“What do you mean by that?”
“Lady Hoffman will arrive at the party soon. I never gave her permission, but she took it upon herself to perform a violin piece here. To be honest, she’s been following me around to an annoying degree.”

“Well, isn’t Lady Deva simply trying to help Your Grace, since she’s your fiancée?”

Penelope asked innocently. Everyone knew Deva had been courting the Duke, and even Queen Clarissa was rumored to be quietly supporting the engagement.

Though Blade himself had never made a public announcement, their impending union was treated like fact in Modeston society.

“I’m not engaged. I don’t have a lover. Not even someone I see casually. Make sure you remember that.”

“Understood.”

For some reason, the Duke was keen on emphasizing that he was entirely unattached. Though to Penelope, it wasn’t a particularly important detail.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘a chance to take the violin back’?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Before Lady Hoffman arrives, I want you, Count, to perform a violin piece here.”

“You want me to perform right now?”

“Don’t you want to see it? The look on the face of the woman who stole music from you—when she realizes she never truly took anything at all.”

“That’s…”

Indeed, what Blade had just described struck at the very heart of Penelope’s revenge.

“Yes. I want to do it.”

For a moment, a smile seemed to pass across Blade’s usually serious face. It was the smile of a man who read and manipulated every reaction with precision.

Watching him, Penelope felt that even though she had approached him first, she had walked straight into a situation he had planned long ago.

“Brandon!”
“Yes, Your Grace! You called?”
“Fetch a violin. And have the orchestra stop playing.”

As soon as Penelope gave her answer, Blade immediately summoned his secretary and issued an order.

Moments later, Penelope found herself holding an unfamiliar violin, standing before the stage.

Everything had happened in the blink of an eye.
In a daze, Penelope looked to the Duke standing beside her.

“This is also a test, a test to see whether you, Count Utterback, are truly prepared and resolved to take back what was stolen from you.”

In other words, he wanted her to perform here and now, right where Deva was supposed to perform without preparation, and still draw the crowd’s attention.

“If this moment becomes your stage, Penelope Utterback, I’ll give you everything you want. But if all you offer is empty promise, then today will be our last meeting.”

Truth be told, Blade’s demand was the kind of outrageous treatment that would enrage even a top-tier musician.

But Penelope said nothing in return. She simply took up the instrument.

“Penelope, you’re a child with the talent to persuade others not with words, but with your instrument. So won’t you speak to us again—with your violin?”

“Remember, all the answers lie within your violin. I’ve hidden something very important inside it.”

Just as her parents had encouraged her to express emotions through music during her mutism, today, Penelope would prove her worth through music once more.

‘You think I can’t do it? I can throw away something like pride.’

An unfamiliar instrument, a sudden request, a less-than-ideal environment, even in this absurd situation, Penelope lifted the violin.

It was far inferior to Iris, her usual companion. But it was still a violin. And if there was anyone who could draw sound from it, it was her—the woman who had played the violin her entire life.

At some point, Blade had stepped back into the shadows of the ballroom.

“Huh? Isn’t that Lady Utterback? Why is she holding a violin?”
“Who is that? Is she really about to play right now?”

As Penelope appeared near the orchestra stage, now silent, the crowd’s attention turned toward her. Curious guests began gathering near the stage.

Penelope raised her bow, glancing past them to where Blade stood behind the crowd.

He was watching her with folded arms and a cool expression as though he intended to judge for himself just how good she truly was.

Penelope exhaled once, twice then closed her eyes.

And then—

Ttan.

She drew the first note.

Tango.
The most flamboyant of dance pieces had begun.

Its intense tempo and melody instantly seized the attention of the crowd.
People who hadn’t even realized a performance was about to begin turned their gaze toward the stage.

“Whose captivating sound is this?”
“She’s weaving through the notes so effortlessly yet precisely. Even Deva Hoffman couldn’t deliver a performance this stable.”
“Exactly. It’s a completely different style from Lady Hoffman… There’s something incredibly profound about it.”

