Lawrence had held the same thought for a long time.
‘Classical music has stopped.’
Some might say that was not true.
Acoustics had grown more sophisticated, and performance techniques had advanced beyond comparison with the past. He believed that if a professional musician from two hundred years ago came to the modern era, they would not even make it onto the final stage of an international competition.
The tens of thousands of hours of training accumulated since childhood were a privilege that performers of the past had never enjoyed.
Beyond that, in every respect—from instrument-making to recording technology—one could confidently say that the present was the finest period in the history of classical music.
But what about the music actually being performed onstage?
Still Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Mahler.
Nearly every major orchestra performed their music. The central programs of competitions were also works by composers from hundreds of years ago.
Of course, he could not say that was wrong. They had been great, and they were still figures worthy of respect. But when asked whether it was desirable for them to become ‘the final destination of classical music,’ he had no choice but to shake his head.
Since the twentieth century, music theory had evolved brilliantly.
Tonality had been dismantled, rhythm subdivided, and even timbre—the very identity of a performer—was being scientifically analyzed.
Stochastic, algorithmic, electronic, and spectral theories. Microtonality.
Music had now escaped the age when it was merely a product of the senses and gained a far wider range of possibilities.
‘Then make proper use of them!’
He wanted to shout those words at contemporary classical composers.
They had abandoned the public far too easily. Whenever he saw people who wore the difficulty of their music like a badge of honor, he could not help sighing.
That was why orchestras had no choice but to return to the masterpieces of the past. At the very least, they could give audiences safe, dependable emotion instead of boredom.
He looked at Seoha, who was talking with Winter.
A mathematician, and a composer.
The bond between these two disciplines ran deep in history. Even without going as far back as Bach, there were countless examples of mathematicians such as Iannis Xenakis and Olivier Messiaen who had turned toward music.
“New York Philharmonic would be best, wouldn’t it?”
Lawrence had made up his mind to present Seoha’s piece on the grandest stage possible.
Symmetry, transformation, sequences, inversion, reflection.
They were all techniques that music had accumulated since the twentieth century.
Would this be what it felt like if Bach came back to life? Seoha had brought them to life in the most sophisticated way imaginable.
‘At last.’
His music looked resolutely toward the future without denying the past. With the addition of the second movement, it had even acquired a musical narrative, emotional impact, and mass appeal.
Lawrence felt as though he had finally heard the right answer to a question he had been waiting decades to have answered.
* * *
Christmas came again, along with the year-end season.
“Oh my! Where did all these come from?”
Miyeong was spreading the cards across the table one by one.
They were elegant invitations embroidered with gold leaf.
[New England Korean Association]
[Boston Society of Scientists and Engineers]
[An Evening for Writers]
[Year-End Reception Hosted by the President of MIT]
[Joint Ivy League Year-End Salon]
[Math Night]
Seoha was being invited everywhere.
The Korean community in particular had shown an unusual amount of interest.
Messages from people who wanted to meet Seoha in person at least once kept coming in—year-end and New Year’s events, scholarship ceremonies, youth mentoring sessions, and more.
Of course, Miyeong and Cheolho politely declined on Seoha’s behalf, citing the fact that he was still a minor.
“Seoha, do you have any plans for the end of the year?”
“I’m not sure…”
Seoha was decorating the Christmas tree with his younger sister.
“Oppa, this one’s so pretty!”
“Yeah! Give it here.”
Seoha took the ornament Seoeun handed him and carefully hung it on the tree.
Seoeun placed a small star on top as the finishing touch. When Cheolho flipped the electrical switch, the tree lit up with twinkling lights.
“Now Santa Claus will be able to find us!”
Seoeun giggled as she ran around the house, delighted just looking at it.
“Are you going somewhere, Mom?”
Miyeong’s eyes had been fixed on one card for some time.
‘An Evening for Writers.’
