The Violinist's Return
The world rolls on like a stone, mocking the villain organization: how can they be villains when they announce the exact time and date of their operations? How can they be villains when they show up as scheduled? Yet some villains—particularly the famous, named ones—actually admire the organization’s conduct. They find it admirable how Evils stubbornly clings to its own peculiar aesthetic.
That’s why, to heroes, the villain organization was excellent prey. With both citizens and villains watching, it was the perfect stage to promote oneself while ensuring that even the unskilled could finish the fight without getting seriously hurt.
“Yeeeee-!” “Hail Evils!”
“That’s far enough!”
Once again, heroes appeared right on schedule to stop the villain organization’s operation. Lately, Evils had even begun announcing which executive would be leading the sortie, so on days when Galrm wasn’t present, fresh-faced rookie heroes would show up hoping to gain experience.
“Uh, I mean, so—Hero S-Swing Tornado……”
“Take it slow, miss. We’re not going to eat you.”
“Hahaha! Look at her shaking—she’s definitely a newbie.”
“Should we go easy on her?”
“……Hmph! Swing Tornado, charging in!”
The rookie hero, unable to endure the grunts’ taunts, charged forward. Only ten months out of hero academy, she had debuted as a prodigy and was confident she could sweep aside ordinary foot soldiers without breaking a sweat.
At least, she had been confident.
Thud.
“Huh—?”
“Sorry, miss. We’d like to go easy, but this is our job…… You understand, right?”
Swing Tornado’s punch was blocked by a mere grunt. The next moment, she was pummeled by a storm of fists and kicks. The surprisingly powerful blows from ordinary soldiers forced her to curl up and drop to her knees.
When she crumpled, the grunts swinging their limbs hesitated. Even villains found it difficult to keep striking a terrified woman, hero or not.
After exchanging glances, the soldiers nodded, lifted Swing Tornado, and tossed her far into the distance.
“Bwahahaha! You’re pretty weak for a hero!”
“You’re no match for us yet! Come back when you’re stronger!”
Having flung the rookie aside, the grunts immediately clashed with the other heroes who had rushed in. Though the fight was fierce, the heroes gradually began subduing the soldiers one by one.
Once all the grunts were dealt with, Swing Tornado watched the elite suited combatants fight her fellow heroes and realized something.
‘Ah……’
The talent needed to earn good grades and the talent needed to be a hero were different.
She understood that now.
The next day, wreaths and gifts poured into the villain organization. Eight, walking down the hallway, tilted his head at the sight of members munching on what looked like potato cakes.
“What’s that?”
“Mmph—! P-Professor! H-Hail Evils!”
“Calm down. You’ll choke.”
“S-Sorry……!”
“So? What are you eating?”
The member, trembling as though caught by a division commander, quickly swallowed the snack before answering.
“S-Snacks!”
“……What kind of snacks?”
“Ah, these are from the hero we beat up the other day.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean—”
“It’s a long story…… Ah, you’ll understand if you read this.”
The member carefully retrieved a letter from among the gifts and handed it to Eight. Eight opened the envelope and scanned its contents.
The letter was absurd. It thanked them for helping her realize she had no talent as a hero and stated that she would retire and return to her family to do what she had originally planned.
It read more like a grateful citizen writing to the hero who had saved her than anything a hero would send.
“Huh……”
“We were baffled too. We asked if it was okay to accept, and Lord Galrm said not to worry and just eat them……”
“It’s fine. I’m not going to scold anyone for receiving gifts from a hero.”
Eight simply found it ridiculous that someone would abandon hero work after taking only a few hits. However, when he saw the invitation enclosed with the letter, he understood why the sender had given up so easily.
The Return First Solo Concert of Genius Violinist Milka Pocato
“Ah……”
So that was the reason. Eight let out a dry laugh and examined the invitation. A concert, huh.
“Can I take this?”
“Huh? Y-Yes! Of course! It would be an honor!”
“No need to call it an honor…… Anyway, thanks.”
He had become quite interested in this world’s music. What would it sound like? He was genuinely curious how much the existence of espers had influenced music.
* * *
A City. Art Center.
