WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 75: A Performance He Could Never Give
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Ding, ding.
A performer in jeans and a baggy hoodie pulled low over their head awkwardly plucked at a rough guitar.
Listening to the performance, Rimon folded his arms.
‘Hmm. They’re not particularly good.’
Thanks to going around and watching all sorts of shows lately, Rimon had developed a decent ear for music.
By his standards, the performer lacked skill.
At best, they had only just moved beyond beginner level. They were even worse than the guitarist from the indie band that had made Rimon thoroughly sick of music moments ago.
‘Still, it’s not grating.’
Even so, Rimon did not turn away. He deliberately stood there with his arms crossed and listened.
This was the first performer he had seen since he started making the rounds who did not use a Skill.
Ding, ding, ding.
‘After listening to so much dogshit music lately, even this feels like it’s cleansing my ears.’
Rimon snorted.
There was no discord caused by Music Skills.
That alone was reason enough to listen to this inadequate performance.
But he could only watch leisurely until then.
“Don’t look at me.”
The moment the performer opened their mouth, Rimon’s eyes widened without him realizing it.
“I’m not lonely.
I’m not suffering.
Don’t look at me like that.”
It was a husky voice, ringing out raw without a microphone or amplifier.
Amid a street filled with every kind of noise, the voice was too quiet and far too rough to draw anyone’s attention. No one paid it any mind.
‘This is...’
As he watched the performer everyone ignored, Rimon wore an odd expression.
They were not a good singer.
The song was clumsy, as though they had written it themself.
Even their voice was neither clear nor beautiful.
Like the guitar playing, it was an immature song with more reasons not to listen than to keep listening.
Yet Rimon saw it.
The happiness on the performer’s face when they began to sing, as though they possessed the whole world.
And he heard it.
The beautiful harmony created when the merely clumsy performance blended with that unpolished song.
‘So that’s it.’
It was only half complete.
It had improved, but five plus five only made ten. Compared to masters who started at a level of fifty or a hundred, it was still lacking.
But at least in that moment, the song seeped into Rimon’s heart as clearly as Julia’s performance had.
‘So this is what it meant, to love performing.’
Something beyond technique, artistry, and talent.
The power that made a song this clumsy comparable to the performance of a top-tier violinist like Julia.
The performer sang however they pleased, ignoring pitch and rhythm. Yet that was why their emotions came through all the more purely.
Feeling his own heart respond to it, Rimon understood.
Then he smiled bitterly.
‘That’s a performance I could never give, even if I died trying.’
He thought he finally understood why his violin playing had stopped improving, as if he had hit a wall.
To enjoy performing as purely as a child and bare his emotions like that performer, he was far too old and cunning a swordsman.
He could learn, but he could not change. The better he became at hiding things, the weaker he became at revealing them.
That was what it meant to grow old.
Which was why old people always longed for and envied youth.
Rimon was no different.
‘It’s a little enviable.’
His own youth had ended in the Bronze Age.
The pure passion of these young people stirred not only envy in him, but even a dark jealousy.
‘Jealousy... It’s been a long time since I felt something like this.’
Ever since the Iron Age began, he had watched people solve everything from swordsmanship to talent with Skills, yet he had never felt jealousy, or even envy.
Even as he mocked himself for feeling jealous of a street performer now, Rimon continued listening.
“Don’t look back. There’s nothing to tell me.
There’s nothing holding me.
Look at me and smile like that.”
The performer simply played happily, singing for the sheer joy of it while wildly strumming the guitar.
Perhaps the performance was too much of a mess. Or perhaps no one could hear the song.
Other than Rimon, no one listened. Even pedestrians who briefly stopped soon lost interest and hurried on.
But the performer did not stop.
As though one audience member was enough.
Or as though performing itself was simply fun.
They kept strumming their guitar and singing, again and again.
‘What a waste.’
The more deeply the performer’s emotions came through, the more Rimon regretted the shortcomings in their playing.
Then a thought occurred to him.
If a performer who could sing like this with such crude technique received lessons from a professional instructor.
If they filled in even their lacking technique.
What kind of song would they be able to sing?
‘Who would have thought I’d have this kind of thought while listening to a song?’
Rimon smiled bitterly.
As the master of the Sword Tower, he had often regretted seeing geniuses who had not blossomed or talented people stopped by a wall in their swordsmanship.
But this was the first time he had felt regret over a talent that had nothing to do with swordsmanship, fighting, or governing a nation.
‘If it were Julia...’
If she, who loved performing more than anyone, heard this song, she would have tried whatever she could to help this performer’s talent bloom.
She had not only refused lesson fees, saying she had taught him nothing, but had even paid all his lodging expenses before leaving.
‘No, it’s pointless to think about.’
But Rimon was not Julia.
He had only learned to perform because he needed to. There was no reason for him to meddle like that.
Especially now that he knew his own playing would never improve further.
[Huh? Team Leader, you’re leaving?]
“Yes.”
That was why Rimon finally turned away.
If he kept listening to the song, he felt like he might develop a pointless attachment to it.
[The performance isn’t over yet.]
“What’s with that all of a sudden? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve left before a performance ended.”
[Well, that’s true, but...]
Perhaps because Rimon, who complained about every performance he heard, had not said a word of complaint about this song.
Yoo Na-gyeong tilted her head, but Rimon did not pay attention.
He simply started walking away.
“Huh? What’s this? Someone’s taken our spot.”
“Looks like another beginner.”
“Ah, damn. Beginners who don’t know a thing are scary brave despite having no skill. They’re total street-corner Lu Bus.”
“Well, they’re not bad for a beginner.”
“Not bad my ass. Their notes are a complete mess.”
