Epilogue: The Fairy Tale
Swish—.
The soft sound, like turning the first page of a very old picture book fairy tale, cut through the silence.
Soon, a low and gentle voice began to emerge from the old woman's lips.
"There was once an ordinary man who couldn't even sense mana."
The children listening to the story focused intently, their eyes sparkling.
"In an era where magic ruled the world, and mana was power and life itself. While everyone in the empire revered the mystery and might of magic, he simply tapped wooden keys and steel strings with his fingertips. People called him a powerless outsider."
A gentle melody, as if someone were playing the piano, began to spread through the space.
A naturally laid-back background tune that lulled the children to sleep; they blinked their eyes.
"But he possessed the world's most beautiful-sounding 'magic box.' And one day, the miraculous song that flowed from that box... perfectly healed a world laid low by an illness that neither swords nor magic could ever cure."
The old woman turned the page and continued the tale.
Several years had already passed since that day.
It was more than enough time for both the citizens who had known nothing of the mana curse and the select few who had to forget everything.
Under a spotlessly clear blue sky, in the central square of the prospering imperial capital.
At its heart stood a massive statue honoring the great hero.
Not a knight wielding a sword, nor a mage with a staff, but a grand marble statue shaped like an enormous piano.
The top floor of the Imperial Magic Tower, Truth Conference Room.
"Therefore, the proposal to rearrange the mana nodes in Sector 3 is rejected. We can't waste the Magic Tower's budget on a trash formula that's 15% less efficient. Recalculate it."
Dozens of venerable elder mages gulped and wiped their sweat.
Seated at the head, directing the meeting with cold, piercing eyes, was Serika—the unprecedented youngest Magic Tower Lord in imperial history.
Every time the hem of her red robe fluttered, the elders glanced nervously and bowed their heads.
"Then, this meeting is ad—"
That was when it happened. Serika's gaze shifted to the grandfather clock on the conference room wall. 5:30 p.m.
"Gasp!"
The ice-cold youngest Tower Lord's face drained of color in an instant. "Adjourned! Meeting over! The rest tomorrow!"
"Pardon? B-but, Tower Lord! We still have the Seventh Barrier repair agenda..."
"Emergency! Out of my way!"
Ignoring the elders' calls, Serika reached into the air.
A high-level spatial magic said to be possible only for academy deans... unfurled beneath her feet in just five seconds.
Flash—!
Where Serika arrived was neither the Magic Tower's secret lab nor the imperial palace's conference room.
It was a place filled with the nutty aroma of butter browning and a cozy warmth.
Iman's mansion kitchen.
"Oppa!!"
"...Didn't you say you had a meeting today?"
"Yeah! I did!"
Serika quickly scanned her surroundings. Fortunately, no one was in sight.
"Rozina that bitch didn't come early, right?"
"Even after all these years, you're still on guard?"
"...This is a matter of pride."
"Then why don't you guard against Haruna?"
"...Haruna's got big boobs."
Iman stared at Serika in disbelief, and she averted her eyes slightly with a fake cough.
"Got it? Oppa? I'm the legal wife."
"... ."
At the same time, in the continent's largest upscale commercial district in the capital.
A lavish signboard adorned with gold leaf read as follows.
[Iman & Haruna Piano Workshop]
Before it, high-ranking nobles of the empire clutched numbered tickets, standing in an endless line.
"Let me see Artisan Haruna! I'll pay any amount in gold!"
"The count's family reserved first a year ago!"
As the workshop staff sweated to calm the nobles, Haruna—the continent's greatest artisan—slipped out the back door.
'It's about that time now...'
By now, Serika had surely reached Iman's room.
Serika might have declared herself the legal wife, but Haruna had no intention of yielding.
She pulled out her hidden secret weapon: the maid outfit.
The head office of the Velua-Hans Merchant Alliance, now the empire's largest trading company.
"That fucking bastard Iman..."
From the hand of Guildmaster Hans, draped in the finest silks and glittering jewels, a custom solid-gold fountain pen snapped in two, splattering ink.
Hans had become the empire's richest tycoon, amassing immense wealth and fame.
His talents were exceptional, enough to catch the imperial court's eye.
And as his success grew proportionally, so did his busyness.
"It's all because of that son of a bitch... Ah, fucking hell, this is exhausting."
"Please hold it together a bit, Hans."
"Haa... Understood. Sorry. I got too worked up."
Bersha occasionally met with Hans, though they weren't married yet.
Those around them treated it as a done deal.
"Um... Hans."
"Yes, speak."
Bersha blushed faintly and approached him.
She climbed onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hans froze.
"I'm dangerous today, Hans."
"...!"
Bersha whispered, and Hans flinched. He averted his eyes and said,
"...We can ask Iman to be our officiant. Have him play the piano."
"Yeah... That should work."
I slowly opened my eyes.
"Haa..."
I'd passed out again without realizing. It was a miracle I hadn't died from exhaustion.
I got up from the bed and headed to the living room. There was the piano.
Glancing back as I moved, Haruna, Serika, and Rozina were all sprawled out on the bed in disarray.
'How the hell did it end up like this?'
Quite some time had passed, but I still couldn't get used to it.
Fine. Whatever. Let's just play the piano peacefully.
I sat at the bench and gently lifted the key cover. The black and white keys gleamed.
This piano was just a piano.
A pure, perfect instrument containing only finely carved wood and taut steel strings.
Warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, bathing my ten fingers and the keys in beautiful golden light.
I took a deep breath and softly let my hands fall onto the keys.
A lively yet endlessly gentle and serene melody.
A simple, lovely lullaby praising the rest of a late afternoon, perhaps.
The piano's sound rode warm air currents from the living room, drifting softly out the open window.
That was when it happened. From outside came a clear, transparent chirp like a bell.
Chirp chirp—.
With the flutter of tiny wings, a dazzlingly sparkling silver bird flew in through the open window.
The little bird, scattering silver dust in the sunlight, circled the living room once before lightly landing on the piano's windowsill.
The silver bird tilted its head at me, then gently closed its eyes and began bobbing its small head to the rhythm of my playing.
I recalled the goddess's promise to visit occasionally. Was this her?
Or just a cute bird enjoying the music?
Either way, it didn't matter. What mattered was savoring this moment.
And so, the tale of that humble, ordinary hero came to an end.
"Thus, the pianist who saved the world lived, as always, surrounded by his loved ones and everyday annoyances..."
The piano melody still flowed, and the children's eyes were drooping as they listened to the old woman.
"...playing the most ordinary and greatest song that never stops, even today."
Thud.
The sound of the old picture book fairy tale's final page closing. The last child awake asked a question.
"Um... Sister? So, what happened to that hero in the end?"
"The end? What end?"
"Like, with the other connections..."
"Nothing special. He might still be alive even now. Rumor has it the goddess granted him eternal life."
Saying that, the old woman smirked slightly and patted her own cheek. Her face began to subtly change.
The child stared blankly.
"Eh...?"
"Who knows? Maybe I'm the goddess from that story?"
The child just blinked.
"Maybe even today, that hero is spending happy times with his wives."
The End.