Ian looked at me and asked, “Are you nervous?”

“…Yes.”

I was waiting backstage for my cue to go on. Ian, who had followed me this far, was supporting me. My voice shook as I asked him, “Ian, what if I collapse while singing?”

What if I have another panic attack? This could very well be my last performance. Ian had permitted this, even knowing that the Keppel family’s reputation might suffer. The director had visited the estate frequently to give me private lessons for today. I didn’t want to let down my friends, who were probably out there in the audience, cheering me on.

“It’s okay. Just claim it was acting,” he said.

“Don’t say such nonsense,” I replied, half-amused, but Ian looked serious.

“You’ve taken the medication Loren prescribed specifically for today, so you’ll be alright. But if you do collapse, I’ll run up and make it look like part of the act.”

“…How exactly?”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll hold you and pretend to cry?”

It was a crazy idea, but oddly plausible. If Ian Keppel was on stage crying, everyone would be shocked. If he later claimed it was all an act, who would dare question him? Before I knew it, I’d forgotten my nerves, chuckling at the thought. Ian took my hand and said, “You’re going to do great.”

“….”

“Even to someone as clueless as me, you looked like a goddess, singing with such beauty.”

Surprised by his sudden comment, I gazed at him, stunned. Misinterpreting my silence, he furrowed his brow and added awkwardly,

“I mean, not just your looks, but your voice, the whole atmosphere. I mean… you sing so well that it seems perfect…”

“I understand, Ian.”

I smiled, grateful for his clumsy attempt to encourage me. I wanted to respond with a flawless performance. Reluctantly, I released Ian’s hand and stepped onto the stage.

Finally, the curtain rose. Though the audience was shrouded in darkness, I could tell it was packed, every gaze fixed on me. As much as I had prepared, my chest tightened with anxiety.

The performance had gone well so far. If I could just finish my part without incident, the night would be perfect. The aria was relatively simple, the lyrics hastily written, yet they resonated with me. I only needed to sing well this one time. But as the audience murmured, I found myself frozen, unable to open my mouth.

A creaking sound drew my gaze to where Ian stood, poised as if ready to leap onstage. He was serious about what he’d said earlier? Alarmed, I looked straight ahead and took a deep breath, quickly starting my song before Ian made an entrance.

~~My story now comes to an end.~~

The first line, an a cappella recitative, was followed by the conductor’s cue and the orchestra’s soft accompaniment.

~~But a story you don’t yet know is about to begin.~~

Unconsciously, I glanced up at the Keppel family’s box seat. My mothers were waving with joy and cheering for me.

~~I wish it were a dull story, so boring it sparks no curiosity.~~

In another box, Benjamin was sitting with Lord Oran, doing something together. The shimmering light seemed like some kind of magic circle, though I couldn’t make it out from a distance.

~~A story that can’t become an epic or even a lyric,

A song no one would care to sing.~~

I hadn’t wanted to look, but in the Royal Box were the Emperor and Empress. Celia was holding their baby, and Prince Arthur, hanging on the railing, was scolded by Cade.

~~It may not be a perfectly happy story,

Sometimes tearful, with days of sighs,

Yet, in hindsight, filled with lovable moments.~~

Though unseen, I knew Bill, Isabella, and Greta were out there, cheering for me.

~~A story with no great conflict or intense crises,

But one that brings a smile now and then,

Realizing that’s all I ever wanted.~~

And my friends were likely watching over me too. Even if most of the audience was mocking me, I knew now that there were people scattered among them who were rooting for me.

~~A story you don’t yet know is about to begin,

One that flowers and clouds will remember, that the moon and wind will sing.~~

The song ended. I exhaled in relief and, barely holding myself together, bowed and left the stage. I had no idea how I’d managed it. Ian took my hand, and I sank down.

“Liv, are you alright?”

“Yes, I just feel relieved.”

“Would you like a hug?”

“No. Just… hold my hand like this for a moment.”

Ian squeezed my hand tightly and said, “You did well.”

“….”

“The applause says it all.”

Strangely, only after Ian’s words did I start to hear the cheers and applause directed at me. The sound swelled, drowning out my own heartbeat. As I looked around, I noticed that even the other cast members backstage were clapping for me. With Ian’s help, I stood. The director, with a look of deep gratitude, said to me,

“It was a beautiful aria. I always regretted not writing a piece just for the Duchess, but now I feel content.”

“Thank you, Director.”

Just as the troupe had promised, each member began to hand me a single flower. I realized this was their silent farewell. I held the bouquet close and walked out of the opera house.

****

“Play it already!” Eloise urged.

