03. Felicia Sophie de Akuris

It was said that in a nameless country, someone composed a song expressing their heart. That song, passed from mouth to mouth, rose from the lowly to the high, and eventually reached the ears of the beloved. What was once merely a song became a heartfelt message, and the two lived happily together for the rest of their lives.

Now, Felicia, the youngest daughter of Marquis Akuris, who had just turned fifteen, found herself at the edge of Akuris Port, at a tavern called ‘La Folia’, guided by that one story—uncertain whether it was true or false. With the sun high in the sky, the port bustled with all the world’s noise, but inside the tavern, it was deathly quiet.

Creak—the door to the tavern opened, as Felicia entered without fear.

“Is anyone… is anyone here?”

Her clear voice rang out, filling the empty tavern with echoes. With each step, the wooden floor cried out beneath her feet. The bright outside contrasted with the eerie atmosphere inside, making Felicia hug her arms around herself, shivering. She began to regret coming here, but then, music drifted from somewhere.

“Who are you?”

Following the sound, she climbed to the upper part of the tavern, where a man sat before a grand piano, his rough voice greeting Felicia. Despite his wild beard and the prosthetic visible at the end of his left trouser leg, his hands produced sounds softer than silk.

“Is your name Martin Smith?”

Her trembling, weak voice landed boldly atop the music. The man’s hands, previously playing, stopped as if Felicia’s arrival was a significant event.

“I heard you’re the conductor of the most famous band here.”

“……”

“Can you play this?”

Without waiting for his approval, Felicia laid her own sheets atop the yellowing papers spread over the instrument. As she expected, the man—indeed Martin Smith—did not even glance at her, but instead fiddled with the edges of the crisp paper, quickly reading the notes with his eyes.

“I can play it.”

“……”

“But how am I to read your sheets without knowing who you are, My Lady?”

Martin, in his eyes, saw Felicia as nothing more or less than a bold but ill-mannered rich lady.  

When countless wars and sacrifices finally ended, the power of temples and saints waned, and people began to believe not in what they could no longer see, but in what was right before them. Martin Smith, quicker than anyone to read the changing times, seized upon this shift with uncanny insight. He wanted more people to know that music was no longer the property of the wealthy alone.  

But the girl standing before him now wore things he couldn’t afford even after three months of hard work. So, for Martin, Felicia was enough to reinforce his prejudice.  

“If I was rude, please forgive me, Mr. Smith.”  

Yet Felicia was not just wealthy—she was quick-witted. When one harbors unrequited love for a long time, the only thing that grows is one’s intuition.  

“I wrote this piece myself, and I simply wanted it reviewed by someone who understands music best.”  

“Best?”  

“I’ll leave the sheet music here.”  

‘Understands music best?’  

Flattered by her compliment, Martin was so absorbed in reading Felicia’s sheet music that he didn’t even notice her descending the staircase railing.  

That night, Martin spent hours marveling at the fact that the precious rich lady actually knew how to make music that wasn’t expensive.  

And when Felicia returned the next day, Martin politely called her name first.  

“Miss Nadia.”  

＊＊＊  

Nadia, a name meaning hope, was chosen by Felicia in the hope that her wish would become reality. Of course, that was the grand explanation; in truth, who would sing a song written by a child of nobility? No noble would welcome such behavior that disregarded social status. The name was crafted for a successful double life. But to hear that name from Yuan’s lips…  

“Aaaah!!”  

The scream Felicia had wanted to let out in the carriage finally burst out in her room, face buried in her pillow. For five years, only Martin and Storia’s star, Dejaire, had known her name. How did he know it? Her joy as Nadia clashed with her anxiety about being discovered.  

Marhel, Yuan, and now Nadia—too many things were happening at once. Felicia felt she’d rather kidnap Marhel and disappear somewhere. She stretched her tired body across the thickly padded blanket.  

“I suppose I’ll have to find another person.”  

After a long bout of tossing and turning, Felicia sat up and muttered. Not spending her first night with Marhel was something she could never give up, but she wasn’t desperate enough to reveal her secret to Yuan. Opening the second drawer of her white bedside table, Felicia pressed a spot inside, and a hidden compartment slid out.  

