“Let them suffer!” Ekaterina humphed, then lifted one hand. “There is no point in wasting our breaths. Everyone!” She brought her hand down. “Rid me of them!”
The drums thundered as a herd of monsters popped onto the backdrop.
“W-Wait!” Marina and her friends cried in unison, finally snapping out of their daze.
They pretended to dodge the onslaught of monsters while chasing after the villainess, who walked away at an unhurried pace. With a wave of Renato’s hand, a flash of light hit the three of them, making them topple over (they threw themselves to the ground on purpose, of course).
Renato followed Ekaterina offstage, with Marina and her two friends rushing to follow them.
“Wait!” the saint said, stopping them. “Let us retreat for now.”
“Why flee when you could easily defeat her?!” Goku protested.
Anemoni gazed in the direction the villainess had disappeared. “Because she doesn’t seem like a bad person to me.”
This line had been written with tiny, harmless Olga in mind and should not have worked here. And yet, against all odds, the spectators found themselves agreeing with the saint.
“That was so much fun!” Renato told me with a smile as soon as we were back in the coulisse.
He seemed especially pleased with the light he’d flashed with a wave of his hand. He’d practiced the motion and timing with Yuri many times during rehearsal, but nothing beat doing it onstage. In every world, boys loved that sort of thing, didn’t they?
I was a little jealous. How could he relax enough to enjoy himself that much?
“Aren’t you nervous, Lord Renato?”
“Nervous? What does that word mean, I wonder?” he replied, tilting his head in exaggerated confusion before laughing.
That made me laugh too. Had he just told this world’s version of the classic “What’s this? Can I eat it?” joke?
Come to think of it, Renato hadn’t looked stressed at all while performing in front of the former emperor and empress and talking to them afterward.
Geniuses chosen by the gods are just built different.
“Thank you for cheering me up. The next scene rests on your shoulders. The public has come to listen to great music, so please make it worth their while.”
“Of course. You can leave that to me.”
The saint and her group left the stage, and for a few moments it remained empty.
Another round of whispers ran through the auditorium. Most spectators were impressed by the light effects, surprised by how intense they had made the battle scenes feel.
Naturally, the name Ekaterina Yulnova was on many lips. Some laughed as they discussed her, while groups of men exchanged comments in low voices. Her appearance had been so striking that it was no wonder she dominated the conversation. Alexei’s advisors, however, prayed their master wouldn’t hear anything too compromising.
Fortunately, Alexei was far too worried about his poor darling sister—forced to play a role so diametrically opposed to her sweet nature—that he didn’t hear a thing.
“She has to say such cruel things, things she’d never mean... Her heart must ache.”
Alexei wasn’t used to the theater, and he fretted over Ekaterina so much that the distinction between fiction and reality blurred in his mind. His advisors (especially Aaron and Halil) listened to his muttering, equal parts relieved and concerned, all while mentally cataloging every remark they heard about Ekaterina and who had said it.
Not far from them, someone else was just as shaken as Alexei.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“I...don’t know. My feelings are a mess right now.”
It was in the midst of this confusion that Renato took to the stage.
The whispering died down in an instant, replaced by a heated silence.
Renato had become an overnight celebrity at the academy. For a time, clusters of students had crowded the windows of Ekaterina’s class, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and Olga. By now, every student knew his face, and with his good looks, he had gathered quite a few admirers.
He crossed the stage briskly and descended a small staircase at the edge. To the spectators’ surprise, he stepped off the stage and headed straight for the orchestra pit, where the drum players had been stationed since the beginning of the play.
He surprised them further by opening the fallboard and sitting down.
Renato had originally been meant to accompany Olga with a lute—a half-pear-shaped string instrument that resembled the mandolin and the biwa. As Ekaterina vaguely recalled, the lute had been popular in Europe from the Middle Ages to the early modern period before the guitar replaced it in most contexts. Renato had chosen it because it could be played onstage without disrupting the context of the story.
However, Olga had been spirited away. The lute’s delicate, elegant tone wasn’t very loud; it would have complemented Olga’s masterful singing, but Ekaterina could barely manage the song. She needed more support than the lute could offer. Renato also wanted to cover up any mistakes she might make. The public had come to hear a genius songstress, and they had to meet their expectations somehow. That was why Renato himself had suggested switching to the piano.
That decision created the surreal sight of an actor leaving the stage mid-play to head to the orchestra pit.
Renato was about to play a solo he’d never practiced, but he wasn’t nervous at all—he didn’t even know what the word meant, by his own admission.
He rested his fingers against the keys, then they began to dance, light and airy.
Bright, cheerful notes spilled from the piano. Renato was playing the retainer of a villainess who hurt people, and quizzical looks spread across the audience. They weren’t sure what was happening, but the lighthearted music swept them along.
Every note seemed to bounce, filled to the brim with dreams and hope, like early summer sunlight. The melody started soft and sweet before shifting into something refined and noble. Through every variation, it was breathtakingly beautiful.
The audience listened, enraptured by the comfortable tune, until Renato paused for a beat. Then, he slammed his fingers against the keys, bringing the melody back—a violent tempest, cold and dark. The tempo surged, notes rushing forward, dizzyingly fast, yet low, dark, and relentless like pouring rain. Violent bursts, reminiscent of desperate screams, broke the rhythm here and there. It was as though the heavens were collapsing onto the earth at the command of a furious god.
Some of those watching clutched each other’s hands; others curled into themselves in fear.
The melody shifted once more. Fury ebbed into sorrow—a depressed, hopeless trudge in the dark. The glimmering hope of the first bars vanished, along with the dreams and sweet nobility of the earlier notes. They were gone, never to return, though the audience did not yet know it.
Renato had woven the tragic fate of the villainess and her people in the piece: the abruptness of the disaster that shattered her homeland, the hopeless wandering that followed.
Ideas might have taken shape in his mind as he practiced his role. Perhaps the piece had been almost complete in his imagination. But he’d never played it before today, in front of a full house.
His talent spoke for him, and he moved every person within earshot.
Deep hopelessness settled over the auditorium as he played the last notes. Around him, the colorful hues of the God of Music’s light glimmered.
Lost as they’d been in the music, no one had noticed the blessing until the very end. When they finally did, thunderous applause erupted. Renato ignored it entirely. His eyes were fixed on the stage.
The public followed his gaze—and there they saw a beautiful young woman draped in black flames: the villainess played by the lady of the House of Yulnova.
I’m so stressed I feel like my heart might jump out of my chest.
Alone on the stage, the auditorium seemed larger and fuller than ever, yet strangely distant. Maybe it was Yuri’s light, wrapping me like a cocoon, but everything felt dreamlike.
Somehow, I was reminded of a dream I’d seen many times in the past. In it, I walked through endless ruins. I couldn’t tell whether it was something I had dreamed as a child or something I had seen in my previous life.
I wondered, absently, if this was what being in a trance felt like. Even my nervousness seemed far away, blurred at the edges.
Ekaterina was still beautiful onstage, even standing motionless, her pale face shadowed with sorrow. Despite being clad in the villainess’s costume, her natural elegance as the lady of a ducal family shone through.
The audience stared, wide-eyed. She looked nothing like the villainess who’d opposed the saint moments ago. It was as though she might disappear if they blinked.
She and Renato exchanged a glance. His fingers pressed the first keys, and Ekaterina began to sing, her expression as dazed as a dreamer’s.
The song she’d chosen was one of the most famous musical numbers from her past world. In its original context, the heroine sang it in despair after all her hopes had been crushed.