Arriving at the venue listed on the invitation, I felt the stiflingly quiet atmosphere and smiled wryly. I was also relieved I hadn’t brought anyone except Vira.
If I had invited Aile or Levitan to a place like this, what would have happened? Aile would have been so overwhelmed she might have suffered a heart attack, while Levitan, unable to endure the silence, would have started chattering loudly and ruined the mood entirely.
Coming with Vira, the only one who could be called relatively normal, had been the right choice.
“……What are you staring at?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking the dress suits you.”
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you? I know it doesn’t suit me at all.”
Vira said this while lightly clutching the hem of her dress. Thick veins stood out prominently on the back of her hand.
She was right—her body wasn’t made for dresses. Even as a woman, her well-trained forearms and thick legs gave off an unmistakably athletic impression. A flowing, feminine dress looked oddly out of place on her.
Yet the way she felt embarrassed in the ill-fitting outfit was rather cute, so I simply smiled and let it pass.
“What does it matter? It’s cute.”
“Cute? Who on earth……”
“You, Vira.”
“You really are a terrible person.”
“Me?”
Feigning innocence, I strolled through A City with her. The invited performance hadn’t started yet, so we needed something to pass the time.
Fortunately, the Art Center offered plenty to see beyond just the concert. True to its name, it housed music, fine art, sculpture, theater, photography, and bizarre installations whose purpose was anyone’s guess.
Laughing and chatting as though on a date, Eight wandered the Art Center until he realized it was time and headed for the concert hall.
“—To think Lady Pocato, who we thought had retired, is returning…… My heart is already racing.”
“It’s her first performance in a year. I wonder if her skills have dulled……”
“Nonsense. Do you know what family the Pocatos are? Even if she’d been gone ten years instead of one, her skill wouldn’t have declined.”
The entrance was already packed with spectators who seemed highly expectant. From their excitement, Eight could roughly gauge how exceptional the violinist Milka Pocato must be.
Guiding the ever-vigilant Vira inside, Eight handed the invitation to the staff checking tickets. The employee’s eyes widened in surprise before calling over a colleague to escort them to the VIP seats.
“You may sit here.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
It was right at the front of the hall—close enough that one could almost converse with the performer on stage.
The seats had even been specially positioned with no other chairs nearby, drawing envious glances from the surrounding audience.
‘……Maybe I shouldn’t have come.’
Just as the thought crossed his mind, people began filling the hall. When the performance time arrived, the lights dimmed swiftly, leaving only the stage brightly illuminated.
The performer who appeared under the spotlight met Eight’s eyes, offered a gentle smile, and began to play.
Though she started without a word, her overwhelming technique instantly captured every spectator’s attention. Even to Eight, who knew nothing about this world’s music, the melody was beautiful.
‘They called her a genius……’
Indeed, anyone possessing such skill at her young age deserved the title. The performance continued. For an hour and a half, she dominated the hall with her prodigious talent.
When the concert ended, Vira—who had sat quietly through the entire performance—breathed heavily, sweat trickling down her face, while Milka Pocato carefully spoke.
“—Thank you all for attending my performance today.”
Thunderous applause filled the hall, praising the magnificent performance. The moment the clapping ceased, she continued.
“In truth, until recently, I had been considering retirement.”
—What!
Shocked voices erupted from the audience. Milka paid them no mind and went on.
“There is someone who changed my mind. ……They are sitting right here in front. These are the benefactors who stopped me from going astray.”
Cheers and applause surged toward them. Feeling awkward to receive such thunderous praise after essentially gatecrashing with a stolen invitation, Eight quietly lowered his head.
Then, as if her mischievous side had burst forth, Milka carefully asked him a question.
“Professor. How was today’s performance?”
“……The performance?”
A staff member immediately rushed over and handed him a microphone. Accepting it, Eight recalled the music he had just heard.
It was a performance worthy of being called genius. Beautiful melodies that stirred emotions and lingered in the mind, replaying themselves over and over.
It had been an exceptionally beautiful performance.
“It wasn’t particularly special.”
However, for music created in a world with espers, it had been far too ordinary. That was all. The moment he finished speaking, gasps of shock echoed throughout the hall.