The house, layered thick with the dust of years, was oppressively quiet. That sharp stillness felt like a denial of all the time that had passed. He deliberately quickened his steps, trying somehow to drive out the silence, but it took no time at all to realize even that was pointless. The sound of footsteps crossing the floorboards and reaching the ceiling slipped out through the window just as quickly as it came.

Standing there gazing quietly at the scene, one could forget that this place had once been full of warm people. The sound of someone playing piano, the murmur of voices, the cheerful laughter that broke through in between. All of it felt as distant as a midsummer night’s dream.

Perhaps that was only natural. The days when everyone had been together were long ago now.

Decades had passed, unable to hold back the cruel flow of time yet unable to ignore it either. In that time, several Jubilions had been held in the capital, and several new buildings had gone up. It had been more than enough time for the embarrassing title of composer Peter Klose to become familiar. The same could be said for the body that grew frailer with each passing year and the wrinkles that had begun to carve themselves into his face one by one.

He did not know when he himself had changed so much. The change had come quietly, yet unmistakably, the way clothes are soaked through by a drizzle. For that reason, whenever he suddenly felt the weight of a change he had not noticed in the flow of daily life, the years that had passed so swiftly would feel as foreign as someone else’s life.

This place, where the genius musicians who had defined an era once lived, was one such trace that made him feel that change. And so every time he stepped through the door of this space, he always returned to the past and became the young Peter Klose of those days. In those days he was neither a composer nor an old man. He was someone’s friend, someone’s student, and a young man.

Reminiscing about days one cannot return to is a deeply sorrowful thing. The reason he had not set foot in this house for such a long time was precisely because he had not wanted to feel that sorrow. But today, for the first time in a long while, he returned to being that young man of those days and waited for someone. Someone who would build a fine bridge between the past and the present.

“Excuse me.”

While he was lost in sentiment, a cautious voice came through along with a knock at the door. It was a young woman’s voice. There was no need to confirm the identity of the visitor. There was only one person who would bother coming to a place where no one lived.

He opened the door without checking who it was, and before him stood a woman in a neat dress, blinking in surprise. She seemed flustered by the door opening so suddenly, and in her hand was a pocket watch she hadn’t yet managed to put away.

“Hello. I’m the one who had an appointment to meet you today.”

She hurriedly tucked the watch into her pocket and extended her other hand. It was the gesture of someone offering a handshake, but he could only stare blankly at her face, unable to take the offered hand. Noticing this, her face creased slightly. It wasn’t the look of someone offended. She simply tilted her head, as though the situation was both familiar and curious to her.

“How strange. Everyone who knew my grandmother reacts exactly this way.”

It wasn’t so much her reaction as the single word from her lips that made him laugh. Grandmother. The fact that Danyu Astrid was called that by someone felt remarkably strange and amusing. Even though he himself was called grandfather by someone too. That was probably because of his own desire to linger in those days a little longer.

“Do I really look that much like her? I’ve seen photographs, and I didn’t think it was striking enough to be that surprised. Our hair color is different, for one.”

She laughed awkwardly and touched her own hair. The pale blonde was certainly different from Danyu’s red hair. Her hair was closer to Professor Astaire’s, actually. Her facial features were the same way. And yet the reason he had seen Danyu in her was her particular air.

“The resemblance isn’t so much in the looks. It’s more the particular air about you.”

Danyu Astrid had possessed a special quality. A brightness and uprightness that only someone raised entirely in love could have. Danyu had those things, and those things were what made her so endearing. They were the reason Professor Astaire, who was always so composed, was always flustered around Danyu alone, and the reason Teacher Sio, who had been more exacting than anyone, had stayed by Danyu’s side for so long. All of it was because of those qualities in Danyu.

“Have you never seen Danyu in person?”

“No. My grandfather as well, and my grandmother passed away when I was very young. I have a faint memory of her, but it isn’t clear.”

The woman said this and extended her hand once more. This time he didn’t lose himself and took it, and a bright smile quickly spread across her face.

“I’m Sana Astrid. The person you were looking for is my father. He received your message and very much wanted to come himself, but there was a prior engagement he absolutely could not cancel. A long concert tour that had been planned for years. So he sent me in his place.”

“I heard the general circumstances. I’m Peter Klose.”

