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Having received the piano miniature "Für Elise," Natasha was thoroughly satisfied, but she did not use this as a reason to forbid Lucian from visiting her study to read. Her confidence in his creative abilities had grown considerably, and she hoped he would draw inspiration from the religious texts, epics, folk hero poems, historical documents, and chivalric novels stored there, producing masterworks of his own.
And so, every Tuesday and Thursday, Lucian arrived at Ratasha Palace at nine o'clock to read, and at eleven he would discuss music with Natasha, fulfilling his duties as her music consultant.
"Evans, what are you doing?" In the study, Baker — who had just translated several dozen pages — paced back and forth to relieve his fatigue, only to notice with surprise that Lucian was organizing and copying books.
Lucian finished writing a row of elegant, beautifully formed words on white paper with ornate calligraphy before looking up to answer Baker: "I'm organizing and categorizing these historical documents and poems, so I'll be able to find creative reference material more easily in the future."
Although they had known each other and worked alongside one another for nearly two months, Baker's stiff, conservative nature meant that he and Lucian had never grown particularly close.
Hearing that Lucian was doing some kind of organizing, Baker curiously picked up a thick stack of white paper from nearby and began flipping through it. After a while, he spoke with deep puzzlement: "Evans, your method of organization is rather unusual. It seems partly arranged like a general history, from the Age of Darkness and Ignorance through to the Holy Era, yet it also resembles a collection of biographical accounts — the stories of clergy, emperors, kings, dukes, counts, and heroes are all woven together, along with the evolution of culture, law, and other matters."
"That's because for my creative purposes, the story of each epic figure matters most. This way is clearer and more straightforward, and it inspires me better," Lucian replied with a smile.
Baker's earlier suspicions about Lucian's memory — and his subsequent report to Natasha — had made Lucian somewhat wary. After becoming both a knight and a mage, an improved memory was only natural, but a significant portion of his impressive recall came from his soul library, which far exceeded what could be considered normal. He needed to do something to mask this — for instance, cultivating the appearance of having a natural talent for organizing and categorizing information with his own unique methods.
So Lucian simply went ahead and organized the historical documents and other materials in Natasha's study using a format modeled on the Records of the Grand Historian — only without the "The Grand Historian says" editorial commentary sections.
Baker nodded in acceptance of Lucian's explanation. Highlighting heroic figures was indeed a primary approach in opera, novels, and musical composition — reorganizing historical documents along those lines merely required a slight shift in perspective.
He looked over the papers more carefully once more, then said with great seriousness and gravity: "I believe that organizing materials according to this concept already constitutes an entirely new direction for recording history. No wonder your recall of historical material, Evans, has been so clear and swift — you have a genuine talent in this area."
Historical records at present were still compiled in a chronological format, supplemented by individual biographical volumes on the most prominent figures and war epics. The biographical approach Lucian had adopted was novel, though not exactly earth-shattering.
Just then, Natasha suddenly walked into the study. Having caught the tail end of Baker's remarks, she asked curiously about the reason, then burst into bright laughter: "Lucian, so you really are becoming a historian! Though I'd suggest separating clergy, emperors, dukes, and others of different social ranks — the etiquette distinctions among the nobility are extremely rigid, and you really can't lump them all together."
"Fair enough." Lucian had never actually intended to produce a genuine history — he was simply using this innovative organizing method as cover for his situation. "Your Highness, it isn't eleven yet. Is there something you need me for?"
After signaling Baker to continue with his translations, Natasha pulled Lucian over to a corner of the study, her smile radiant and dazzling, yet wearing an expression that clearly said "you know what I mean" — slightly mischievous: "Yesterday was Sylvia's birthday. We didn't hold a banquet — just the two of us. She was extremely pleased with that piano miniature 'For Sylvia,' calling it the kind of pure, beautiful music she'd been searching for all along. This morning, when I told her it was your creation, she wasn't angry at all. On the contrary, she was very grateful to you and would like to invite you to her home tonight for a private dinner — just me, Aunt Camille, Sylvia, and Sylvia's father."
"I would have thought something like this might make Sylvia a little unhappy," Lucian said, discussing the matter with Natasha in a perfectly "normal" tone. "There's quite a difference between a work created by one's own lover and one borrowed from someone else, especially since you didn't mention it at first. If she's not angry, that can only mean..."
Natasha interrupted him, smiling with pure happiness: "It's exactly that kind of gentle, considerate thoughtfulness that makes me love Sylvia. She was truly moved last night, and besides, I didn't break any of our agreements. Tsk, tsk, Lucian — you look like quite the love expert, but aside from dancing, you've never even held a girl's hand."
"..." Lucian. "Can we please stop bringing that up."
"All right, my historian — will you be coming to the dinner tonight?" Natasha laughed and steered the conversation back to the point, making a proper, sincere invitation.
Lucian did not decline. After all, it was in the Gisu District, very close to his home, so it wouldn't interfere with his evening studies.
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Seven o'clock that evening. 78 Gisu District — a pale yellow, two-story villa.
The architectural style was bright and gentle, and in the garden several varieties of cold-resistant flowers were in bloom.
"Welcome, Lucian." Sylvia and her father opened the villa's front door.
She wore an elegant and dignified white dress, her hair — dark as the night sky and smooth as silk — cascading freely over her shoulders, fully emanating that gentle, pure, and refined air about her. She was truly the kind of lover most men could only dream of.
Her father wore a formal black overcoat, his thick black mustache giving him a somewhat aged and severe appearance, though it was easy to tell that in his youth he must have been quite the handsome man — his features were deeply sculpted, as though carved by a master's hand.