Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Dress Rehearsal - [1]
-Let's test it out first. Serika.
-Test?
-It's a dress rehearsal.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The central square on the weekend. It was the most densely populated spot in the imperial capital.
Or, to put it another way, a massive furnace where all sorts of noise and bustle boiled together.
Right in the middle, in front of the fountain. A bizarre space had formed where the flow of people abruptly stopped.
"What the heck is that?"
"A coffin? Is there a funeral going on?"
"Isn't it a dining table? But why's it shining like that?"
At the center of the murmurs stood a bizarre black object.
Its black glossy body sparkled dazzlingly in the sunlight.
An elegantly curving frame and a massive lid.
It was a piano.
And there I was, wiping down the keyboard cover with a dry rag beside it, wishing I could crawl into a hole in the ground.
'Damn... I wanna bolt right now.'
Of course, I had those desires too. I wanted lots of people to hear my piano playing.
And for them to be amazed by it. Those kinds of cravings.
You know, the clichés like the heroine from an orphanage listening to a recording of my song and falling asleep to it...
"Okay, everyone, listen up! If you're just passing by, lend me your ears for a bit!"
A clear, bright voice pierced through the square's clamor.
It was Serika.
"The world's first! The empire's one and only! A performance on a mysterious instrument like nothing you've ever heard or seen before—starting now!"
"Isn't that a bit too exaggerated?"
"Exaggerated? It's true, isn't it? World's first, empire's only. A performance on a mysterious instrument no one's ever seen before?"
Serika shot back confidently at my words. Sure, it was technically accurate... but it felt way over the top.
I'd only suggested a dress rehearsal, not expecting her to go all out like this!
Dozens of curious stares were weighing on me too!
"No charge! Listen first, and if you're moved, tip whatever you feel it's worth!"
Ignoring my awkward fidgeting, Serika was thrilled. Her stunning looks were having a massive effect too.
Probably more fans of her beauty than the piano itself?
'Please... don't let me run into anyone I know.'
I'd finished the dry wipe-down for now. Whew... at least I wasn't too worried.
Once I started playing, I'd be focused solely on that.
Just avoid anyone I know and get through the performance quick.
"Huh?"
Then came a dumb exclamation cutting through the crowd. It was familiar. Ominously so.
"Aiman?"
I froze. Then I looked up toward the voice.
Black curly hair, face dotted with freckles. A guy holding a skewer, staring blankly.
It was Hans. Basically my coworker from the job I used to have.
We were both on leave now after screwing up separately.
"Hey, what're you doing here?"
Hans approached, munching on his skewer. His eyes flicked between me, the piano, and back to me.
"Uh... y'know, a hobby."
"A hobby? With an instrument? Since when were you into music?"
"Eh... picked it up recently."
"Heh, right."
Hans snorted like it was ridiculous.
"Aiman. Weren't you just some numbers freak who got off on spreadsheets? Always grinning like an idiot over ledgers."
I shot him a dumbfounded look, and he stared back dead serious.
"No, seriously. The guy who holed up in the corner scribbling numbers at every company dinner—doing street performances? In broad daylight on a weekend?"
I could feel Serika staring at me in shock. Mortifying.
"Well, that's life for ya. Gotta have some rebellion now and then."
Hans's eyes narrowed at my words. His gaze sharpened, then shifted to Serika.
"Anyway."
His tone shifted subtly. A mix of envy, jealousy, and curiosity.
"Who's this beautiful lady...?"
Hans knew I was an orphanage kid with one little sister.
"I told you before, right? My little sis—"
"Nope, not sis."
Before I could finish, Serika cut in sharply.
"We're lovers, him and Aiman."
Mine and Hans's eyes nearly bugged out.
"L-Lovers? You mean that guy's not dating his spreadsheets? I thought he got excited over numbers!"
What the hell was this punk saying? What pissed me off more was how genuinely shocked he seemed—he almost dropped his skewer!
"You... you traitor."
Hans pointed at me, trembling with betrayal. No need to care what this dimwit thought.
I was flustered by Serika's move... but she was calm as ever.
She tiptoed up, lips to my ear. Her hot breath tickled.
"Oppa, stay still."
She whispered so softly.
"Artists always sell better with a muse or tragic romance. Better than a lone instrument—people get immersed in the story of a genius musician and his lovely lover."
True enough. And factual.
"Might as well rake in big tips. Trust me and play along."
Serika whispered that, then flashed a radiant smile at the crowd.
A poor musician playing for his beloved. Nice picture. Definitely double the tips over a plain performance.
'Broke as hell though...'
I'd sunk my whole fortune into the piano—cash was essential! Even reincarnated in a fantasy world, I was still a slave to capitalism.
Fine. If we're doing this, own it. I nodded at Hans.
"Yeah, that's how it is."
Hans gaped. He looked at me with half awe, half respect—then betrayal again.
"How's a plain-looking guy like you...?"
Spot on. Fine, overlook it—hype me up while you're at it.
"Learned an instrument to reel her in. This thing. They call it a piano."
Hans eyed the piano, me, then Serika, incredulous again.
"Nah... no way. Hypnosis or something?"
Getting annoying now? He couldn't even fathom me landing a girl.
Anyway, Hans plopped down front and center. Spectators formed a semicircle around him.
Whatever. Time to play. Rack up those tips.
"Hoo."
I took a deep breath. Sat on the piano bench, adjusted the height. The hard seat grounded me in reality.
'Alright, let's show 'em.'
Stage was set. Might as well crush it and haul in tips. Prep for old age early.
I raised my hands to the keys, warming up my fingers. Swept my gaze over the crowd.
Eyes full of anticipation. Curious faces. Hans, arms crossed, smirking like 'let's see whatcha got.' Serika cheering beside me.
And a chill down my spine.
'...?'
Goosebumps. Neck hairs standing up suddenly?
I instinctively turned toward the ominous vibe.
In the crowd's edge. Under the shaded streetlamp. Someone stood there.
"... "
Petite build. Messy hair peeking from under a pulled-low hat. Hollow eyes with dark circles down to the chin.
Haruna.
She wasn't looking at me. Her eyes flicked between my fingertips and the piano.
Her lips chewed hard. Muttering something?
Remembered what that tree-hugging, maternal-tree-obsessed nutjob said. Our promise flashed back.
I hadn't called her for 'Salut d'Amour' with Serika. Did she know and come? Or coincidence?
Either way, her stare was unhinged. Like a wife catching her cheating husband red-handed.
That soap-opera glare—in real life...
'Fucking terrifying.'
Not normal. Suddenly thought of the Northern Duke. Y'know, those yandere tropes.
That gaze screamed for such a title.
'No clue.'
Focus on the performance now. What to play... options swirled, but this felt right.
'Beethoven's Moonlight.'
In this chaotic mess, hit back with something just as turbulent.
'Better.'
Hands on keys. My jumbled mind cleared like magic.
"Hoo..."
Deep breath. And I began to play.