The Man They Abandoned, Proving Himself Right Before Their Eyes (2)
In Noarbel, the royal capital hundreds of kilometers from Herumont where the Akwi Festival was underway, inside the Partita Guild headquarters. Deep within those opulent corridors, in the guild master's office, Maltio de Creven was reading a freshly arrived report. It had been written a full ten days earlier due to delivery delays—a belated update.
"Han Seru entered the tournament... with some unknown novice singer?"
With every sentence he read, Maltio's brow furrowed deeper.
Still thrashing about, is he?
The man who had lost the three girls he'd poured his heart into raising was showing his face in the world again. Maltio had assumed he'd vanish quietly, but the guy's stubbornness was proving tenacious.
"That guy... he's still alive?"
Lounging on the reception sofa with her legs crossed was Auroria Bacher, one of the Edelan Ten Stars, a Golden String bard. Lustrous hair gleaming like silk and a coquettish voice to match, she flashed a sticky smile.
"Those types usually end it all by suicide. How intriguing."
Maltio brushed off her words and rose to his feet. He slowly walked toward the wall of his office. There hung neat portraits of the singers under Partita's banner.
In the paintings: Lilfrea. Maribel. Clara. All three smiled radiantly.
Maltio stared at the frames, then gently stroked his chin.
Han Seru.
He had been the first to recognize the man's talent. But Seru had rejected the offer. The girls weren't disposable tools, he'd said—he couldn't accept without staying by their side. He'd turned down the massive compensation and promised fame.
So Maltio had crushed him. What else could he do?
A stubborn man indeed. Maltio had taken everything he'd built. And now, no one remained by Seru's side. Just one thing left: an unnamed rookie singer.
"No matter how skilled the chef, poor ingredients have their limits."
Lilfrea, Maribel, Clara. Those three were jewels of innate talent. Maltio had polished them and set them in the guild's crown.
What could Seru possibly do with a lump of mud he'd scraped together by chance?
"Must've been desperate. Grabbing just anyone."
No matter how good Seru's management skills, without girls of that caliber, he couldn't shine like before. Did he think promising talents like them littered the streets like pebbles?
"Heh."
A sneer laced with mockery.
"Well, he won't even make it past the preliminaries."
Maltio would enjoy watching the fallen man's final tantrum.
"Tch."
Maltio shook his head, erasing Seru from his mind. A few minutes of pointless worry. A waste of time.
Losers fade away. That was the law of this world.
Pathetic, flailing around with some no-name singer he'd picked up off the street after losing everything.
"Time for some cool ice cream."
Maltio shrugged cheerfully, tossed the report into a drawer, and cut off his interest. He sent no reply to his dispatched guild members in Herumont on how to respond.
No point wasting effort on a handful of nobodies who'd self-destruct in their tantrum.
Maltio sank back into his plush chair and picked up the short-range magic communicator.
"It's the guild master. Bring me one of those honeycomb ice creams."
> Yes, sir!
"Don't hog it all for yourself, you sneak."
"Ah, make it two."
Recording: L-37 stem, height 10 meters.
"Th-the stem's already 10 meters...?"
"It's too big!"
The participants couldn't hide their panic as they stared at the rapidly rising willin. Most hadn't even sprouted buds yet, making the gap all the more stark.
"No way!"
"That kid again... aiming for first?"
It wasn't just the contestants. The staff were shocked too. Even those who had designed the second preliminary round hadn't anticipated anyone growing a stem to 10 meters in just two days.
Excited voices erupted as officials gathered around the pillar.
"Who the hell is that kid?"
"It wasn't solo."
"It's that guy. He's guiding her well!"
At someone's words, all eyes turned to Seru inside the blue L-37 pillar.
Vigorously waving his baton.
"Who's that guy?"
"Some celebrity?"
"I thought he was just the girl's attendant."
"I figured half-brother or something."
"They don't even look alike."
The murmurs grew, questions piling up. But no one could pinpoint Seru's background.
A few knew, but they stood with wide eyes, speechless. The more they knew, the more conflicted they felt.
"N-no way..."
Lilfrea's stunned words were followed by Clara's dazed mutter.
"We haven't even gotten a feel for it yet... and she's already... tamed the melody...?"
Maribel snapped, shouting.
"So you're saying Seru guided her well? No way! He's just a nag! You know that, Clara!"
Her voice was too loud. Onlookers turned en masse.
The accompanying manager, Lukan, coughed awkwardly and stepped in.
"Miss Maribel, calm down first. Miss Lilfrea, Miss Clara, let's head back. Lots of eyes here..."
But Lilfrea erupted like lightning.
"What the hell is Professor Ludwig teaching? Why hire him if he's letting us fall this far behind?!"
Clara chimed in with anxious eyes.
"If we just adapt to the melody a bit more... we can do well..."
"Of course! Of course! The professor will teach step by step now..."
"Step by step? We need it now!"
Maribel's face twisted as she flared up again.
"Train hard, whatever! Tell him to give it everything right now! If we lose first place again, I'll lose my mind!"
"And check with the organizers if our willin seeds are proper stock."
"I don't wanna lose to Teacher Han... handle it yourselves, Lukan... he doesn't even have a license..."
Jealousy, anger, anxiety tangled in the girls' voices, growing heated. Even participants and staff backed away warily.
Flustered, Lukan wiped sweat with an awkward grin.
"Y-yes... got it! I'll pass it on! Let's go back!"
Meanwhile, Seru and Estel's stem grew steadily. The green willin stretched toward the sky, slow but relentless. Past 10 meters, to 11.
Yes... this is it.
I shook the baton in my hand, gazing at Estel singing before me. Her sweet eyes shimmered with the pure light only one who fully grasped the melody could possess.
This melody. This structure. This emotional arc.
All designed by me, with my discrepancy perception ability.
I couldn't sing well myself... but no one knew better how to set the mood, how to build it.
I saw the skeleton of the score. Felt the pulse of the sound. Erected the melody's frame, read the flow of notes, captured the breath between emotion and phrasing.
One beat, half a beat. Or an off-beat. Tuning those subtle gaps like a caress maximized the resonance.
And there was Estel, absorbing and embodying every demand perfectly.
Like an angel breathing life into the blueprint I'd drawn. With Estel, we became complete.
Perfect.
Certainty filled me. Just keep going like this.
The willin was growing now. Exactly as we'd planned. To the height we desired. Sturdy, beautiful, unstoppable.
Its stem surpassed 11 meters, heading for 12.
But a bit of noise crept in. Crowds swarmed from all sides to see our stem.
Estel faltered briefly under the attention, a tremor in her voice.
I spoke curtly.
"They're not here for you. For the willin stem."
Estel couldn't reply mid-song but smiled with her eyes in understanding. As she resumed smoothly, thrill coursed through me.
Yes. Everyone's watching us.
Good. Watch more.
The music I'd designed was shaking hearts this very moment.
Admiration, jealousy, rage—whatever. This was proof.
Proof I hadn't been wrong, even after losing those three girls.
And conviction that I could lead this girl, Estel, to the peak.
As the willin's stem pierced ever higher, my heart pounded fiercer.
Willin. Keep rising, straight to the end.
Until everyone cranes their necks back to gaze up at you.
Three days passed, and on the fourth...
Our willin shot up to 50 meters in one go. Overwhelming all others, like a massive spear skewering the heavens.
Before that majesty... despair settled on the three girls' faces.