Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Serika -[1]
A massive black beast. That was the thought that hit me as I stared at the piano planted squarely in the middle of the narrow workshop.
It had been great building it. Great playing it. But now that it was time to take it home...
'This thing... how the hell am I supposed to move it?'
Iron frame, soundboard, and that thick solid wood case to boot. This was a weight that would have three or four grown men grunting and straining.
The problem was, I—Aiman—had neither the muscle nor the manpower.
A forklift? A moving company? No such things existed in this fantasy world. Something this heavy probably needed a mage or an Aura user to shift it...
"Haa..."
As I let out a sigh deep enough to cave in the ground, Haruna—who'd been wiping grease from her hands nearby—quirked up one eyebrow.
"Aiman. Don't tell me."
Her eyes mixed contempt and disbelief in a 7:3 ratio.
"You're stressing over how to move this thing?"
"Uh... yeah, pretty much."
I scratched the back of my head sheepishly.
"So, let me get this straight."
Haruna snorted in disbelief.
"You drew up those killer blueprints... but didn't give a single thought to how you'd get it home, and just asked me to build it?"
"...Can't argue with that. Yeah."
It was true. Shipping had completely slipped my mind. Back in my previous life, you just paid, and pros delivered it right to your room.
"What a bonehead..."
Haruna clucked her tongue in pity. Getting called dumb by a dwarf—humanity's shame.
"Hm... artists don't sweat the small stuff, right? And I'm no good with heavy lifting anyway. Can't you just handle moving it for me?"
Haruna looked up at me with utter exasperation. Eyes etched with scorn scanned me head to toe.
A brief silence fell. Then she nodded curtly, as if resigned.
"Fine."
"Huh?"
"On second thought, if you scratched it trying to move it yourself, it'd break my heart. Step aside."
Haruna tossed off her gloves and approached the piano. She placed her small hand against its base.
"Sure, I lack the creativity to make weapons."
Whumm—
The air in the workshop vibrated faintly.
"But I know basic household spells."
Float.
Incredibly, the massive piano lifted into the air. Light as a feather, mocking gravity itself.
'...?'
I blinked in confusion. Did Haruna have that kind of power? Or rather, did other dwarves?
"Lead the way."
Haruna jerked her chin toward the door. I stood there gaping before nodding frantically.
Fantasy world as expected. Artisans rule supreme.
We walked the night streets. Me in front, the floating piano bobbing behind, and Haruna trailing like she was walking a pet.
Drunks passing by rubbed their eyes, thinking they were seeing ghosts—a sight to behold.
"Here."
A rundown two-story house on the capital's outskirts. My rental, bought with 15 years of savings.
Haruna deftly maneuvered the piano through the second-floor window. A soft landing, not a thud.
With the piano in place, the cramped room felt stuffed.
"So this... is where you live?"
Haruna glanced around briefly. Embarrassing. The shabby furniture, the peeling wallpaper.
'...'
But that embarrassment vanished the moment I saw her eyes fixed only on the piano's spot—the room's humidity, temperature, all environmental factors.
"Good. I'll remember this place."
"Why? Planning to drop by again?"
Haruna widened her eyes as if it were obvious.
"Of course. My baby's here."
"... "
"If you neglect maintenance and the tone dulls or the wood warps, I'll come barging in. Be ready. Later."
Haruna waved coolly and vanished out the window. Like she owned the place.
I shook my head at her retreating figure.
"What a... weird dwarf."
'My baby.' Anyone overhearing would think she was the mom. Wood grains plus maternal instinct for trees now.
With Haruna gone, just me and the piano remained.
Quiet, but not lonely. Moonlight danced on the glossy black finish, glowing softly.
"Haa..."
Just looking at it filled me up. I itched to flip open the lid and play something light.
But it was midnight. In a cheap rental with no soundproofing spells, one note and I'd be out on the street.
Instead, there was work to do. Memories. I had to pin down my past life's masterpieces before 15 years blurred them away.
I rummaged the drawer for dusty parchment stacks and a quill. Popping the ink bottle made my nose sting.
"Let's get started."
Scratch, scratch.
In the silence, only the quill scraping parchment echoed. I drew staff lines, filled them with notes.
Translating melodies from my head to paper was tougher than expected. Some parts weren't crystal clear.