Inside was a box made of deep green velvet, heavy enough to be awkward for one hand. Leaning against the headboard, Felicia sifted through the gold coins inside. Her purpose in becoming Nadia was, like the story she’d heard as a child, to let her heartfelt song reach Marhel’s ears. Yet with each passing winter, Storia’s stage grew larger, and last winter, it was grand enough to carve nine muses at the top. These coins were the money she’d earned as Nadia.  

“This should be enough…”  

She’d heard that nowadays brothels had men as well as women. Rather than a noble she knew, it would be better to choose someone unknown or someone who could keep silent. As soon as her thoughts settled, sleep overtook her, and she pushed the box deep into her pile of pillows.  

Though she felt relieved, as if she’d soon seize her chance, her heart still felt weighed down, as if by stones.  

＊＊＊  

The next day, Akuris’s head steward, Hanel, was surrounded by paperwork when his assistant, Roberto, said something that made him doubt his ears.  

“Who’s here?”  

“Count Viamel.”  

It was unheard of for someone from the Dukedom to visit this mansion, especially when the Marquis and his lady were absent. Hanel, calm but visibly flustered, gripped Roberto’s shoulder reassuringly and left his desk.  

Walking quickly to the lobby, Hanel’s worries were unfounded; Count Viamel, who had spent half his life in the military, was at the entrance, showing off the darkest skin among the capital’s nobles, as a maid received his hat. Dressed in black from head to toe, he didn’t look gloomy—on the contrary, black looked noble on him.  

“I am Hanel, steward to the Marquis.”  

“Pleasure to meet you, Hanel.”  

“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, but unfortunately, the Marquis and Madame are both out today.”  

Hanel’s careful words echoed in the lobby. He wasn’t a guest a mere steward could refuse, but it was true. The master had left early with his beloved lady, tossing aside all duties for a sunny day. Hanel and Roberto had been left to sort urgent documents.  

“I have something to deliver to Miss Felicia.”  

Hanel’s thick gray eyebrows lifted, his eyes widening.  

“Miss Felicia… you mean?”  

“She was out in the cold wind yesterday.”  

Hanel’s gaze landed on the small box and flowers in the Count’s hand. Unsure what to do, Hanel finally opened the parlor door himself and led the Count inside. Now there was one more thing to report when the master returned, and Hanel felt a wave of fatigue.  

Normally, he’d have assigned a passing child the task, but this time, Hanel went up to Felicia’s room himself and knocked.  

“Hanel!”  

Felicia had just woken from a deep sleep and, with the help of her maid Marie, had finished her bath. She was brushing her damp, pale orange hair when Hanel knocked, and her face lit up with joy.  

“What is it?”  

Felicia, like a puppy about to go for a walk, greeted Hanel with excitement as he entered, closing the door behind him. Hanel, who had served since before the current Marquis received his title, cherished Felicia like a daughter. Felicia, knowing this, sometimes called him uncle when she needed something secretly.  

“My Lady. Did anything happen yesterday?”  

“Something? What do you mean?”  

He needed to know why Count Viamel was seeking her, and why he seemed concerned. It was his habit to be cautious with anyone from the Dukedom, but he was even more sensitive when it came to Felicia. Everyone in the mansion was already troubled by her endless unrequited love; there was no need to add someone from the Dukedom to the mix.  

“Nothing happened?”  

“Um…”  

“……”  

“Can I keep it a secret?”  

‘Oh dear, My Lady.’

Felicia tried to brush off the question with a childlike smile, and Hanel was about to say something when, just in time, Marie entered with a soft towel. Bowing to Hanel, Marie wrapped her wet hair with the towel and led her to her dressing table.  

“You’ll catch a cold like this.”  

“It’s so warm today.”  

“The night air is still cold, My Lady.”  

“See?”  

With Hanel agreeing, Marie bit her lower lip and glared at Felicia like a grumpy squirrel. Felicia laughed at Marie’s expression, and Hanel’s worry deepened. He wanted to ask what happened yesterday and who she met, but someone was waiting for her. He decided to ask those who accompanied Felicia yesterday later, and focused on what he had to say now.  

“My Lady.”  

“Yes, Hanel?”  

“Count Viamel is waiting in the parlor.”  

Hanel noticed Felicia’s lips subtly drop.  

‘So something did happen.’  

After advising her to hurry, Hanel left Felicia’s room. He then began asking Roberto, who was waiting outside, for the names of those who had accompanied Felicia yesterday. It didn’t seem serious, but it never hurt to be cautious.