Devil's Music

December 1882.

St. Petersburg, Russia.

The city was called Leningrad until Leningrad died in 1924, but everyone in the city was named the old St Ferersburg name. December in Russia was very cold. The gun circles around as it walks through a desolate dirt field.

“Another dream? Why is it so cold in my dreams? Ahhhhh!”

When I looked for a place to avoid the cold as I opened my collar, I saw several buildings far away. Although not high, the closer it seemed to be a metropolitan area, more and more buildings were seen, and the dirt floors were taking the form of roads. Often as I walked through many roads, I saw rare people.

The tall, tall Westerners were walking around wearing thick clothes and furry hats with their heads down. People shrugged as much as they could to withstand the fierce blade breeze and walked to the ground. Gun walked between those people and entered between the big building and the building. Usually there is more wind between the big buildings, but the wall is not high enough, so there is less wind.

The gun looks a little better and touches a steel streetlight standing on the side of the road.

“Steel streetlights, maybe a long time ago. It's too sad. I don't think it's European.”

The iron lamp was placed on a black pillar with a diamond-shaped back, but it was not dark yet, so it was not illuminated.

I looked around and saw a huge building unlike other surrounding buildings. Although it was a rectangular building with many arched windows and colorful decorations on the exterior of the building, it did not appear to be a typical residential building. The case approaches the building in a way that is not easily seen.

“Wow, it's huge. Is it because other buildings are relatively small? It looks even bigger. ”

I looked around the surrounding building in awe of the gun, and I heard two men arguing from a distance. I was interested in the sound of a quarrel, as if it were a music story, sitting on a bench a little away from where the two men stood and grinding my ears.

A man who appeared to be in his 50s standing in front of an iron bench a little distance said in an excited tone.

“Pyotr! Why did you come all the way out here to compose a Russian pentathlon? Are you trying to dishonor our St. Petersburg conservatory with such low quality music? ”

A man in a brown winter suit with a single black perm curled up in his hand and shouted, a 40-year-old man with a gorgeous beard on his all-white head who was listening said,

“Mr. Anton. Haven't you heard the corset I wrote? Do you still think it's poor music? ”

Anton raises a hand at his waist as if to be amazed at Pyotr's words.

“This is not Russian folk music. Peter, this is the era of Western European music. ”

Pyotr steps up to Anton and says,

“The trend is only trendy, Anton. Russian folk music is never low quality music. ”

Anton sighs deeply and looks at the sheet music he left in his hand.

“This storm you submitted. Do you know how excited I am about this? What would the other professors think? If you're gonna do this, go to the mosque where Nicolai is! You and our St. Petersburg music are so different in color! ”

As Peter looks at Anton with his sad eyes, he sighs, holds the sheet music in his hand, and leaves. Pyotr stands there looking at the sheet music in his hand for a long time.

The gun overheard two people talking and stole a clean tart, but when he looked around, he looked around and looked around, he was furious and stunned.

Pyotr sees something like that, smiles and approaches the case.

When Peter approached, he couldn't help but get up and say,

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Just as I was walking by, I could hear the voices of those who had gotten louder...”

Pyotr raises his right hand as if it were fine.

“It's okay. Never mind. May I sit down for a moment? I'm a little dizzy. ”

The gun hurriedly rubs the bench with his hand.

“Of course! Here, have a seat. ”

Pyotr sat down, smiling, elbows on his knees, and wrapped his hands around his forehead. Pyotr sighs a few times, sweeping his face down with his hands. After taking a quick look at the case, he talks.

“You still look like a teenager. Are you a student here? Oh, that can't be right. You look like you're in your late teens, but if you're a student here, you've been studying for over a decade, so I wouldn't know. ”

I waved my hand like it wasn't a gun.

“Oh, no. I was just passing by. ”

He turns his head again as if to say so.

“I see. That's a relief. I didn't notice any embarrassment to my subordinates. Do you mind if I leave here soon anyway? Haha”

He looks back at the case as if he suddenly remembered it, then chews off the face for a long time and says.

“Well, if you don't mind, sir, He looks Asian, right? ”

You nod as if you've been shot, and your eyes open wide as if Peter were surprised.