“Why… why isn’t it working? This…,” Benjamin muttered, fumbling with the dark slate, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Lord Oran scolded him.

“My formula was flawless. Surely it’s the Count made a mistake?”

“No, it was working just fine yesterday,” Benjamin protested, though his expression was frustrated. He had promised me a video recording of my performance, but now it seemed like either he had failed or the slate was malfunctioning. Ian asked,

“You said it played yesterday?”

“Yes, it definitely worked then…”

“Then it should work now. If it doesn’t, make it work. You can do it.”

Benjamin shot him a puzzled look, then, with renewed focus, fiddled with the recording slate. The magic circle on it flickered, and suddenly, my voice filled the room.

“It worked!”

But it was only a partial success—while the audio played, the video remained stubbornly blank.

~~My story now comes to an end.~~

My voice trembled slightly but thankfully stayed on pitch. I sighed in relief, pressing a hand to my chest. Lord Oran took the slate with a serious expression.

~~But a story you don’t yet know is about to begin.~~

“Do I need to handle this too?” he muttered. When he infused the slate with his own magic, my image finally appeared on its dark surface. Though not as sharp as videos from my past life, my form shimmered and wavered slightly, almost sparkling.

~~I wish it were a dull story, so boring it sparks no curiosity.~~

Is this how Lord Oran sees me? Perhaps this was what Isabella meant by “sparkling.” I looked like a fairy from a fairytale, softly glowing.

~~A story that can’t become an epic or even a lyric,

A song no one would care to sing.~~

“It’s beautiful…” Eloise whispered in awe. Embarrassed, I felt relieved that my appearance on screen didn’t look strange or laughable—thanks to what seemed like Lord Oran’s unintentional “auto-enhancement” effect.

~~It may not be a perfectly happy story,

Sometimes tearful, with days of sighs,

Yet, in hindsight, filled with lovable moments.~~

As I reached the high notes, I started to shine even brighter. Lord Oran explained, “The Duchess’s magic suddenly surged at that moment…”

~~A story with no great conflict or intense crises,

But one that brings a smile now and then,

Realizing that’s all I ever wanted.~~

The brightness was almost blinding, my shape becoming nearly indistinguishable. Uncomfortable, Lord Oran chided me, “Perhaps you could control your emotions a little?”

~~A story you don’t yet know is about to begin,

One that flowers and clouds will remember, that the moon and wind will sing.~~

The audience crowded around the slate, leaning in, then burst into applause. I raised a hand to my flushed cheek. My mother, her voice thick with emotion, said, “It’s a shame we can’t see it more clearly, but it’s truly beautiful, Liv. This must be kept as an heirloom.”

Her words made me freeze in surprise, and I struggled to respond, flustered. Ian, however, remained serious as he asked, “So, to view this, both you and Lord Oran would need to infuse it with magic?”

“It seems so.”

“Isn’t there a simpler way? It should be available for anyone to view whenever they want. Isn’t there a way to make copies without damaging the original? Couldn’t we make multiple copies?”

“Sorry, but I haven’t gotten that far…” Benjamin glanced at Ian, who simply replied, “You will.”

Benjamin gave him a dry look, but Ian continued without a second thought, “That way, we really can keep it as an heirloom.”

“Oh, would you stop with the heirloom talk?” I muttered under my breath, pressing my hands to my face in embarrassment. My mother chuckled silently and said, “Yes, it would be nice to have a few copies. I’d like one myself, to watch it anytime, even when Liv isn’t around…”

A brief silence followed my mother’s words. Benjamin, ever softhearted towards her, murmured, “I’ll do my best, Aunt.”

“It seems I focused solely on capturing the light and sound, neglecting the magic that binds it together. But it might be possible to make a copy.”

“Oh? How?”

“Can’t the Count figure it out himself? Talented people like him… They rely on their talent so much they neglect their studies.”

“What! When did I neglect my studies… It’s just a little… complicated right now.”

Honestly, Lord Oran seemed to have a rocky relationship with everyone except Isabella. With words like that, he’d surely end up on poor terms with people. Eloise interjected bluntly, “Lord Oran, this is an order. Make multiple copies by the end of the week. We’ll need one for the Keppel family, one for the Hershey family, and one for the imperial family, too. It’s unprecedented, so I’d like one as well.”

Oh, no, please don’t. This is embarrassing…

“Indeed, it could be useful for research as well, so I’ll try to make as many copies as possible.”

Everyone seemed delighted by Benjamin’s words. No one, however, seemed to give a single thought to my personal rights regarding the recording. In a world without the concept of personal image rights, I had no choice but to accept it.