Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Academy Festival (16)
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The piece I named "Aria Fantasia" is a song that Ennio Morricone, now deceased, composed for a film.
To truly bring out its calm, lyrical atmosphere, you actually need many instruments.
From strings like the violin, viola, and cello, to the piano and harp.
It would be even better with a flute or a contrabass.
But.
That's impossible right now.
No matter how much knowledge I have, creating a new instrument isn't something that happens overnight.
Even if I remember the sound, that small merit is hardly any help.
I'd also need someone to play it.
Which doubles the difficulty.
Who would teach them in the first place?
I've never handled any instrument other than the piano.
So, at this moment, only two things are prepared.
Only the piano and a voice.
And yet, why do I feel it's enough?
As Franz Liszt said, the piano is an orchestra unto itself.
I'll unravel the rhythm and provide the background, and Aria's voice will paint a picture on top of it.
What more could we possibly add?
This combination might be the purest form of music we can feel.
Without any greed to fill the space, it moves the heart and immerses the listener with just the given sounds and the air.
Less is more.
Less is more.
A sentence that succinctly symbolizes minimalism, but Saint-Exupéry said something similar.
Perfection is not a state where there is nothing more to add, but a state where there is nothing left to take away.
It means stripping away the elements to get closer to the essence.
So, in a way, it's only natural that I am moved by the harmony the two of us are creating right now.
Anyway.
I calmly built up the chords, following Aria's voice.
The lyrics were simple.
A content about dreaming of a peaceful, ideal world in a fantasy.
Wasn't the film based on the true story of priests trying to build faith and community among indigenous people?
But.
I made quite a few changes to this part.
I couldn't remember a thing.
The original lyrics were all in Italian, and even if I read the translations in my past life, there's no way I could remember all of them.
So, aside from the first four lines, I filled the rest with completely different content.
If anything, that might be a stroke of luck.
I just heard the news that the Emperor had conquered Ivelon.
It almost would have created a strange image.
There is nothing more insane than saying, "Let's live peacefully now," to someone who has returned victorious from a battle.
Thanks to changing the lyrics, that kind of story was completely removed.
The title is "Aria Fantasia," after all.
Of course, I changed it arbitrarily.
This is closer to an autobiographical content imagining what kind of adult she will become in the future.
She wants to sing freely, unbound by anyone.
That kind of feeling.
Anyway, it was quite a ordeal.
Especially the process of translating the language to fit this world was difficult.
The most prominently used and important vocal technique in this piece is portamento.
You can think of it as continuing overall.
It starts with portamento and ends with portamento.
That was the problem.
For this technique to work more smoothly, every note, meaning every word, must have the same vowel.
Otherwise, its charm is halved.
Aria Fantasia must sound like an instrument, even the voice.
Like an oboe.
To replicate that texture even slightly perfectly, I wracked my brain for days writing the lyrics.
And now.
Aria was brilliantly reproducing that difficult technique.
Each note filled with emotion and color.
A voice connecting one syllable, one syllable at a time.
"What kind of person will I become?"
"To embrace people with a gentle smile,"
"To become a star that illuminates the darkness of the world,"
"Could I shine a light on someone's path?"
It achieved a terrifyingly intricate harmony with the piano, adding depth to the piece.
The reverberation doesn't always have to linger at the end of the stage.
Every time a single sentence escaped Aria's lips, a deep aftereffect continued to spread to the end of the theater.
Soon.
The volume began to decrease.
A very delicate and careful pianissimo.
As if letting out a wistful sigh, she laid the notes to rest.
As her melody finally spread to the ceiling and vanished, a perfect silence descended upon the theater.
A fantasy created with emotions fully contained.
The moment that brilliant film ended.
What I heard in my ears was none other than the sound of sobbing.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Huk... Hic..."
"Huuu..."
It was an uncommon sight.
The theater audience was showing tears and expressing their emotions with their whole bodies.
Could there be a more moving tribute?
The flickering candlelight died out.
This wasn't intentional.
It went out naturally.
Darkness.
I did not miss this moment.
Aria's song was over, but the stage wasn't over yet.