The person he had originally sought out was the youngest son, the only one of the two’s children who had gone into music, but when he finally managed to reach him, the man was in no position to make time due to a long-running concert schedule booked years in advance. Deeply apologetic, the man had sent back word that he would send his daughter, who was turning twenty that year, in his stead. The daughter he had spoken of was none other than Danyu and the Professor’s granddaughter, Sana Astrid.

“Is there anyone who wouldn’t know Teacher Klose without an introduction? You are the greatest composer in Seydel. It is an honor to meet you.”

“The greatest composer in Seydel. That is far too generous. I know one composer I could never surpass.”

“You must mean Teacher Lieselotte, your own teacher. He was also my father’s godfather.”

He gave a light nod to confirm Sana’s words. Sana’s father was also a well-known violinist who had made quite a name for himself in the capital, but to him the man was more familiar as Teacher Sio’s only godchild. Danyu and the Professor had three children, and the only one Teacher Sio had agreed to be godfather to was the youngest. It had been an achievement reached only through the two of them’s persistent persuasion. Because Teacher Sio had never married until the day he left this world, that youngest child, though only a godchild, had been his only family. That was precisely why he had gone to the trouble of seeking out that youngest child.

‘Hold him. You’re the child’s godfather, aren’t you?’

‘Go on, Sio. Hold him.’

‘Never mind. I’m really not used to this sort of thing.’

‘Who is used to this sort of thing from the start? You get used to it as you go. Come on, quickly!’

He remembered the sight of Teacher Sio, bewildered, lifting the child into his arms under the two of them’s insistence.

‘Look how much he likes you. Sio, you need to get married right away.’

The faint smile that had spread across Teacher Sio’s face as he looked at the child grinning up at him, and the sight of the Professor gently teasing him over it, were still vivid before his eyes.

“In that case, should I say it is an honor to meet the greatest living composer in Seydel?”

While he was briefly lost in old memories, Sana asked brightly.

“That cheerful personality is also like Danyu’s.”

“I only wish my piano playing resembled hers as much.”

“You are far too modest, Sana. Word has it you are a promising young pianist worthy of Danyu and Professor Astaire’s granddaughter. That you may follow in their footsteps and become the next Jubilion champion. If that happens, it would be three Jubilion champions from one family, an unprecedented record in history.”

Danyu had won the Jubilion, and ten years later Professor Astaire had claimed the same title. The record of a married couple both winning the Jubilion was quite a rare thing, and he recalled it had caused quite a stir at the time. And now their granddaughter was aiming for the Jubilion as well. When that day came, it was plain to see the quiet kingdom would be in an uproar once again.

“That great grandfather of mine only achieved it in his forties. It is too soon to speak of such things for me.”

“And yet you leave your grandmother out of it. Danyu was about your age when she won.”

At his remark, Sana gave an embarrassed laugh.

Twenty, she had said. That age when even an uncertain smile about the future looks beautiful. One year, two years. As the years accumulated, the choices in life grew fewer and the path forward grew clearer. That also meant the possibilities disappeared one by one. Standing now, slowly moving toward the single remaining choice called the end of life, it felt almost strange to him that he too had once had such a dazzling time.

“So much time has passed. Everyone has gone, and now only I remain here. Long ago there were so many wonderful things. In those days when we were all together. But one by one they left, and in the end there is only me.”

He looked around the empty house and reached back through memories that felt strangely distant. Everywhere his eyes landed, the stories of those days came alive. Sitting together with their heads bent over the question of what to name Danyu and the Professor’s first child. The memory of teasing Teacher Sio after he came home from an arranged meeting having had water thrown at him by the woman, and getting pestered for days afterward. The hours spent listening to Danyu and the Professor perform Teacher Sio’s pieces and sharing their thoughts.

At some point, Danyu and the Professor’s young children had begun appearing in those memories one by one. Teacher Sio would grumble that the children were a nuisance, but he would play the piano for them every now and then. It was a simple melody made with only one good hand, but the children had loved that sound dearly.

Come to think of it, those had been very peaceful times. They certainly were, right up until Teacher Sio left this world.

Sio Lieselotte passed away from a chronic illness just past the age of forty. His body, weakened from years of drinking and smoking in his youth, had not been able to withstand the passage of time. All of the capital mourned his death. There were even those who said that God could not permit the existence of a genius who would turn the world upside down.

