“Anyway, I came today to deliver the contract. Since Mr. Manuel is currently your guardian, all the legal matters have been settled with him, but I felt it was better to ask you directly to look after my daughter. Someone will come to tell you more about the lesson schedule and the move to the new house. Hear the details from them when the time comes. I have a venue in mind for the recital, so it will be held there, and you may choose whatever pieces you like for the program. I would prefer something with a bit of impact if possible, but with that level of skill, and with a concert I’m backing, there’s no chance of a poor reception, so don’t worry about it.”

She finished speaking and slowly rose from her seat. Still in a daze, I managed to stand up after her, and she met my eyes and gave a slight smile. It was neither the obligatory smile she had worn while discussing the contract nor the warm smile filled with affection for her daughter. She was clearly smiling, yet a cool edge ran through it, and something in my chest went cold.

“Your life is about to change, Mr. Lieselotte. The clothes you wear, the food you eat, all of it will be different. Your talent made that possible, so take pride in yourself. Only remember this: it was I who gave you the opportunity to change your life by putting that talent to use, and it was my daughter who moved me to act. That is all I have to say.”

It was a clear warning to know your place and conduct yourself accordingly. Before I could say anything in return, she turned and left the consultation room, but the chill lingered and continued to circle in my chest.

Her words became reality before long. After the debut recital at Marcell Hall, the largest venue in the capital, requests for recitals and inquiries about lessons began pouring in from all directions. It was a change so sudden it made the past few years of struggling to secure a venue and the funds to hold a concert seem laughable. It had taken only a single month for that change to come about.

Every time a recital was held, tickets sold out without fail. People staked out spots in front of the box office before sales even opened in order to get their hands on the scarce tickets, and those who had once mocked that spectacle had, at some point, quietly joined the queue themselves. 

Enforcement officers were always patrolling near the box office to crack down on scalpers selling tickets at absurdly inflated prices, but people still stamped their feet in frustration at being unable to get even those expensive tickets. Among them were some who had once sneered that my playing was formulaic and vulgar.

One month. In that short span of time, the world I stood in and the eyes of the people looking at me had all changed entirely. The meaning was clear. What had brought about this change was not my talent but the Astrid family’s wealth and connections. The upper-class people who had looked down on me had completely reversed their attitude the moment they heard I was under the Astrid family’s patronage.

I found all of it absurd. When the very people who had regarded me with contempt came dragging their children by the hand and bowed their heads begging me to please take them on as students, I was so dumbfounded that a hollow laugh escaped me. But of everything, the one who baffled me most was undeniably Danyu Astrid.

I remember your music. Your first music, flowing from fingertips that moved with hesitation, held neither greed nor emptiness. It was music that only someone raised entirely on love could possess. The music of a person who had never seen the hardships of the world, never seen its shadows. There was a time, now vanished to the far reaches of memory, when I too had played music like that.

The only thing contained in the fragments of your music was a pure ardor for the world. I found it deeply strange that the destination of that ardor turned out to be me. You, who could have anything in the world, who had already set foot in a glittering world. How could someone like you have taken a man like me to heart.

I was a scarecrow covered in ash, and you were a bluebird flying freely above it. A bird only rests for a moment and never stays in one place forever. I did not understand the love you spoke of, but I knew you would leave in the end. So the love you had for me would be nothing more than a fleeting rest.

So I would not offer you my shoulder. If I could take away even that brief rest, which would be no more than a moment to you who had everything in the world, and if that made me the one thing you had never had in your life. Then I could become the only mark left in this world by someone who had lived his whole life at the mercy of others.

I wanted to leave a mark that would not fade for a long time. I made a show of carrying on with other women in front of you and mocked your feelings. It began after I realized that your expression, upon witnessing me in bed with another woman, had twisted in a way it never had before. What was it I had thought in the moment that bright, smiling face of yours became clouded with despair.

When would the music full of your purity be thrown into the mud? With a twisted heart, I quietly waited for that moment. But even as I endlessly circled around you and wounded you, your music still shone. My music had withered away so pitifully, so why did your music still ring beautifully through the world?

The music rang out along with the question. The warmth of a sound coming from somewhere far away warmed the cold air. As the melody flowed into my ears, warmth began to return to my cold fingertips. A feeling of comfort.

Not wanting to wake, I shifted my body, and in that instant my eyes flew open. This was not music from inside a dream. This was unmistakably a real sound, one that made my body stir. There was only one person in the world who could play music like this.

I got up as I was and moved toward the direction the sound was coming from. With each hurried step, I kicked the half-empty bottles left lying around, but my attention was fixed entirely on the music. With every step I took, the sound grew louder.

“Danyu?”

The moment I called out while opening the door to the salon the music was coming from, the melody stopped. It had been a fairly confident call, but the person who rose from the piano was not Danyu. Standing where my gaze landed was Astaire, wearing an ambiguous smile. His vivid red eyes held a look of discomfort.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s me, Sio.”

“Disappoint is a bit much. It’s just that the playing…… I thought it was Danyu.”

Saying the words out loud, I recalled that there had been something slightly rough about the playing. Danyu’s playing had a slightly softer, more careful quality than the music that had flowed into my ears. Still, it was surprising that Astaire, whose playing was known for its masculine and unpolished character, could produce music this tender.

“Since when did you play like that? You were more of a rough type.”

“Who knows. Perhaps I’ve been influenced by Miss Danyu without realizing it.”

Astaire said it casually and shrugged.

“Influenced.”

The word landed somewhere in my chest and I murmured it quietly, and Astaire, who had been standing at the piano, came toward me with that same ambiguous smile still on his face. He stood across from me and looked me up and down in a way that reminded me of a teacher checking homework, and I furrowed my brow, and the gaze that had been observing me soon filled with concern.

“Peter was worried about you. He said you’ve been acting a bit strange lately.”

“Since when has acting strange been anything new for me? That’s hardly news.”

“You’re stranger than usual, that’s why. I felt it too. You don’t normally drink this much.”

Astaire cast his gaze past my shoulder. Even without turning around, I could imagine what his eyes would find. I had kicked bottles several times on the way here.

“It’s nothing. The music just isn’t coming together.”

With the evidence so plainly in sight, there was no point in arguing that I was fine. I let out an honest sigh and scratched my head, and Astaire’s eyes in front of me quickly filled with surprise.

“The music isn’t coming together? Has that ever happened to you before?”

“I’m surprised too, so don’t make that face.”

Grumbling, I walked past him and settled in front of the piano. Perhaps because Astaire had been sitting there until just a moment ago, the seat still held some warmth.

I stretched out my fingers and pressed the keys without much thought. The melody that had been circling in my ears until a moment ago rang through the space just as it had been, but the rough playing conveyed nothing but bleakness, let alone warmth. It wasn’t only because of my stiffened hands. Even if my hands were in perfect condition, I could never play music like Danyu’s or Astaire’s.

“Sio.”

I was tapping the keys absently, sinking into a low mood, when Astaire, who had been leaning against the piano, called my name carefully. Without stopping the hand tapping the keys, I glanced up at him.

“What?”

“Are you upset because Danyu and I are getting married?”

The unexpected question made my fingers stop.

“Upset? Why would I be?”

My voice rose on its own at the absurd question. Astaire let out a small sigh watching me protest with my whole body against the ridiculous question.

“I actually thought you were in love with Danyu.”

“I have no idea what gave you that impression.”

The words came out haltingly and the tension drained from my shoulders. Me, in love with Danyu Astrid? It was truly nonsense. The amusing thing, if anything, was that Astaire was not the first person to say something like this to me.

—

T/N: THE FIRST STAGE IS DENIAL