Chapter 108: Justin's Journey III

Kath: Are you guys aware of Justin's competition? Do you have time?

Shawn: We knew, and sadly, I can't attend at this moment.

He added some sad emojis as they could not attend. Both he and Gabriel were facing major projects despite being first-years.

Ken: Support him in our stead. His not seeing this chat means he is too busy preparing.

Kenneth needs to focus on his acting training if he wants to pass this year.

Bea: Cheer for him for me as well.

Gab: I already messaged him.

And, as always, their messages were in the seen zone when it came to Harmony.

Kath: I'll cheer for him with your share. He is quite tense this time. He will go up against Wynter Morgrave again.

Ken: The time he won is still engraved in his mind, and he feels it was not entirely a win because Miss Morgrave made a mistake.

Shawn: Yeah, he has been dwelling on that part a lot.

Ken: He feels like he really did not win at all.

Kath: This competition is a lot more important.

Reading their messages, she could tell that Justin had not told them what was happening.

So, even though the messages might be long, she told them everything Justin had told her.

Shawn: No wonder he seems even more on edge.

Ken: Yeah, I tried asking him how he felt yesterday morning, and up until now, he still has not replied. The competition is in a few hours.

Shawn: Anyway, thanks, Kath. At the very least, one of us is there.

Kath: What are friends for? I'll send you updates once it is over. I can tell he won't be able to do so.

The two of them agreed with her, while Beatrice and Gabriel sent thumbs-up emojis.

…

The concert hall was silent as Wynter Morgrave stepped onto the stage.

Every movement of hers was calculated and precise, as if she had rehearsed even the way she carried herself before raising her violin.

The audience, many of them familiar with her playing, knew what to expect, flawless execution, technical mastery, and a sound so controlled it felt untouchable.

Tonight, she had chosen Zigeunerweisen (Gypsy Airs), Op. 20, one of the most famous violin pieces composed by Pablo de Sarasate in 1878. It is a virtuosic showpiece inspired by Romani (Gypsy) music, blending Hungarian folk melodies with Sarasate's signature Spanish flair.

It is a piece notorious for its difficulty.

The moment her bow touched the strings, the music took shape, delicate yet commanding, a breathtaking display of skill.

The slow, haunting introduction wrapped the audience in a spell, every note clear as glass.

Wynter played with an almost unnatural steadiness, her fingers moving across the fingerboard with perfect precision. Then, the tempo changed.

The melody ignited, bursting into rapid-fire runs and dazzling arpeggios that cascaded through the hall like a waterfall. Her bow arm remained steady, her left-hand movements sharp and crisp.

She made it look effortless.

Gasps rippled through the audience as she executed lightning-fast staccato passages without missing a single note. Some leaned forward in their seats, trying to catch every movement of her bow.

Others, musicians themselves, watched in admiration, knowing just how impossible it was to play with such mechanical perfection.

By the time Wynter reached the final flourish, her bow slicing cleanly across the strings, the hall erupted into applause. It was not just polite clapping, it was awe, admiration, and disbelief.

She had set an impossible bar.

Then, Justin Murphy took his place.

Though nervous, there was no way he would back down.

It was obvious Wynter had played her best at this moment. He may be mistaken, but she even glanced at him when they crossed paths. And her look seemed like she was telling him to go against it with all he had.

Unlike Wynter, who maintained an air of cool confidence, Justin took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and gave the faintest smile before raising his violin.

The atmosphere shifted.

His chosen piece was Ernest Bloch's Nigun, a piece that bled emotion.

Nigun is the second movement of Baal Shem, Three Pictures of Hassidic Life, composed by Ernest Bloch in 1923. It is one of Bloch's most famous works for violin and piano and is deeply rooted in Jewish musical traditions.

The first note was drawn out, heavy, vibrating through the hall like a quiet sob.

Justin played as if he were speaking through his violin, each phrase aching with longing, each swell of the melody pulling the audience deeper into his world.

There was no flawless restraint in his playing. His bow dug into the strings, drawing out raw, weeping sounds.

His vibrato wasn't just controlled. It trembled with feeling, making every note feel alive. He swayed with the music, his expression shifting with every phrase as if he was feeling each note as deeply as the violin itself.

Some in the audience gripped their seats, their hearts tightening as the music climbed to its peak.

Others wiped away tears they hadn't expected. His playing wasn't about dazzling technique—it was about connection. He made them feel every emotion in the piece, as if they, too, were experiencing the sorrow, the yearning, the desperate beauty of the melody.

And then… silence.

The last note rang out, lingering in the air. The audience remained frozen for a moment, caught in the raw emotion he had unleashed.

Then, applause. Loud. Roaring.

Two violinists. Two performances. One built on perfect skill, the other on overwhelming emotion.

The judges would have to decide. But for the audience, there was no single winner.

Only two great violinists.

This applause was enough for Kathrine to smile knowingly.

Justin had performed his best, and he had delivered his performance splendidly.

Meanwhile, backstage, Wynter watched as Justin bowed to the audience. An imperceptible smile appeared on her lips before she turned to go to the waiting area.