It's Harmony, Not Magic
In the deathly quiet of the forge, I drew in a deep breath. The solid weight of the guitar resting on my lap pressed reassuringly into my thighs.
This wasn't about this world's crude metal clanging—it was time to show him the real music I knew. With my left hand, I pressed down on the frets. The cool ebony sent a pleasant tingle through my fingertips.
"Here goes."
And with my right hand, I strummed all six strings at once.
Zwaaaang—!
It cleaved through the forge's thick air in a single massive reverberation. The six strings vibrated at their distinct pitches, weaving together into one perfect chord. C Major. I'd played this basic chord a million times back home, but I never imagined it could feel so alive. The sound rippling through the air was like a wave jolting forgotten senses back to life.
Garvan's eyes went rigid as stones. His round pupils trembled violently. He forgot to breathe, staring blankly into space as if trying to seize the fading echoes of the chord dispersing in the air.
Even after the sound's lingering tail completely vanished, Garvan didn't budge. His utter silence had me gulping nervously as I ventured to speak.
"Uh… so, what do you think?"
At my question, Garvan finally snapped out of it, his lips quivering. He glanced at his palms, then the guitar, then fixed me with a piercing stare.
"…What kind of magic is this? No elemental mana… nothing even close, but why does the air trembling feel so damn good?"
His voice dripped with awe. Relief washed over me, and I managed a faint smile.
"This is the true music I was talking about. Not sounds running wild, but ones helping each other by set rules."
Emboldened, I moved my fingers again. This time, instead of strumming all at once, I went for arpeggios, plucking the strings one by one in sequence.
Ting, tingriiiing— The thin Mana Bind strings handling the high notes rang out with crystalline clarity, striking the ceiling. Then the thick low strings that Garvan had fused himself thrummed deeply, amplified within the body before flowing across the floor. As the echoes bounced off the walls and layered upon each other, the forge seemed engulfed in an illusion of massive waves surging through it.
The dwarf artisan, who'd lived centuries and witnessed every rare tool and spell imaginable, couldn't define what he was hearing right now. But his soul had the instinctive answer.
Beautiful.
That single word dominated his mind.
The silence that returned after the performance ended was far more oppressive and heavy than before. Garvan stayed quiet for a long stretch. With his rough, callused fingers, he gently caressed the guitar's body—the one he'd carved and shaped himself—like it was a fragile gem.
"Kid… no, Cecilia. So this is the order in sound you were going on about? Everything I knew as music was just noisy crap."
His voice blended the sharp self-reproach of a craftsman with the thrill of discovering a new world. His eyes flashed as he looked at me.
"Hey, this is a product. Not just any product either. Material costs? My labor? Screw that. We gotta spread this sound. This'll make bank!"
"Huh? What're you—"
"Partnership! I handle production, you play. Gotta recoup costs, right? Lucky for us, I know this nutty noble drowning in cash who’s always chasing new thrills. She'd sell her soul for this sound. Hell, she might buy out the whole damn workshop!"
I backed away from his excited pitch.
"No way, I hate hassle. I just wanna strum it quietly at home alone…"
Honestly, did I even need to bother with nobles? I'd learned a sound barrier spell, the guitar was done—why not hole up at home, play for myself, and live peacefully? If it got too stuffy, I could pop into the plaza for a quick tune and bolt.
But blocking those thoughts was the landscape of this hellish, noise-filled world. Those horrific screeches I'd heard. I wanted to spread music here. I wanted everyone to know it. The vows I'd made when I first arrived and endured that awful cacophony resurfaced, steeling my resolve once more. To change the world, I had to take the easy path.
If the upper crust buys into it as a trend, the rest will follow.
Culture always trickles down from the top, after all. I let out a deep sigh and met Garvan's blazing gaze.
"…Fine. I'll meet that noble."
My agreement barely landed before Garvan burst into booming laughter. He yanked out a ledger and started scribbling with his quill.
"Good, it's settled. I'll talk to that weirdo first. I'll set the meeting and let you know—come back here in three days."
Three days. Tighter than expected, but Garvan's eyes were already in full business mode. He carefully pried the guitar from my hands and placed it on the safest-looking display shelf in the back.
"And I'll keep this instrument. If you drop it on the way home and smash it on the street, who's covering my materials? Safest here."
His words gave me pause. A nagging suspicion wormed into my head. What if this old guy pawns it off to the noble as his creation while I'm gone? I'd seen plenty of song thieves in my past life—distrust came naturally.
"Um, Garvan? You won't… like, introduce it as something you made solo, right?"
My question made his eyebrow twitch. He let out a disbelieving scoff and readjusted his grip on the hammer.
"Brat, you think my name doesn't carry weight in the empire? I don't pull petty scams like that. This sound doesn't happen without you anyway. I'm not dumb enough to stake my rep on a scam that's gonna blow up in my face."
…Isn't it six letters with the surname?
The fleeting doubt passed as I cringed inwardly. I'd just insulted a dwarf whose artisan pride pierced the heavens.
"…Sorry. I'm a bit paranoid."
"Nah, forget it. That mindset's way better for this business. We're practically strangers today, right? In a world full of con artists, you're a hundred times smarter than some gullible fool."
Garvan brushed it off like it was nothing, waving me away.
"Anyway, head home. Don't be late in three days."
I bid Garvan farewell and stepped out of the forge. Without the guitar's weight, my body felt lighter, but there was also this odd emptiness, like I'd left my baby behind, tickling at my toes.
.
.
.
After Cecilia slipped out the forge door and vanished completely.
Garvan was left alone in the empty workshop. He stared intently at the guitar on the display for a long while, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then sneakily picked it up.
"Hold it like this… and strum right here, yeah?"
Garvan clumsily mimicked Cecilia's posture and plopped into a chair. His thick fingers settled on the strings. Confidently, he scraped across them.
Keng—! Tik, tiiiik—
What echoed through the forge wasn't that sacred chord from before. Just the hideous screech of an out-of-tune scrap heap screaming.
"…What the hell? Why isn't it working?"
He tried a few more times, but his sausage fingers kept hitting the wrong strings, and the sounds only got worse. Not even a single clean note, let alone a chord.
"Damn, I figured it was tricky, but this is on another level."
Garvan clicked his tongue and carefully set the guitar back. Looked like he'd have to ask the kid for playing lessons later.
He returned to his usual workbench. To tackle the backlog of commissions, he hefted his heavy hammer and brought it down on the glowing iron plate.
Kang—!
The hefty strike rang out through the forge. But as he swung, Garvan tilted his head quizzically.
The mana flow tingling through his hands felt different from usual. No—more precisely, the mana swirling inside him reacted far too smoothly.
"Hm? Did my total mana go up…? Or maybe my proficiency improved?"
He cocked his head and rubbed his shoulder. The fatigue built up over days had vanished, and his mana felt sharper than ever.
"Probably just my imagination. Must've slept well or something."
Shrugging it off, he muttered to himself and swung the hammer again.