Chapter 49: Choosing

Victor waited until Wolf's retreating figure was slowly swallowed by the closing door before letting out a long breath. He turned toward Rhein and the members of the symphony orchestra on the stage. "Carry on with your practice. A decent melody just popped into my head — I'm going to the lounge to get it written down."

Every musician in the Association had a private lounge of their own.

"Mr. Victor, I don't think your current emotional state is stable at all. Forcing yourself to compose a piece right now won't accomplish anything." Rhein set down his violin and walked to the edge of the stage. His face, which almost always wore that charming smile, was, for once, serious and earnest.

Victor deflated like a punctured water bladder — the composure he had been forcing himself to maintain crumbled in an instant, revealing a mixture of exhaustion, frustration, and anger. "I know, Rhein. I just need some quiet."

Rhein gave a slight nod and turned to Lucian and Lot. "Lucian, Lot — accompany Mr. Victor to his lounge. Phyllis, Herodotus, go to the practice room and work on your instruments."

Although Rhein was neither an aristocrat nor a formally recognised musician, his outstanding skill on the violin, the harpsichord, and other instruments, together with his perpetually unhurried demeanour, meant that neither Lucian nor Lot had any objection to following his instructions — it was as though the order had come from Mr. Victor himself.

On the way up to the third-floor lounge, Victor did not say a single word. He was lost in a maelstrom of self-disappointment, grief, and fury. Lucian and Lot had no idea what to say, so they simply followed behind him in silence.

Only once they were inside the lounge did Victor speak to them. "You two — practise your instruments properly. Close the door behind you when you leave."

Then he sank onto the sofa and stared silently at the wall opposite.

Lucian glanced in the direction of Victor's gaze as he walked out. Hanging on the wall was an oil painting of a beautiful woman with black hair and dark eyes, her face slender and delicate, a quiet, calming smile playing on her lips.

The painting was masterfully done — the woman looked as though she were alive and breathing.

Stepping outside, Lucian watched through the slowly closing door as Victor simply stared at the painting, motionless, like a statue.

……

Lucian returned to the fourth-floor practice room with Lot, both of them silent. He found that Phyllis and Herodotus weren't practising either — they sat there in low spirits, staring blankly, lost in their own thoughts.

"Whatever happens, at least Mr. Victor's concert won't be a disaster now that Director Othello has made his demand," Lot said. He had expected to feel glad, but the moment the words left his mouth, he heard how thick the bitterness was in his own voice. He had studied under Mr. Victor for several years now. The man was so gentle and kind, always looking out for others. Even if Lot had once harboured a faint, secret disdain for his commoner origins, years of closeness had forged a deep bond.

And besides — if this concert proved to be a triumphant success and vaulted Victor into the ranks of celebrated musicians, then when Lot sat for his own musician's examination, MacEntyre's petty obstructions and prejudice would no longer matter.

Phyllis gave a soft, silent laugh, equally bitter. "Even if the musical composition problem is solved per Director Othello's demands, what about Mr. Victor's state of mind? Who can guarantee that? If a conductor keeps stumbling over and over, can the concert really turn out well?"

"Exactly." Herodotus — still youthful and green compared to Lot's age — pressed his forehead against the body of his violin and murmured, his voice drifting and unfocused, as though he were talking in his sleep.

And so the practice room fell silent once more, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

In that kind of situation, Lucian — off in his own world to the side — attracted no particular notice.

At that moment, Lucian was analysing the music scores he had stored in his soul library and comparing them against the scores from Earth. He needed to make sure that if he transcribed a symphony, its melody wouldn't turn out to be something that already existed in this world — which would earn him the reputation of a witless plagiarist and slam the door on any music career forever.

This was an extra precaution Lucian had prepared for Victor, as a way of repaying the man's care and support. He would find a classic symphony from Earth, and when the final hour arrived — if Victor still couldn't compose a piece from his own inspiration — he would find an appropriate, unsuspicious way to "give" it to him.

【Thank goodness I marked all the Earth music scores with this world's musical notation a while back when I was practising sight-reading. Otherwise, this alone would've taken over a month.】Lucian thought to himself, feeling rather lucky as he compared the scores.

Comparing melodies within the soul library was simpler than he had imagined — because the scores were stored within his own soul, he only needed to glance through them once to retrieve any matching melodies.