Captivating Monica with Love's Greeting
When crafting my beautiful, magnificent violin, I'd focused entirely on perfectly recreating the instrument I knew from Earth. There'd been no strict deadline back then, so I hadn't overlooked even the tiniest imperfection. But this time was different. I had just over two weeks left. And factoring in time to get used to the modified instrument and practice the piece? It was going to be tight.
"Are you insane?"
It was only natural that my friend, who'd come at my request, hit me with that question the moment she arrived.
My friend's name was Monica. She had thick black hair, dark eyes, and sharp features. Like me, she was from nobility and shared my passion for music. Her family were vassals to our Clover Count household, but we didn't stand on ceremony—who was above or below whom didn't matter. Her father and mine went way back, after all. Naturally, Monica had been in and out of our home since we were kids, and we'd hit it off right away. Probably because we both loved music.
Now, that Monica was looking at me with a grave expression.
"You have to practice a new piece, and on a modified instrument to boot? And you haven't even started the modifications yet?"
Hmm. Hearing it from someone else, yeah, it did sound completely nuts. But I declared confidently,
"Scared?"
"What?"
Oh, right—that wasn't the right expression here. I rephrased it in a way she'd get.
"I'm going to perform a brand-new composition on a freshly made instrument in two weeks. Think you can handle it?"
Her face went through a rainbow of emotions at my words—flushing red, paling white, twisting in frustration. What an expressive friend.
"Handle it? Of course I can! Piece of cake!"
And just like that, she gave me the answer I'd hoped for. Grinning, I said,
"Knew it! I never doubted the genius everyone's talking about would say yes!"
"O-of course!"
Monica nodded along, but her eyes shot me a glare that could kill. Whatever.
But I wasn't just buttering her up. Sure, I'd been called a genius as a kid too, but that was thanks to my past-life memories. Monica? She was the real deal. She'd mastered instruments young and started composing her own pieces at just ten. I'd lost count of the times I'd watched her in awe.
Anyway, hands on her hips, Monica grumbled,
"So, what piece is so special you need to mod an instrument for it?"
Her face screamed, Let me hear it.
By the way, even as we chatted, Dale was over there disassembling the carillon just like I'd asked. I gave him a quick nod of thanks, then turned to Monica.
"Well, my practicing's still rough. Want a listen?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. I picked up the violin. Monica didn't bat an eye at it—she'd seen it plenty during crafting. It wasn't finished back then, so no full performances, but she knew the instrument itself. This would be my first real playthrough.
"Whew."
Knowing full well how much of a genius Monica was, I tensed up a bit as I got into position. But the tension melted away the moment I raised the bow. The workshop faded from view. All that remained was the violin.
Swoosh.
Before diving in, I habitually checked the bridge—the wood we'd carved together with Dale, making sure it held the strings' tension and pressed firmly against the top. The bow hair's tension? Perfect—not too tight, not too loose. Then I pressed my left ear close to the instrument.
Ting, ding—
From the high E string down to the low G. I plucked lightly with my fingertips. The fresh, vibrant resonance of the newborn violin traveled up my fingers. Tuning was spot-on.
"Hoo."
One last short exhale, violin tucked between shoulder and chin rest. Then—
Swooooosh—
The bow met strings, and the note flowed out. This piece normally had piano accompaniment, but solo violin would have to fill the space. So I wove in a richer vibrato than usual.
―――.
The warm, lyrical melody spread through the workshop. I'd chosen it for my one and only brother's wedding. There were grander, more overwhelming options, but I picked this one thinking of him. Warmth over majesty. Affection over dominance.
Like a tentative first greeting to a loved one, I poured sibling love into every note.
―――!
The violin's sharp tones coursed through my body—electrifying. This was why I'd decided to recreate Earth's instruments here. This world had its own fine ones, but the violin's delicate, piercing, exquisite beauty? Unmatched.
Or maybe I just loved the violin that much.
――.
As the bow glided over strings, the notes danced endlessly. At some point, I forgot this was the workshop. Forgot Monica was there. In that moment, only I and the violin existed.
Lost in that transcendent joy, I played on without a thought.
――――――――.
When the piece finally ended—
"Haa!"
I exhaled the breath I'd been holding and gulped down fresh air. I'd been so immersed I'd forgotten to breathe. Pretty amateurish, but hey, I'd never been a pro.
Still, it felt great despite the long hiatus. Rough around the edges, but two weeks of polishing would get it performance-ready.
That thought crossed my mind. Then I remembered Monica and looked her way.
And froze.
She was staring at me with an expression I'd never seen before. Face flushed red. Eyes glazed, like she was entranced.
I waited a beat, but she seemed liable to stay spaced out, so I asked,
"So, what'd you think?"
"……."
She blinked at my question. Then, snapping to, her eyes widened.
"Huh? W-what'd you say?"
"The piece I just played. Thoughts?"
"Oh……."
What was with her? She looked like a malfunctioning doll.
"You okay?"
"N-no! I mean, uh—so this is your new composition?"
"Yeah."
It pricked my conscience a little, but I nodded. I wanted the best for my brother, after all.
Anyway, Monica flapped her mouth for a good while before squeezing out,
"This…… it's…… so, you want me to play this on the modified carillon? With you?"
"Yeah. Too tough? I can find someone else if it's a stretch."
I teased her a bit. With her pride in her skills, she'd fire back that it was nonsense.
But Monica surprised me.
"No! Let me play it!"
Well, she did agree like I'd hoped.
"Please! I'm begging you!"
Just…… way more dramatically than expected. She'd have grabbed my pant leg if I'd said no.
"Uh, sure. I'd love to do it together."
"For real? No take-backs? You have to play it with me!"
"Yeah, yeah."
This time, I was nodding furiously under her intensity.
"Great! I'll grab my stuff!"
"Huh…… what?"
"Time's short! We need to practice here nonstop, so I gotta bring my things!"
With that, Monica bolted from the workshop. I stared blankly after her, scratched my head, and turned to Dale.
"Uh…… was my playing that bad?"
"No!"
He shot back firmly.
"It was truly, truly magnificent, young master. It nearly brought me to tears."
"Haha, you're exaggerating."
"No exaggeration! Such a beautiful melody!"
His words lifted my spirits, and I jumped back in to help with the modifications.
Monica thought to herself in the carriage heading home.
Am I losing it?
She wondered if she was out of her mind. And she had good reason.
Arden's performance was beyond beautiful—it was shocking.
But what really threw her…… was how cool he'd looked, utterly absorbed in that new instrument, the violin.
"No!"
She yelled out loud for no reason. It wasn't that Arden was cool. It was just the music—too beautiful, that's all!
Repeating that to herself, Monica shook her head furiously, as if to shake off the thought.