The Piano Summons Fire and Lightning

No way, right? The wedding concluded without a hitch. Especially my brother—he looked absolutely blissful. And who could blame him? He was marrying the woman he truly loved.

Love marriages aren't unheard of in this world. Surprisingly, plenty of people end up with the ones they care about. But for noble families, marriages are more often about alliances and benefits than romance. A single good match can expand a house's influence dramatically, while a bad one can shrink it overnight.

Still, our parents hadn't forced Kyle into anything. Dad had met Mom through courtship himself, after all. Seeing my brother's joy filled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me with real warmth.

"Went off without a hitch, huh."

I turned at the voice right beside me. There was Monica, meticulously wiping down each key of the carillon.

"You don't have to do it yourself," I told her.

"What are you talking about? You gotta take the best care of your own instrument."

"But since when was that...?"

I shut my mouth before finishing. Her eyes had narrowed. No need for an argument on a day like this. Looked like she'd bonded with it plenty over the last two weeks of practice.

"The modifications aren't fully done yet, though."

"Huh? You mean more tweaks here?"

Monica tilted her head.

"More precisely, I'm thinking of building a completely new instrument, like with this violin."

I lifted the violin I'd been polishing with the cloth.

The performance had gone smoothly, but the carillon mods had their issues. I'd tailored them specifically for Salut d'Amour, after all—essentially a one-song wonder.

"For real? How?"

Monica's eyes sparkled with interest. I gave her the rundown.

"First off, new materials overall. The current wood just doesn't resonate the way I want. So, something from the south, where they grow a lot of... "

Yeah. As simple as I could make it, by my standards. Luckily, Monica loved instruments as much as I did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and listened intently to the end.

"Sounds fun! If you do it like that, the tone should be way richer!"

"Right? Carillon's not bad, but it doesn't fit the pieces I have in mind. Gonna focus on the piano for a while."

"Already named it?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah."

I hadn't planned to spill it yet, but it slipped out.

Monica muttered "piano, piano" to herself, then grinned.

"Cool name! I like it!"

"Phew, good."

"So, first pianist on Piano No. 1 is me, right?"

"Huh?"

"In return, I'll come help every day! Free genius assistance!"

Hmm. Telling her I didn't need help for the rest would probably tick her off. I pondered a sec, then nodded.

I had something to ask her anyway, even if not for the piano. Our next performance.

Yeah. The Armonia temple wanted an encore. I'd asked for plenty of lead time, so there was some buffer, but better overprepared than under.

Still, I held off mentioning it. She'd freak out—in a good way.

"Anyway, good work out there."

"Work? Call me anytime for this stuff. Especially new pieces—summon me no matter what."

She flashed a toothy grin. I smiled awkwardly back.

Salut d'Amour wasn't mine, after all. But whatever. I'd made up my mind on that front. No more agonizing.

We chatted a bit more before I stood for the post-wedding feast.

Lately, the capital had been abuzz with talk of the Clover estate's wedding—even weeks later.

Some focused on the marriage itself, but the real star was my performance.

"Salut d'Amour, was it? Beautiful piece."

"Totally! Imagine that at my wedding—pure bliss!"

"Right? Should I send a letter now?"

"What? Who you marrying?"

"No! What if he's booked solid later?"

Women gossiped like this whenever they gathered.

"Hmm. Not ordinary at all."

"Ordinary? That level's beyond. Gave me chills, honestly."

"Can't judge fully since it's a new instrument, but the depth was impressive for his age. Expressive emotions, too."

"Exactly! And the melody—so delicate. Echoes commoner trends lately, but laced with noble grace and elegance!"

Anyone with musical taste dissected the piece endlessly.

"That violin thing—fascinating, no?"

"Absolutely. Nothing like the belle na din. Folks fixate on the music, but that violin's the real invention."

"Ha! I'd kill to play it once. Not selling it?"

Enthusiasts eyed the violin itself.

Countless voices buzzed about me and my music.

But temples mentioned my name most.

"We need to commission him somehow."

"Agreed. If he composes like that, he'll please our goddess."

—Goddess of Beauty.

"Let's try. Budget's no object."

—God of Wealth.

"Need a piece roaring with warrior spirit!"

"Agreed!"

—God of Warriors.

And so on. Temples mobilized for pieces ahead of the grand festival.

Meanwhile, I was lost in deep thought.

"Hmm... what wood for it?"

Piano No. 1's material dilemma.

I wasn't oblivious to gossip usually, but this time? Buried in prep for the next show and piano-building, near-hermit mode. So I missed it.

The calm before the storm. Letters from houses and temples about to flood us.

Did you know? This world has phones—sort of. Not electric like modern Earth, though.

Instead of phones, palm-sized orbs. High-end artifacts called communication orbs. Voice, video, even messaging.

Monica's voice echoed from the orb nonstop.

"It's your first vacation in ages. Take it easy."

She was at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠family villa with relatives. Capital nobles vacation often—great city, but crowded, far from nature.

Her lament? Simple.

Piano progress.

"Yeah, carillon tweaks gave us the know-how."

Starting from scratch would've dragged, even with blueprints in my head. But Dale and I had modded a carillon piano-adjacent already. So, new build at similar speed.

I almost spilled it was first-play today, but held back. She'd curse me in envy.

"Piano ain't going anywhere. Play it soon as you're back."

"No need to—"

Click. She'd called just to lock that in. I chuckled, stood.

Would've let her anytime anyway.

Pocketed the orb, turned.

"Dale, ready?"

"Yes, young master! Anytime!"

I nodded, sat at the piano. Still mid-build, skeletal, but frame solid. Playable.

But no random tune. I glanced up.

No sudden lights again, right?

Violin debut's shock lingered. Light from the heavens? Terrifying. Unlikely twice, but new instrument...

Pondered, then idea: my own composition.

Not that mine sucked—compared to masters, flaws inevitable. Overthinking? Maybe. But no more heart-pounding surprises. Wedding attention was plenty.

"Alright."

Chose the piece, hands on keys.

The Stranger. First song I composed abroad, channeling homesick loneliness from Korea.

Here, raised local, it hit deepest. Secret hums, plays. Adapted well, but past-life flashes screamed outsider.

"Hoo..."

Deep breath. Keys descended slowly.

Just as the melody began—

Fwoosh!Craaaackle!

Flames and lightning erupted in the air, clashing wildly.