Lucian's low chuckle went unnoticed, because everyone had already launched into an enthusiastic discussion of the famous musician Mr. Lucian Evans's newly composed piano sonata, signed "Moonlight" — debating the serene, melodious, and convention-defying first movement. The noise was loud and boisterous, drowning out everything else.
"Mr. Wise, it seems you're quite fond of the first movement of 'Moonlight.' Why don't we go to the practice room and try playing it?" Caspar, realizing it was rude to keep Wise standing in the lobby, invited him upstairs.
Wise nodded slightly with a smile. "Mr. Caspar, you really are perceptive. I was just thinking about practicing this beautifully serene 'Moonlight.'"
With Wise's agreement, Corth City's Musicians' Association's so-called "musicians" and performers immediately crowded around him and headed toward the staircase.
Betty smiled apologetically at Lucian. "Mr. Evans, I'd like to go upstairs and hear Mr. Wise play 'Moonlight,' so I won't stay here with you. Actually, why don't you put your letter aside for now and come listen too? It's a rare opportunity!"
"Yes, Mr. Evans, come listen with us." Johanna, hand in hand with Simon, wore the same eager expression.
Lucian shook his head. "For me, writing the letter is more important."
Johanna and Betty sighed in unison, exchanging a knowing look. "That's really a shame." They were beginning to feel that Mr. Evans, as a certain princess's knight, must have seen many outstanding musicians, which was why he appeared so composed in the face of Mr. Wise.
Watching Simon's family hurry after Wise and the others toward the stairs, Mars also apologized to Lucian. "Mr. Evans, heh heh, I mean the famous musician Mr. Lucian Evans — your 'Moonlight' really suits my taste, so I'm going to head up and follow along with the score while listening to Mr. Wise's performance. He surpasses every musician and performer in Corth City when it comes to piano artistry. Mr. Evans, once you're done with your letter, just hand it to Chris and I'll take care of the rest."
"Then I'll leave it to you, Mr. Mars." Lucian watched Mars depart without concern. Since there were no other tables or chairs in the lobby, he simply stood beside the counter, spread out his stationery, and began writing with the ink available there.
Chris gazed longingly at the staircase entrance, sighing helplessly. "Why do I still have to stay here? Ugh, I'm missing Mr. Wise's private performance." Then she paced restlessly back and forth behind the counter.
Lucian completely ignored her behavior, carefully writing on the letter paper about his experiences and observations over the past two months of travel — focusing on the scenery along the way, customs of various countries, and the monsters and bandits he'd encountered. He filled seven or eight pages in flowing prose before finally setting down his pen.
After sealing so many pages of stationery, Lucian took up his pen and wrote John's family address on the front of the envelope, then set it aside and began writing the next letter.
Later, all he needed to do was sign and stamp the envelope, and the Altor Musicians' Association would naturally deliver it to John's home — that was the privilege of being a musician. But without a signature or stamp, such an unsigned letter addressed to someone who wasn't a member of the Association had only one destination: the trash can.
The second letter was for Natasha. Building on the first, Lucian added observations about the different folk music customs he'd encountered in various places during his travels, filling more than twenty pages. Even the idle Chris couldn't help but furrow her brow. "This gentleman is truly skilled at wordiness — to fill so many pages."
Toward the end, Lucian paused to think, then added with a smile: "Your Highness, your birthday approaches, yet I am in a foreign land. I can only offer my wishes in advance."
After sealing this letter, Lucian wrote only "For Natasha Vorlite" on the front, since no address was needed for her — the Association's Othello Council would be more than happy for the chance to deliver it to Ratasha Palace.
Spreading out fresh stationery, Lucian began writing a third letter. This wasn't for another friend — they could read the first letter through John — but was addressed to President Christopher.
Seeing that Lucian showed no signs of stopping, Chris's jaw nearly dropped, her expression helpless. "How many letters is this gentleman going to write? Is he planning to send one to every friend he has? I wonder if the Altor Musicians' Association will refuse to deliver them..."
After several more pages, Lucian was still writing at full speed. Growing thoroughly bored and slightly curious, Chris couldn't resist sidling closer. Relying on her ability to spell and recognize certain words, she craned her neck to peek at the addresses on the two completed letters.
"'No. 154, Purple Lily District, for John'... I don't recognize that." Chris first looked at the letter that clearly had far more words, then glanced at the other. "'For Natasha Vorlite. Natasha Vorlite... Natasha Vorlite?'"
"Could it be *that* Natasha Vorlite?!"
Natasha's name regularly appeared in *Music Review* and *Symphony Herald*, so she was well known among people in other countries' musicians' associations — her reputation had spread far and wide. Moreover, the surname Vorlite was distinctive and very rare, so Chris immediately connected her to that princess.
"What does this gentleman have to do with Princess Vorlite and Countess Violet?" Overwhelming surprise and burning curiosity drove Chris to speculate about Lucian's identity. "Wait — just now, Mr. Mars addressed him as Mr. Evans?! Mr. Lucian Evans?!!"
There were plenty of people with the surname Evans — Chris herself had met over a dozen in Corth City — and the given name Lucian wasn't uncommon either. The combination was fairly ordinary. But the only Mr. Evans who could be connected to Princess Vorlite and Countess Violet was one person!
Chris's rosy mouth formed a perfect circle and wouldn't close. Inside her head, countless voices were screaming: *Is he really that Mr. Lucian Evans?! My favorite musician?!*
Her feet inched forward little by little as Chris crept toward Lucian, whose feather pen never stopped moving, intending to peek at the contents of his stationery to confirm.
She moved with painstaking care — one step, then a three-second pause, craning her neck, narrowing her eyes, watching to see if Lucian had noticed. She looked like a little thief, and her cautious, curious, expectant manner was utterly adorable.
With Lucian's spiritual perception and intuition, how could he possibly have failed to notice Chris's sneaky little movements? Finding it mildly amusing, and realizing he would be signing and stamping shortly anyway, he chose not to stop her.