Lucian, by nature rather introverted and not adept at expressing emotions, used the piano, used music, to pour out the feelings buried inside him for the very first time — thoroughly, completely. It was a stubborn defiance toward life, a steadfast devotion to ideals and love, an absolute refusal to compromise with hardship and setbacks, never to surrender, a fierce struggle against so-called destiny.
The intensity of his emotions drove the turbulence of the music. Even though, in the midst of it all, his lack of piano proficiency and the incompleteness of certain melodies left many flaws in his performance and the piece itself, the emotional resonance of the music drowned them out entirely. Every note, every passage of melody felt like a heated battle, a valiant fight to the death. The five "audience members," each in a different mood and frame of mind, were drawn just as deeply into the powerful, surging atmosphere of the music — yet each responded in their own way.
Phyllis, the most sensitive of them all, clasped her hands together so tightly they nearly twisted out of shape. Her expression was laced with tension and unease. After her father had failed to inherit the family title, the ridicule and disdain from her peers and relatives had haunted her. After much hesitation, she had refused to give up on her future by simply marrying some nobleman; instead, with trepidation, with anxiety, she had embarked on the study of music. Those fierce notes were like the difficulties and setbacks she had so often encountered and dreamed of in recent years — they came crashing toward her without mercy, like a violent storm.
"Can I overcome these obstacles? Become a true musician?"
"Can I earn a place of my own, choose my own partner, rather than be chosen by others?"
As the melody surged higher and higher, Phyllis grew more and more tense, more and more agonized.
Lot and
The repeated, fearsome thematic passages swept over them in waves, bringing to mind every hardship and failure they had encountered since choosing the path of music — the sneering remarks and cutting blows, the contemptuous glances. Were they right? Was this all they would ever amount to — mere musicians, living ordinary and unremarkable lives — or could they overcome countless obstacles and fight their way to the summit of music?
The notes, so fierce they seemed to make one tremble, hammered against their hearts. On the surface of Lot's hands, blue veins stood out one by one, as if the detestable face of Mackenzie loomed before him, as if his very first concert was about to begin.
And Herodotus, whose temperament was a touch more timid, felt as though he were being battered by the surging tides of fate itself. His face was tight with tension as he edged backward, step by step.
The elegant smile that usually graced Rhein's face had vanished. His silver eyes, ordinarily still and placid, churned with the music's surging current. His hands tapped along with the melody, and he murmured under his breath, "Is fate knocking at the door? Heh… it's been a long time since I felt such intense emotions."
The most excited, the most completely consumed, was Victor. His hands were clenched tight, his expression almost delirious, his body trembling with each passage of fierce melody. He thought of his failed debut concert, of how Madam's comfort and encouragement had helped him pull himself together — how he had begged countless people, endured endless mockery and scorn, and finally secured the chance for a second concert, which turned out to be a resounding success.
He thought of Madam's passing, and the years of dissolution that followed — and then, driven by a wish to fulfill Madam's dying dream, he had clawed his way out of the mire bit by bit to become an outstanding musician, earning the opportunity to hold a concert in the Sacred Hymn Hall.
He thought of how he had burned every last drop of passion and energy for that concert, only to fail at the final step — nine years of effort, and still he had not composed the piece he held in his heart. He thought of Wolf's malicious mockery and retaliation, of Baron
All of it was transformed into notes fierce as flying arrows, into passages of melody that struck like hammer blows, attacking, pummeling Victor's very soul — trying to make him submit, trying to make him surrender.
But woven into that melody was an unyielding defiance — the determination to fight hardship and setbacks to the bitter end, the stubborn refusal to yield to fate. And that lit a fierce fighting spirit in Victor's heart.
"I've failed so many times and still picked myself back up — could one more failure really break me?"
"So long as there is hope, I cannot give up!"
"Winnie… is this you, encouraging me?"
Around seven minutes and twenty seconds into the first movement of the Fate Symphony, the melody surged with the fury of a tempest. By the time Lucian had played past the five-minute mark, he felt his body growing weak, his hands losing strength. He knew it was his still-unhealed injuries conspiring against him — the aftereffects of pushing his body to the limit while sprinting through the downpour. A thought crept in: he had already played this much, they could surely tell whether it was good or bad, so why force himself to continue? But that thought was immediately vetoed by the very emotional resonance Lucian shared with the music.
"If I'm going to play, I'll play it through to the end — how can I just stop and give up?!"
"I want to encourage
Lucian gritted his teeth and pressed down hard. The melody wobbled like a tightrope walker on a wire, ready to fall at any moment. Victor and the others listened with ever-deepening anxiety, ever-mounting tension — even Phyllis and Herodotus could not help pressing a hand over their hearts.
Fortunately, the next passage eased into something more soothing, building toward the first movement's conclusion. Lucian finally had a chance to catch his breath and recover a little strength before unleashing another explosion of fierce notes and surging melody. They layered upon themselves, cycling and swelling, before cutting off abruptly. Phyllis and the others jolted physically, a wave of exhaustion washing over their minds — that was always how the fiercest battles ended.
After a brief calm, Lucian began playing the second movement. A gentle melody flowed forth, like shafts of sunlight piercing through a storm, dispelling much of the gloom. The violent winds and waves subsided for a moment; on the battlefield of fierce combat, soldiers retreated to their camps like a receding tide, and the fighting entered a lull of tense equilibrium.
That melody was like a healing balm, mending all the bleeding wounds. It was like the warm hands and embrace of a loved one, soothing the inner scars left by the struggle against fate. The expressions of Victor, Phyllis, and the others gradually returned to normal, no longer so wild or contorted — as though the warriors had been granted rest and were now gathering strength for the battles to come, thinking through their strategies.
Amid the gentle, uplifting, encouraging melody, Lucian himself found an opportunity to recover his strength.
Time passed quickly. More than ten minutes slipped by almost without notice, the tranquil melody standing in vivid contrast to the earlier fierce and powerful music. Then came another brief stillness.
And then Lucian began playing the third and fourth movements in succession. The melody shifted, turning somber and dark.
The sunlight vanished. The gloom returned. The sky dimmed. The sea lay calm, as though brewing an even greater tempest. And over the battlefield, dark clouds gathered once more — danger and the terror of combat were about to begin anew. The soldiers took up their weapons and marched back toward the front.