Rumors had already spread that Deva was to perform today for her prospective fiancé.
Naturally, those who had been waiting for Deva’s performance began to compare the two women’s styles.

Penelope’s fingers moved without hesitation—plucking, bowing, pushing and pulling.
Every gesture, every movement as she played the violin became a dazzling dance of technique in itself.

Before long, the noisy crowd fell silent, as if hypnotized, and gathered near the stage just to hear her play.

“But… what’s the name of this piece?”

To the nobles of Modeston, the tango was still an unfamiliar sound.

“I know this music. It’s called a tango—a dance piece. It originated from the lower classes of the southern continent. I never thought I’d hear it here.”

Beneath its bold accents and passionate melody lay the grief and fury of the oppressed.
What Penelope poured into this piece was her buried passion, her long-forgotten dreams, and the sorrow of those who had once composed it.

Above all, this was a piece laced with memories of her parents.

Penelope moved her bow while recalling the days she played in their mansion, and her parents would dance as she performed.

It was a performance that wavered between laughter and tears—a mysterious symphony of emotions.

Blade watched her with a faint, unreadable expression, like someone quietly remembering something long ago and deeply missed.

***

Dressed in a glamorous gown, Deva arrived in front of the hotel.

Today was Gunner Trading’s anniversary celebration.
But because of the Queen’s interference, the party had likely gone poorly and Blade had failed to secure any investors.

Deva planned to arrive at this difficult moment, perform a stunning piece, and draw everyone’s attention—painting herself as the woman who came to Blade’s rescue.

It was all to shape the image of a devoted fiancée, supporting Gunner from behind the scenes.
If, after that, she could convince her father to invest an even greater sum into Gunner Trading and help revive the company, then surely, Blade would become hers.

‘No matter how cold he is, even Duke Gunner can’t reject me forever.’

Deva had spent years trying to arrange an engagement with Blade, but had been turned down repeatedly.

Her pride had been bruised time and again, but she pretended not to care. After all, Blade was indifferent to all women.

Nevertheless, he would need to marry one day to continue his bloodline, and he would choose his wife based on merit.

Deva, who had the best status and connections in the kingdom, was confident that she would be the one he chose.

Unlike other noblemen, Blade was neither scandalous nor promiscuous. This made him all the more appealing.

The more she was rejected, the more desirable he seemed.

Deva was more determined than ever to win him over.

She was willing to do anything to win him over.

Even today, she had come to perform for him in the hope of lifting his spirits.

“Wait, what is that sound?”

Deva’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“Well, um—”

Brandon, who had stepped out to greet her, glanced anxiously between the music drifting from the ballroom and Deva’s cold, unyielding expression.

“From the very stage where I’m supposed to perform… I hear some beggar’s noise?”

Pushing Brandon aside, Deva stormed toward the sound of the violin.

She had come here intending to rescue Blade from the troubles caused by the Queen only to find that someone else was performing on stage instead of her.

Her fury was beyond words.

‘Who dared steal my spotlight?’

Deva strode into the ballroom in one swift motion.

And what she saw—

“…Penelope?”

Why on earth was Penelope standing there, holding a violin?

What shook her even more was the crowd’s response.

“It’s a flawless performance!”
“Her tone is so much richer than Deva Hoffman’s. Where has this gem been hiding all this time?”
“I’m a reporter for a music journal. Could I request an interview about the piece you just played?”

This stage was meant for Deva yet the crowd was cheering for Penelope.

It was a situation Deva couldn’t begin to comprehend.
Someone else was standing in her place.
Penelope, of all people, was playing the violin again.
None of it made any sense.

Deva had been certain Penelope had given up the violin.
Because she had made it so.

She had done everything in her power to strip Penelope of her music, to steal her violin, to leave her in misery and ruin.

She had inflicted trauma so deep that Penelope couldn’t even touch the instrument or so Deva had thought.

“How… how is her skill the same as before?”

Deva’s eyes, locked on Penelope, trembled with barely contained emotion.