It was an invitation sent only to writers who had achieved a certain level of sales, whether domestically or abroad.
“Do you want to go?”
“Ah… No, I mean, why would I…”
It was the only invitation among all the cards addressed to her personally.
Miyeong hurriedly turned her head away.
“Go ahead. I’ll play with Seoeun.”
“Would that be all right?”
“It’s the end of the year. Mom and Dad should have at least one appointment, too.”
When had he grown so much?
Miyeong gently stroked Seoha’s hair.
“Can’t I go, too?”
Seoeun, who had been running around without a care, asked with shining eyes.
Seoha wanted to give the two of them a year-end vacation.
“Seoeun and Oppa will go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Where would you like to go? You choose.”
Rustle—
More than ten cards were spread across the table.
Most were invitations to mathematics-related events, but he had heard that quite a few people brought their children along. Perhaps his sister could make some friends there.
“I want this one!”
Seoeun picked up one of the cards.
“Huh?”
With an expression of surprise, Seoha opened the envelope.
* * *
‘Math Night’ was a year-end event hosted by MIT’s Department of Mathematics.
It was a gathering where students, faculty, and external guests all came together to close out the year.
The plan had been for everyone to enjoy light refreshments while discussing ongoing research and exchanging new ideas, but this year, the atmosphere was decidedly different.
“Seoha’s really coming?”
“He hardly ever networks.”
“That’s why it’s such a big deal. If you get close to him, couldn’t it help you somehow later on?”
Talk of Seoha could be heard throughout the corridors.
To the freshmen in particular, Seoha was practically a legendary figure. It was no coincidence that competition for admission to MIT’s mathematics department had been especially fierce this year.
When Seoha arrived at the event, he was holding Seoeun’s hand tightly.
Seoeun wore a pure-white dress with a small daisy in her hair. It was an outfit Miyeong had prepared with great care.
“Oppa, there are so many people here!”
Seoeun looked around.
This year, the mathematics department had prepared an event more than twice the size of the usual one.
The reason was simple.
There were simply too many achievements they wanted to show off to the outside world. Under Dean Whitman’s direction, invitations had been sent out in every direction. The result was today’s enormous gathering.
“Oh! That’s Oppa!”
Seoha looked where his sister was pointing and then clutched his head.
It seemed Dean Whitman’s enthusiasm had gone a little too far. The department’s achievements from the past year had been organized and displayed along the walls.
In the most prominent spot at the center, beside a large photograph of Seoha, bold words had been written:
‘Proof of the Smale Problem,’ ‘Proof of Minimum Energy Theory.’
“Yeah.”
Seoha gave an awkward smile and turned his gaze away.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes!”
As befitted an event with a generous budget, the hall was filled with substantial food. Seoha sat his sister in a chair and went to get them something to eat.
“Huh?”
Seoeun leaned over to look beneath the chair. It was too tall for her feet to touch the floor.
She began swinging her legs and singing.
“My feet can’t touch the floor, floating like clouds. Eating cake with Oppa, yum yum—”
To Seoeun, this place was a marvelous wonderland.
A splendid hall, glittering lights, people dressed in beautiful clothes, and delicious food everywhere. More than anything, she liked that everyone was paying attention to her brother.
“Look over there! Yu Seoha is here.”
“It really is him. Should I ask for an autograph?”
Seoeun pretended to look elsewhere while pricking up her ears to listen to the people talking. Her shoulders rose with pride.
“Here, eat this.”
Clink.
Seoha set down a plate.
A drink in a small cup and strawberry cake. He had not forgotten to bring chocolate-chip cookies, Seoeun’s favorite.
Seoeun took a bite of the cookie and put some cake in her mouth.
“It’s delicious!”
A look of happiness spread across Seoeun’s face.
Seoha was too busy greeting the people who approached him to pay much attention to anything else. Sujeong, who noticed that he was occupied, had come over at some point and was playing with Seoeun.
