Alexei popped into my mind. Not the Alexei of today, but the young boy I used to look at through my window, the boy I didn’t know anything about except that he had a pretty face—the boy who could do nothing else but ride past the mansion where his mother and sister were locked up. That boy had carried the House of Yulnova on his back alone at the young age of ten, after our grandfather passed away. What a lonely child Alexei once had been.
Alexei loved me so much because of the solitude he’d endured. I treated him like the most important thing in the world because I’d lived through that same solitude during my years as a corporate slave in my past life, and my childhood in this one.
I wasn’t discovering the lyrics today—far from it—but they somehow moved me to my very core. Tears welled up in my eyes.
Olga’s songs touched the hearts of those who listened to them.
I didn’t mean to say that heart was more important than technique or anything like that. Technique was what allowed you to sing in a way that touched the heart, and Lydia had wonderful technique.
If anything, I got the feeling that Lydia lacked just one important skill. If you let your technique show, it pulled the listener out of their trance. Being able to hide your pride in your technique was a skill of its own, and Lydia had not mastered it. Still, considering her age, the fact that she’d mastered the rest was already a great feat. I understood why she was so proud of herself.
Olga, however, hadn’t learned all this in a conscious way. Her talent was innate. If she learned more and refined her technique while maintaining this quality, she’d surely shake people’s hearts like an earthquake one day.
Renato’s accompaniment discreetly supported her. They’d added pauses where Olga could breathe while Renato played freely, weaving the main motifs of the song into lively melodies. Before listening to him play, I’d had no idea the piano could produce such multicolored sounds.
He wasn’t playing in an unusual way, or at least I didn’t think so. I wasn’t all that familiar with piano techniques. However, I knew that the sounds he produced sparkled. Some were so heart-wrenching they seemed to be weeping, while others were so full of love it felt as though they’d wrapped me in their warmth. Renato’s notes were as expressive as a person’s voice.
He had once told me he was good with anything that could make sound. Just like Olga, he was a natural prodigy, able to move others with his music. When they performed together, they each drew out the potential of the other. It was as though the two of them together were a single player—a musician whose instrument was the hearts of their audience, able to draw out joy and sadness at will.
The song reached its final part, and Olga sang with power and tenderness, evoking love and solace in our hearts until finally she belted out the last phrase:
“Live as you wish, head toward the bright future,
And I’ll keep on singing for you forevermore.”
A single tear ran down the former empress’s cheek.
Soundlessly, in my heart, I called Olga’s name.
You did it. You did it, Olga.
Echoes lingered as the singing came to an end. The piano gently repeated the main motif once more, and finally, silence returned.
At that moment, the heavens moved. The thick clouds split, letting light spill onto the stage. These were crepuscular rays, or as we referred to it in Japanese, an angel’s ladder.
The light fell right onto the stage, illuminating Olga and Renato with a divine glow.
Despite being rendered speechless at the spectacle in front of me, I couldn’t help but think: Wait, this looks a little too perfect...
The next second, the light started taking on colorful hues. Before long, it looked as though a rainbow was undulating in the air.
Wh-What in the world? Is there some large prism reflecting light somewhere? Or is this an aurora, entirely localized to this spot...?
Are you stupid, me?! It can’t possibly be an aurora!
Now wasn’t the time to argue with myself over stupid theories, but how could there be so much light pouring in despite the thick clouds? Where were those colors coming from?!
This has to be a supernatural phenomenon!
According to the Buddhist scriptures, auspicious clouds and rays formed in the sky when the Buddha welcomed enlightened beings...or something along those lines. The light reminded me of a depiction of Buddha riding on colorful clouds while celestial maidens danced in the background.
Somehow, that thought came true. A winged figure descended from the rift between the clouds. Just like the angel’s ladder, the spread-out wings of that being shone with prismatic hues, while long plumes and a feathery tail fluttered in the wind. That beautiful being was none other than...
Without a sound, the former empress stood up, bowing before the winged figure. The former empress, the mother of the ruling emperor, the noblest woman in the nation was bowing. Right after, the former emperor stood up and imitated her.
O-O-Okay, there’s no room for doubt now!
The God of Music has descended!
I jumped to my feet and bowed, and so did Mikhail. Soon after, Lydia did the same, her cheeks flushed red.
The God of Music descended until he was right above the theater and circled it once before stopping in front of the VIP seats. He did not touch the ground but floated there, observing us. His wings weren’t flapping anymore, yet he could still float with perfect stillness. Just like Vladforen, he seemed unaffected by the laws of physics. I had no idea whether they used mana or divine powers to achieve this, but it worked somehow.
From up close, the God of Music was bewitching. His features were androgynous and refined. He had large almond eyes that seemed to shift constantly between colors. One moment they were blue, then red, then black. His lips, arched in an archaic smile, were so full and red they seemed to have been painted with rouge. His hair was a mixture of blue, red, yellow, black, and white, shining vividly like the feathers of a tropical bird. He wore ancient-looking clothes that reminded me of Asian celestial maidens or the goddess Benzaiten. The long, fluttering tail feathers that sprouted from his temples also brought to mind the grace of celestial maidens.
Unlike the God of Death or the mountain gods, he didn’t exude the sort of divine pressure that made it difficult to so much as move in his presence. Instead, I found myself drawn to him with an irresistible force, so completely that nothing else registered, as though my heart had been swept away.
The God of Music looked at the former empress and smiled, his large eyes narrowing slightly.