eventually, thieves began showing up at all hours.
Rimon frowned as he recalled past incidents involving suspicious magical tools.
Well, it should be fine, I suppose?
In the end, he snickered.
No one in this era would covet something that was not even an item, but merely a magical tool.
Still, time was not something he had in abundance, so Rimon decided to ask an expert for advice.
“...Lee, are you joking with me right now?”
“No. I am asking seriously.”
That unexpected question left Julia dumbfounded.
“Do you know how long you have been learning the violin from me?”
“A little under a month.”
“That’s right, barely over three weeks. And that includes the time you wasted trying to learn sheet music at the beginning.”
Julia continued with a sigh.
“But in those three weeks, you have already surpassed the level of a music conservatory student. Even among top-tier violinists, it would be difficult to find anyone who could compare in technique alone.”
That was no exaggeration.
In only a few dozen days, Rimon had absorbed every last bit of technique from Julia, who was known as the Witch of the Violin.
And that was not all.
From instructional videos to clips uploaded online.
Rimon could watch another violinist perform once and reproduce it almost perfectly, even mastering their playing techniques.
Even Julia, who had shown him the videos just in case, had been left speechless.
“And you are asking whether there is a way to learn violin even faster? Lee, do you have no shame?”
“Is this really a matter of having a conscience or not?”
“If I were not the one teaching you, I would have sued you already.”
“Sued me? For what crime?”
“For monopolizing talent.”
“Hmm, if there were really a law like that, I would have been sued many times.”
Julia gave the black-haired young man an icy stare as he readily nodded in agreement, perhaps because he knew his speed of learning the violin was abnormal.
Yet Rimon did not yield to her gaze and stubbornly asked:
“Still, I need to improve faster. Is there really no way?”
“Practice steadily and work hard.”
“What a marvelous method.”
“I am not joking, Lee.”
Julia looked at the snickering Rimon seriously.
“Honestly, there is nothing more I can teach you in terms of technique.”
In the pure technical craft of violin performance, Rimon had already reached a realm of his own.
The superhuman body of a Sword Master.
The curse embedded in the Pitch-Black Violin.
And Julia’s instruction.
All of it had come together perfectly, turning Rimon into a performer capable of handling any piece.
“That is why, if you want to improve beyond this, you need something that goes beyond simple technique.”
But to Julia, Rimon was still an empty vessel.
No matter how sturdy or beautiful, a vessel was only a vessel. For Lee to become a complete violinist, he needed to fill what was inside.
“And whether you can gain that is also the line separating a top-tier violinist from a first-rate violinist.”
“So it is ultimately something that cannot be taught.”
“That’s right.”
That was why Julia readily admitted that there was nothing more she could teach Lee.
From this point onward, it was the realm of pure talent.
Whether it was instinct that found the answer.
Sensitivity that created a thousand melodies.
Or emotion that called forth empathy from all.
Those were things one had to find, create, and fill within oneself. In Julia’s view, a teacher’s role was only to watch over their student so they did not go astray.
“If I had to offer advice, Lee, try loving music.”
“...What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Lee, you do not particularly enjoy performing, do you? You are only learning because you need it for some reason, as a means to an end.”
Perhaps because she had struck the heart of the matter, Rimon said nothing.
Julia smiled gently at him.
“Of course, you can perform without loving music. But if you can come to love performing itself...”
If Rimon had been an ordinary student, she would not have said such a thing.
But as a violinist before she was a teacher.
And as a performer whose heart had raced when she learned of his talent, Julia smiled warmly at the young man who might one day surpass her.
“Lee, you will be able to perform far better than you do now.”
That was the final lesson Julia left Rimon before ending all of his instruction and departing.
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