Lucian pressed the last key, lifted his hands, and listened in silence to the melody reverberating through the music room. A quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.
This wasn't satisfaction from having plagiarized the *Fate Symphony* — it was from the fact that, over the past three weeks, aside from his time studying Arcane Magic, he had poured every ounce of his energy into piano practice. Each morning at the music library, he played on the virtual instrument, completely immersed in the world of music just like Piero. At noon he wolfed down his meals without any rest, heading straight to Mr. Victor's home and the Association's music rooms, practicing until dusk. Only when Victor came to offer guidance did he play simple pieces.
Effort brought its rewards. Lucian could now just barely play through the *Fate Symphony* without being called noise. Many technically demanding passages still eluded him, but anyone with a deep understanding of music would be able to recognize the piece's immense value.
*I doubt even Mr. Victor is any different.* Lucian set aside his pride over his improving piano skills and stood up, because he knew full well this was a severely lopsided improvement — built entirely on massive repetition and a superhuman memory, enough to play this single piece. Any piece even slightly more difficult remained beyond him; each would require a similar investment of time, far from the solid foundation of someone who had built up fundamentals before tackling complex compositions.
Turning around, he saw Phyllis with her plump lips pressed against her flute, not playing. Her ruby-red eyes were fixed on him with puzzlement, and a trace of lingering astonishment still showed on her vivid face.
"That melody you were just playing…" Phyllis had stopped her flute practice and was about to leave when she caught Lucian's smooth final passage. His technique was still unpolished, the tempo still somewhat slow, yet it sounded… surprisingly decent. She couldn't believe it.
Lucian had always interrupted the *Fate Symphony's* melody with his clumsy playing, letting anyone nearby hear only fragments. Just as a pleasant feeling began to build, his clunky execution would shatter it. So Phyllis, Lot, and the others in the same music room had simply noticed his improving technique, not the quality of the composition itself. Until now — when Lucian, playing through to the end with growing fluency, delivered the closing passage in a single uninterrupted flow, creating a stark contrast that hit Phyllis like a jolt.
Three days left. Only a week until the concert. Lucian planned to ask Mr. Victor to "evaluate" his piece tomorrow or the day after. So rather than panicking at Phyllis's confusion, he felt this was exactly what he needed — he wanted them to feel this way. Even if Phyllis hadn't noticed today, he would have found an opportunity tomorrow to produce a similar reaction.
"Phyllis, do you have any thoughts?" Lucian offered a "sincere," polite smile.
Phyllis lowered her flute, her mouth opening and closing: "That… your… your playing has improved a lot."
She still didn't believe the melody was Lucian's own composition, attributing it instead to his improved piano technique. The piece must be some piano work she hadn't heard before — after all, her focus was the flute.
Lucian only needed to plant the impression. Seeing she wouldn't press further, he smiled and said: "Thank you for the kind words, Phyllis. Night is falling, and it looks like we might have a Storm tonight, so I should head back."
In the "Harvest Moon" — September — the weather remained sweltering. The Dark Mountains blocked the monsoons, and the whole of Valoit Park sat in a basin, so heavy rainstorms hit every few days during these months. Today, before six o'clock, the sky had already darkened as though it were seven or eight. The air was humid and oppressive, as if a deluge could crash down at any moment.
"See you tomorrow, then, Lucian." Phyllis replied with unusual normality, then watched his retreating back as he left the music room. The puzzlement still lingered on her face despite the conclusion she had already reached.
Meanwhile, Lot and Herodotus had left some time ago, leaving her with no one to consult.
Lucian walked downstairs and spotted the butler Ace directing servants in cleaning the hall. He approached and asked: "Mr. Ace, where is Mr. Victor? I'd like to speak with him." Since Phyllis had already noticed, Lucian decided to move up his timeline. In matters like these, sooner was always better than later.
Ace wore his usual expression — grave, proper, brimming with courtesy: "Mr. Victor has gone to the cemetery. He may not return until very late. Is it urgent, Mr. Lucian?"
"Tomorrow will do." Lucian didn't know how long the wait might be, so he pushed it to tomorrow. He still had arcane experiments to conduct back home — *that* was his true path going forward.
Over these past weeks, Lucian had basically grasped the *Arcane* journal's contents and used every available reference, document, and book in the library to rapidly fill in his foundational knowledge. This was the phase where his analysis, construction, and application of Arcane Magic advanced swiftly. For instance, drawing on certain principles of frequency and vibration, he had restructured the spell "Homans's Cough" — a sonic-type Magic — modifying both its structure and casting process. After numerous experiments, he had created two new apprentice-level informal spells, the likes of which he wasn't sure even the Continental Magic Parliament's headquarters possessed.
By comparison, his progress in soul and mental power lagged far behind the fusion of knowledge with magic and his rate of comprehension. He was still a little short of being able to cast ten consecutive apprentice-level spells — the threshold for becoming a full Magic Apprentice. This was the complete opposite of the typical apprentice's situation, since this stage was supposed to be one of rapid mental power growth. As long as one's talent wasn't too poor, anyone could reach the level of senior Magic Apprentice within a year or two. Normally, knowledge acquisition should lag behind mental power growth, not the other way around.
…………
As the evening grew darker, Lucian walked into Aunt Elisa's home. He casually glanced at the corner of the neighboring house and immediately spotted a new mark where the previous one had been erased.
*News of an evil creature…* Without betraying any change in expression — as though he had merely happened to look over — Lucian walked inside Aunt Elisa's house.
The set of drawings Smale had left conveyed: "Respected Professor, the Sage has news of an evil creature. Tonight at ten o'clock. The usual place. — Owl."