Please, don’t spread any more rumors.
Everyone at school thought I’d written the songs, so it was only a matter of time before stories spread further, but I didn’t want people in other countries knowing about it.
“Leaving that aside,” I continued, “I was hoping to ask you for advice about another song today. We will be presenting a musical at the academy’s festival, and Lord Rena—um, Lord Selesar—and I were wondering how best to present a certain piece.”
“Oh, a musical, you say?”
Madam DiDonato’s eyes gleamed. This was her domain.
I quickly waved my hand. “It’s nothing more than a little student’s play—nothing like the operas you performed. I’m sure you’ll find it quite laughable.”
“Eh heh heh! I wonder about that.”
Her laughter was somehow loaded with meaning.
I swear, it’s just a school play! My script is super lazy too!
Little did I know that no one believed me anymore when I tried to downplay things.
“Lady Olga couldn’t be here, as she had to head to the Music Sanctuary,” I said. “It’s most belated, but I’d like to devote myself to studying with you again, so I may learn from you and share your expertise with my class to make our musical the best it can be.”
Now that Olga had the full backing of the Music Sanctuary, she no longer needed my support when it came to lessons. The priests were all elite musicians who’d entered the sanctuary in their own right. From now on, I wanted to return to studying singing myself.
I’d initially picked it up again to build stamina, but with everything that had happened along the way, I’d started neglecting my own practice. I wanted to get back to it—and also hoped to get some pointers from Madam DiDonato about performing onstage.
“Gladly, my lady,” she said. “Might I take a look at the score you wish to practice?”
Madam DiDonato could hardly hide her excitement as she began reading through the sheet music Renato had transcribed for me.
I eagerly waited for her to finish, having forgotten one crucial thing: Madam DiDonato was a true sadist when she taught.
“Wait. You’ve improved by leaps and bounds since the last time, haven’t you?” Renato stared at me, eyes wide.
“Oh ho ho. I haven’t improved that much,” I answered, a smug smile curling my lips despite myself.
My progress was, in fact, visible at first glance—or rather, audible at first listen.
A little while ago, I’d sung the main song of the musical for Renato to transcribe. While I’d managed to stay on pitch, I hadn’t been able to express much, and the climax had fallen flat. Given my priorities at the time, I’d focused on the pitch over all else, but the result had still been rather mediocre. I’d had to explain the nuances to Renato with words.
Today, however, after returning to the academy and sharing Madam DiDonato’s advice with Renato and Olga, they’d asked me to sing the song again to demonstrate. Renato played the accompaniment for me and I’d done a pretty good job, if I dared say so myself.
“All the credit should go to Madam DiDonato,” I said. “Her guidance is always precise and on point.”
Although...it had been hard.
Remembering that lesson had me looking in the distance with a grave expression.
“Impossible! I can’t!”
“Aha! The word impossible is strictly forbidden during lessons, my lady. Picture yourself slashing it in half with a sword and never utter it again! You’re close to getting it right—close to snuffing out impossible for good! Come now, my lady, let us finish it off together! Let your voice echo, high and strong! You’re almost there!”
Why does she always have to say things in the scariest way possible?! And what’s the deal with that smile of hers?! There’s no mercy in her eyes! I’m so scared!!!
As it turned out, Madam DiDonato was right. The light was right there at the end of the tunnel, and the more I sang, the closer it came. Thanks to her dangling the carrot of progress in front of me, I eventually made it to the other side.
Olga must have felt the same way when Madam DiDonato drilled all that technique into her in such a short time. It was thanks to her that Olga had been able to proudly accept the God of Music’s summons.
Madam DiDonato’s lessons were brutal, but she always seemed to be having the time of her life, like the true sadist she was.
Somehow, I was reminded of a sentence I’d read somewhere in my previous life: The S of sadist is the S of service. A true sadist must have the ability to torment and tease their partner while simultaneously guiding them to pleasure—sadism is born of the desire to provide devoted service.
While Madam DiDonato didn’t lead her students toward carnal pleasure, she was undoubtedly an accomplished sadist. The king—or rather, the queen of all sadists!
I just gave her a crazy nickname, didn’t I?
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that a whip would look divine in her hand, even if I was sorry for that.
Though it definitely would. Look good, that is.
I was quite happy with my progress, but the moment Olga started singing, I had to laugh at myself.
Yeaaaah. The gap really is something.
She made me realize all over again the difference between an amateur who enjoys singing and a professional.
Olga didn’t just sing—she made you feel every bit of tension and release. That was the kind of performance that earned standing ovations, and proof that she was a true songstress!
I clapped with all my might as soon as she finished.
Aside from singing practice, we started rehearsing lines in groups.
Some lines that had looked perfectly fine on paper now proved difficult to say—confusing, awkward, or clunky—and I started revising the script with zeal almost every day.
Another issue was timing. The length of the play I’d envisioned while writing the script didn’t match the time it took for everyone to get in position and deliver their lines.
This will never fit in our time slot! I need to make cuts somewhere!
For the first time in my life, I learned that a script was never truly complete. Not until the performance was over and done with.
But, seriously... How do I make everything fit?
The nice thing about everyone living in the dorms was that no one could skip after-class practice with easy excuses like My house is far away, so I have to leave early.
Or so I’d thought. As it turned out, some of my classmates—all boys—were surprisingly busy. One had martial training after school, while another belonged to a research society or seminar, or something along those lines.
Their explanations convinced me at first, but when I asked more in depth, I discovered the truth wasn’t so simple.
All three were second sons of minor noble families. They wouldn’t inherit and had to find their own paths after graduation, whether through adoption into another family, marrying into their wife’s family, or getting a job.
In this day and age, the most common career paths for second sons were knight and government official. They didn’t have many options, so from their first year onward, they had to devote their time to training, networking, and other activities useful for their future. For people like them, the Magic Academy wasn’t just a place to find a spouse; it was their best shot at securing a job.
Well, it makes sense.
There was a university in the empire, but very few students advanced to higher education. College was more like joining an elite research institution, so unless one aimed to become a scholar, it wasn’t even considered. Even among Alexei’s advisors, Aaron was the only university graduate.
It was common to find a job right after graduating from the Magic Academy. Plenty of youths our age already worked, or at least helped with the family business if they weren’t in school. If one’s family business was prosperous enough to offer work, that was a blessing.