“I've never seen an Asian in St Petersburg before. I've seen Asians in Moscow called considerations, and they look different from you. He had a low nose, small eyes, small height. Are you unusual? Or is someone from the consideration peculiar? If you'll excuse me, I apologize in advance for not encountering many Asians in my life. ”

I waved my hand as if it wasn't a gun, looking at Piotr speaking politely.

“No, there are a lot of Asian people who look like you said. But as everyone here looks different, so do the Asians. ”

Pyotr nods, scratching his back head and smiling.

“I see. Some people in my country are short, some are big, some have low noses. On second thought, I feel like I asked a stupid question, haha.”

Pyotr smiled and said.

“Ah, the birth name is too late for me. It's Piotr Ilich Tchaikovsky. ”

Gun smiles with Pyotr, and his eyes flutter.

“Eh, eh. Yes???? Mr. Tchaikovsky?”

I tilted my head to see Pyotr's surprise.

“Do you know me? Oh, so you've been to the theater? But you have quite a lot of stages. ”

Pyotr smiles, smiling as he falls frozen with nothing to say.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm just a normal person. Seeing that you know me, you must come to the concert often. So if you're not an expert, you have enough musical opinions. Can I ask you a favor? ”

Pyotr gives me the sheet music in his hand and says,

“You can read music, right? Can you take a look at this song? ”

I saw the sheet music with a puzzled look on my face when I received the sheet music.

Peter looks at the sheet music and asks.

“Oh, your name? ”

The case raises its head more brightly and says:

“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Kim Gun.

Pyotr nods, smiling, and gestures as if to keep looking at the sheet music.

The musical notes were hand-drawn on the misdirection, but unusually they were marked in green, red and white. Gun raised his gaze more curiously at Pyotr.

“Oh, I don't know much about cornstarch, but I don't know. I guess I'll just have to play it myself. ”

Pyotr takes the sheet music again with a bitter look on his face and says,

“I see. I understand. So you're a musician, and if you're not a composer, it's going to take a little bit more time to look at the first sheet music and see the overall content. ”

Gun looks at the sheet music in Peter's hand and asks.

“By the way, why are there so many colors of notes on the sheet music? Is that your signature?”

Peter pauses and stares at the gun. Suddenly, when Peter sees himself, he's anxious to make a mistake. Pyotr looks at the case for a long time and stops talking.

“You sound like him. ”

I was anxious to wait for Pyotr's words, and I opened my eyes wide to Pyotr's words.

“Him? What do you mean?”

Peter looks at the sheet music and says,

“You can see the color in the notes. I had a child who told me that. ”

You hold out the sheet in Pyotr's hand as if it meant something to you.

“You just said what you saw. If you look here, 16 words are green from the fourth sentence. And then 32 are white, and then eight are red. Can't you see?”

He gives a slight nod as he looks at what Pyotr is doing.

“Perhaps you should live inside the monster of music, too. For the record, I only see black notes. ”

After he finished speaking, he sat up and looked up at him.

Peter rolls the sheet back into his side and pushes his left hand forward.

“I think I have a connection. I guess it's my destiny to let you two meet. If you have a moment, would you mind? ”

The gun stood up on the bench and asked.

“Yes? Who? ”

Pyotr turns around and walks forward.

“The child I just told you about. A child with eyes like yours that see the color of notes. ”

The gun hurriedly chases after Pyotr as he starts walking.

“Yes? The color of the note? Are you telling me you really don't see him? ”

Pyotr said, looking at the case behind him.

“Yes, I don't see it. I didn't believe her until I met you that the notes on the sheet were colorful. But I also remembered the child pointing to the sheet of music and saying, from the fourth sentence, 16 words look like green notes. So he wasn't lying after all. ”

The gun looks embarrassed and stands next to Pyotr, pointing to the magnificent building.

“He's in that building. ”

You can see the angled building that looks like an opera house from where Pyotr is pointing. Pyotr looked at the matter and said with a serious look.

“His name is Sergey Rahmaninov. A young genius from St. Petersburg. ”

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