But the person who mourned his death more than anyone was without question Danyu Astrid. She was deeply saddened by the fact that he had lived to the very end of his life carrying loneliness within him. It was also Danyu who performed the requiem at his funeral. She played with her whole heart, wishing him peace. The eulogy fell to Professor Astaire.

‘He has now become a corner of history beyond the reach of our hands. His every word, his every step, was a great footprint in the history of music. The history of music began with Seydel Keller, the first musician, but its final chapter will belong to Sio Lieselotte. In time, we will be proud that we lived within the same era as him, that we were able to witness his precious music with our own eyes.’

Even in the steady voice reading through the words, a grief that could not be hidden came through, and many people wept along with that voice.

“This house is where my teacher lived from the time he came of age until he left this world. It has been left empty ever since he passed, but strangely, not long ago I suddenly felt the urge to clean it. And while cleaning, I found it. His belongings were all sorted after he died, so I couldn’t understand why this was still here. That is why I sought out Sana’s father.”

He reached into his br*ast pocket and drew out an envelope. It was an envelope that smelled of old paper, as though it might crumble at any moment. Sana took the worn envelope with a puzzled expression and began carefully examining the outside. Her hands showed plain concern that the envelope might be damaged. The moment she took it, she seemed to understand that this was something of great importance.

“Please open it. It is the last remaining keepsake of Sio Lieselotte.”

The carefully moving hands went still. Her wide, rounded eyes showed her surprise clearly.

“I am truly glad to be able to pass this on now, even if it took this long. The moment I saw the envelope, it came back to me. That Teacher always kept this close to him, tucked carefully inside his br*ast pocket.”

Sana’s hands, which had paused, began to move again. Hands that had already been careful grew even more deliberate.

“Sheet music. Sheet music from fifty years ago.”

What had come out of the envelope was sheet music just as worn. There were spots here and there where moisture had seeped in and caused the ink to bleed, but it posed no trouble at all in reading through it. Sana’s eyes moved quickly over the pages.

“I’ve seen transcriptions made to resemble it as closely as possible a few times, but this is my first time seeing Teacher Lieselotte’s handwritten score.”

“Quite the poor handwriting, isn’t it.”

“Yes. But the music contained here.”

Sana carefully ran her fingers over the sheet music and pressed her lips shut. Perhaps she had fallen into the lingering resonance of the music within the pages. She could not speak for a long while. Only the rustling of paper as she turned the pages filled the space. He waited quietly for the music inside her to come to its end.

“This is.”

At last the rustling stopped.

“Such a desperately earnest serenade. Any woman who heard this music would fall in love.”

He smiled and gave a small nod.

“Would you look at the back of the last page?”

In this moment, a feeling buried deep in the passage of time for so very long comes back to life.

Concerto 〈River〉

This is the only concerto left behind by Sio Lieselotte, the genius composer regarded as the most creative in the history of the kingdom. Having pursued his creative work with passion throughout his life, he left behind nearly a thousand pieces across many fields before his death, but River is his only concerto.

River has many interesting stories attached to it. The premiere of River was held decades after Sio Lieselotte’s passing, and it is said that the audience at the time numbered a mere thirteen people. This was because an unseasonable cold snap brought heavy snowfall in early summer, bringing the capital’s traffic to a standstill.

The premiere was performed by the Seydel Royal Orchestra, with pianist Sana Astrid as soloist. Sana Astrid, the granddaughter of pianist Danyu Astrid and Astaire Astrid, would go on to follow in her grandparents’ footsteps by winning the Jubilion, leaving a remarkable record in the history of music.

This work is also one of the few pieces by Sio Lieselotte left without a title, as he had given most of his works titles to make his intentions clear. The title River was given by later generations, who felt it well expressed a life that flows on beyond one’s control, like a river.

However, some musicians trace the origin of the title elsewhere. There is a theory that the name derives from a phrase written on the last page of River’s handwritten score. The handwritten score of River is currently held at the Seydel Central Museum, but as the last page was already missing at the time of donation, the truth cannot be confirmed. The phrase that some musicians claim was written on the last page of River is as follows.

Within my heart flows an eternal river.

fin.

thank you so much for reading and supporting this novel! I won’t be translating the side stories unless there is a specific demand for it. love, adeline.