“Unni, your dress is so pretty!”
“Thank you.”
Sujeong covered her mouth as she laughed. She was wearing a custom-made pink dress prepared especially for the occasion.
“Ahem—”
When Whitman’s voice rang out, the hall fell silent.
One by one, people turned their attention toward the stage.
“Thank you all for coming.”
He smiled as he looked around the hall.
“This year has been truly remarkable for MIT’s Department of Mathematics. To be perfectly honest, I can confidently say that the achievements of our faculty and students have been the greatest of my tenure.”
Clap, clap, clap!
Applause burst forth.
“Of course, there have been years in the past when we produced Fields Medalists, and years when important papers were published. But never before has the world watched our department as closely as it has this year.”
He paused for a moment, then pointed toward the wall.
“The Smale Problem. Minimum Energy Theory.
Two monumental challenges have been solved in our department. Engineering schools are lining up to collaborate with us, one after another.”
Ha ha ha!
Laughter and applause erupted once more.
The freshmen and returning students wore faces full of pride. Since Seoha’s enrollment, the mathematics department had entered an era of prosperity.
Researchers inspired by Seoha had begun producing a flood of high-quality papers.
Proposals for external research and joint projects had increased noticeably.
At admissions presentations, more students were flocking to the mathematics department than to any other.
Whitman made no effort to hide that fact.
“We are living through a very rare period. A movement like this does not arise by chance. It becomes possible only when people, environment, and courage come together.”
His gaze turned toward Seoha.
“You might ask what courage has to do with mathematicians, but challenging a difficult problem requires tremendous courage.
“With that in mind, I would like to introduce the mathematicians who have shown the greatest courage this year.”
Everyone looked toward one person.
“Yu Seoha and Team Apex.”
Clap, clap, clap!
Theo, Sri, and Sujeong followed Seoha onto the podium with awkward steps.
Whitman shook hands with each of them in turn, then handed the microphone to Seoha.
“It’s an honor. Thank you very much.”
He bowed deeply.
Looking ahead, Seoha saw countless mathematicians gathered together.
He could see scholars from Harvard, Stanford, Yale, and Princeton, as well as faces from Oxford and Cambridge far across the ocean.
It was like the International Congress of Mathematicians in Paris in 1900, which he had seen only in photographs.
On impulse, Seoha spoke into the microphone.
“We must know. And we shall know.”
Ha ha ha!
David Hilbert’s famous words.
Perhaps everyone had the same thought, because laughter broke out here and there.
To mathematicians, Seoha was a mysterious existence.
Ever since he proved Minimum Energy Theory, people had begun saying that even Gauss and Pascal at the same age paled in comparison to him.
Above all, there was no difficult problem he had attempted and failed to solve so far.
Naturally, everyone began to harbor expectations.
‘Could he perhaps take on one of the Millennium Prize Problems? If it’s Seoha, might he even be able to solve those infamous problems?’
That atmosphere could be felt throughout the hall.
Seoha offered a few formal words of thanks and was about to step down. Then a mathematician standing behind him called out in a loud voice.
“Have you decided which difficult problem you’ll solve next?”
Seoha, who had been descending from the stage, stopped abruptly.
He exchanged glances with Theo, Sri, and Sujeong in turn. Theo nodded with a solemn expression.
Step, step, step.
Seoha walked back to the podium and stood before the microphone.
“The Riemann Hypothesis.”
For an instant, the hall fell silent.
“That’s what I said at the beginning.”
Seoha smiled faintly.
“We must know. And we shall know.”
An elderly professor seated in the front row slowly rose to his feet. Then he looked at Whitman and nodded.
“He certainly is the most courageous mathematician.”
Clap—
His applause became the starting signal.
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
“That’s incredible!”
“You can do it!”
Applause and cheers exploded throughout the hall.
And so Seoha and Team Apex officially threw down the gauntlet to the most famous difficult problem in history.