Rimon stopped dead.
A trio carrying guitars, a bass, and a small amplifier had appeared in front of the performer and started talking.
“Hey, let’s talk for a minute.”
“Look, we’re not trying to start trouble.”
“Don’t pretend you can’t hear us. This is our usual spot, you know? So why don’t you move along now?”
But whatever the trio said, the performer did not stop singing.
As though they could not hear.
Or as though they heard but did not care.
They only kept strumming the guitar and singing with feeling.
“Tch. Guess words won’t work.”
“Hey, we said let’s talk!”
Whether they were irritated by the performer’s refusal to acknowledge them or thought speaking further would be a waste of time, the trio finally stopped talking and forcibly tried to take the guitar away.
Or tried to.
“Hey, you three.”
They would have, if two arms had not suddenly draped themselves over their shoulders.
“Just to make sure, are you currently taking a decent citizen’s property and using violence?”
‘W-what...?’
‘What is this strength? A high-level Player?’
The two older members of the trio reflexively tried to shake off the arms on their shoulders, only to be startled by their firmness, as though they were trapped in concrete.
After exchanging glances, they looked at the black-haired man who had stepped between them and forcibly put an arm around each of their shoulders.
Rimon.
“Ahem! Excuse me, sir, but I think you’ve misunderstood something.”
“We were only trying to talk. Yes, talk.”
“Hmm. Is interrupting someone else’s performance and taking their instrument without permission called talking these days?”
Rimon looked at the hands that had tried to seize the guitar and smiled chillingly.
That murderous gaze was more frightening than a hundred words. The two members unconsciously pulled back their hands and earnestly insisted on their innocence.
“That’s why we said it was a misunderstanding.”
“We only wanted to discuss the performance, that’s all. Right, Jeong-jun?”
“Y-yes.”
“Really? Then I suppose I misunderstood.”
The trio sighed in relief when Rimon readily accepted that.
“Glad you understand...”
“So what did you want to discuss?”
“Pardon?”
“What was so important that you had to interrupt someone else’s performance? That doesn’t seem like something fellow performers should do.”
Squeeze.
Rimon asked as though he genuinely wanted to know.
The two at his sides grimaced.
Despite his calm tone, the hands pressing down on their shoulders tightened, causing them a little pain.
If the pressure had been enough to leave injuries, they could have screamed. But it was only as strong as an especially rough massage, making it difficult to resist properly.
So they had no choice but to answer politely.
“W-well, as you know, this is Music Street.”
“Right. A place where anyone can perform.”
“That’s true, but all kinds of nobodies gather here, so this place became a street of noise.”
“So the performers came to an agreement. Only one team performs in each designated area.”
“...So to perform here, you have to get an area assigned by the local regulars?”
“Yes.”
Rimon frowned.
Experience had taught him what sort of problems arose from arrangements like that.
“Just in case, do you have to pay money for that assignment too?”
“Well, it’s not like you absolutely have to. But whenever you apply, people usually contribute a little according to their means as a matter of courtesy.”
“And depending on the amount, you get a good spot or a bad spot?”
“Uh, well. Officially, that’s not how it works.”
“And unofficially?”
“...”
The trio avoided his eyes.
Rimon understood their answer and clicked his tongue. In the end, even this self-governing organization of performers had surely become another rotten system run on bribes and favors.
In every era, art was one of the easiest trades from which to collect spot fees, right alongside prostitution.
“What kind of Music Street is that?”
“Even if you say that...”
“We didn’t make the rules...”
Their attitude said there was no point asking them why the rules were so absurd, since they had nothing to say and nothing they could do.
Rimon frowned instinctively.
Seeing his reaction, the trio hurriedly added an explanation.
“That doesn’t mean we forcibly take money. You can get an out-of-the-way spot like this almost for free, and the application itself is just a formality.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. As long as you have a Music Skill, they usually assign you an area.”
“If you have a rare Skill or a high level, they might even give you a good spot for cheap.”
“...”
Unless the performers were truly overflowing, one could get an area cheaply.
So the problem was the performer who had broken the rules, not them.
There were excuses in the trio’s words, but they were normally understandable.
Except for one part.
“What if you don’t?”
“Pardon?”
“What if you don’t have a Music Skill?”
“Uh...”
Was it such an unexpected question?
Or was it because Rimon’s eyes had narrowed even further?
The trio looked flustered, stammered for a moment, then answered.
“Then we usually chase them off.”
“Someone without a Music Skill wouldn’t apply to perform in the first place.”
“Why would someone without a Skill perform? This isn’t a place to play around.”
“Exactly. It was idiots like that making noise pollution that led to these rules.”
“Maybe if they paid an enormous amount of money... But someone with that kind of money wouldn’t pay it just to perform on the street.”
The trio answered uneasily, as though wondering why he was asking something so obvious.
They saw other onlookers nod at their words and wore confident expressions.
But they soon froze.
“So a person’s performance is just noise if they have no Skill, and they don’t deserve to perform on the street...”
His voice was chillingly cold.
His gaze was sharp as a blade.
Above all, the twisted smile at his lips, as though the very thought disgusted him, made them freeze.
“That’s quite a wonderful thing to say.”
As the trio swallowed dryly, Rimon asked in a low voice.
“Just to confirm, do you shit and piss all over yourselves every time you take a dump unless you use a Skill?”
Footnotes:
[1] Street-corner Lu Bu: An ironic Korean comparison for an unknown person who acts as boldly as Lü Bu, the famed Three Kingdoms warrior.
“Lu Bu” refers to the famously formidable warrior from Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The phrase mockingly compares clueless but overconfident beginners to a street-corner version of him.
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