What was that bridge again? How did the chords drop here?
[Chopin - Nocturne No. 2 (Op. 9 No. 2)]
First up: Chopin, naturally. Nighttime vibes. Brought Ria from earlier to mind.
Splendid yet somehow lonely—she'd suit this. Dreamy, gentle, yet achingly tender melody.
"Next..."
[Mozart - Turkish March]
Perfect warm-up. Bright, lively rhythm. Great for shaking off the blues.
[Debussy - Clair de Lune]
Moonlight spilling through the window inspired it. That impressionistic haze, painting with sound—handy sometime.
And finally.
[Liszt - La Campanella]
My hand paused on the title. The pinnacle of piano virtuosity.
"Wonder if I can even play this."
Even in my past life, it took real effort to master. Could I conquer Liszt after 15 years off?
"I'll get it with practice. Just keep at it."
I pressed the quill hard, inking notes. Precision didn't matter yet. Rough was fine.
I'll refine it as I play...
Lost in the flow, dawn crept in, sky turning bluish. The desk piled high with note-packed sheets.
"Fuu."
Exhausted, but my mind sharper than ever. I smiled at my ink-stained fingers, satisfied.
I'm alive. I am alive.
I faceplanted onto the desk. Even the hard wood felt cozy that night.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Mm..."
Harsh sunlight stabbed my eyelids. I hauled my groggy body up. Pungent mix of parchment and ink hung thick.
"Oh, right. Weekend today."
I sighed at the wall calendar. The kid was coming. My little sister, that is.
Serika. Orphanage days, always trailing me with snotty nose. But now? Totally different.
[Top Scorer, Imperial Academy Entrance]
[Youngest 4th Circle Mage]
[Next Magic Tower Lord Candidate]
Her titles dazzled. Commoner who crushed noble pride with raw magical talent—a genius.
Thrilled to see her thrive, but anxious too. In her bright future... where did I fit?
Academy nobles might target me as her weakness.
'Don't want to hold Serika back...'
So I'd kept contact sparse, kept distance. Just wanted to live quietly, mind my business.
But Serika? She stuck like glue, the more I pushed. Like she didn't care.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Steady knocks. Here we go. I took a deep breath. No matter the inferiority complex—family's family.
Long time no see. Smile. Gotta smile.
Creeeak.
The door opened—and my view went dark.
"Onii-chan!!"
Impact like a cannonball. Something soft and warm coiled around my neck, burrowing into my chest.
I staggered back a few steps. Serika. She'd launched herself at me the second the door cracked.
"Guhk... w-wait..."
I choked, prying at her. She wouldn't budge.
What strength for a mage? Reinforcement spell maybe?
Her arms clamped my neck like steel.
"Haa..."
Serika buried her face in my chest, inhaling deeply. Like a drug-sniffing dog.
"Onii-chan smell. It's life. Finally recharging..."
"... "
Dangerous. Symptoms worsening.
"Haa... Serika. Good to see you too after so long."
I gripped her shoulders, peeling her back—just 1cm.
"But... isn't this a bit much now? You're a grown lady, academy top scorer and all."
Serika looked up. Silver bob swaying. Huge emerald eyes gazed at me.
Innocent as ever. She tilted her head.
"What're you talking about, onii-chan?"
"... "
"When you reunite with family after ages, you hug deep for at least five minutes. Empire 'common sense,' right?"
Something she'd drilled into me at the orphanage. Started skeptical, but repetition made it seem legit.
"Sure, but we're both grown now, Serika..."
Her eyes drooped suddenly. On the verge of tears.
"We've done this since orphanage days. It comforts me most..."
Her hand clutched my shirt tight.
"Don't tell me... you hate me now?"
That puppy-dog guilt trip. Unbeatable.
"Haa... fine, fine. Come in first. Door's wide open—what're you doing?"
I surrendered. Serika's face lit up instantly.
She dove back in, beaming mushily. I shuffled awkwardly, hugging her, to close the door. That's when—
"Huh?"
Serika's gaze, nestled in my arms, locked on one spot. Filling the tiny room with huge presence.
The black piano.
"What's... that?"
Her emerald eyes narrowed on it. Curiosity laced with subtle wariness.