I moved my still fingers.
The piano melody began to slowly fill the theater, which had fallen into silence.
Music is the ship that carries emotions.
The melody is the memories and dreams hidden deep within the heart.
The clear sound of the keys ringing in the silence dredged up the stories sunk at the bottom of someone's lake, one by one.
At the same time, it made the flow of time stop.
The present and the past, reality and fantasy, began to lose their boundaries and mix.
Human emotions sometimes exist at a depth that cannot be expressed in words.
Music is the only language that can traverse that place.
My hands moved as if skipping a stone on the water's surface for a long time.
How much time had passed?
Before I knew it, silence had returned to the theater.
But.
Haven't I said it?
Perfection is a state where there is nothing left to add.
I could intuitively tell.
It wasn't that the standing ovation and cheers weren't coming; it was that they weren't needed.
This was a fairy tale created by Aria.
A story of fantasy.
Nella Fantasia.
At this moment, there was no need for cumbersome words or text here.
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Leah Dresel's mouth slowly opened.
Her pupils trembled.
'...How is this possible?'
She had seen many recitals until now.
Among them, there were pieces that evoked a wistful landscape, like "Clair de Lune," which Anton Tilberg had released in his early days.
A picture would form in her head automatically, and memories of a wistful past would surface.
But.
Today, this girl, Aria's stage, was on a different dimension.
Human imagination stems from experience.
No matter what kind of moonlight Anton was thinking of when he played the piano, the audience would recall the moonlight they remembered.
For some, it would be a crescent moon.
For others, a full moon.
There would even be some who wouldn't recall the moonlight at all.
It was only natural.
Where is it only the moonlight?
Someone who has never seen an angel can only create a virtual angel by pulling out the knowledge they know.
Because you can't imagine something you've never seen or known.
Aria shattered that boundary.
She stood with the background of a temple installed behind the stage and the lighting of flickering candlelight.
With an appearance like an angel, she conducted the audience's hearts.
There was no room for imagination.
Before they could even think of anything, Aria was already right in front of them.
The manifestation of a sacred being.
Knowing it couldn't be true, Leah couldn't ignore the emotions that kept surfacing.
That small, brilliant existence was speaking about a beautiful dream.
That she wants to become a star that illuminates the darkness and shine a light on someone's path.
She was at a loss for words.
In an instant, tears burst forth.
It was as if the sky had answered her.
'Live a good life. Please, don't cause any trouble.'
'...Yes!'
Leah made a resolution that day.
What she resolved to do, and when Anton's group would find out about it, is a story for later.
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In the end, the performance concluded without any applause, without any cheers or shouts.
Aria timidly came down from the stage.
It was so dark that I had to light the way with a small candle.
"You did well."
"Uncle."
She looked up at me with an awkward expression.
Her pupils were vacant, and all the tension had drained from her facial muscles.
It was a truly corpse-like feeling.
It seemed she was shocked because the audience gave no reaction.
Actually, it looked like everyone was too busy sobbing to find the right time to stand up, but Aria wouldn't have seen that.
"Was my song not good?"
"That can't be."
"Then why..."
"Aria. I have a question for you."
She stared at me without a word.
"What do you have to do to eat a snack deliciously?"
"Snacks are just delicious."
I knew she would answer that way.
In situations like this, I have no choice but to pepper her with the same question until she gives the answer I want.
The so-called "You're-the-one-who-decides" tactic.
"Not that. There's a way to eat it really deliciously, right?"
"Hmm..."
"Remember how it was when I told you couldn't eat bread for a week because you gained weight?"
"Ohh... Back then, the bread was truly honey-sweet. As expected, when you can't eat something and then you can... Ah! That's it! It's more delicious if you endure it and then eat it!"
"That's right."
So why did I ask this question?
"Wouldn't it be more joyous if you saved up the praise and received it all at once?"
"Is that so?"
I don't know either.
I've never done it.
I'm just saying it to package this situation.
"Now, let's go out again. We have to go get the applause we didn't receive just now."
"Eh? Again?"
It's a curtain call.