Stones Rolling
After the performance ended, we accepted Milkah’s invitation and headed to her private waiting room. Sharp glares from those around us kept stabbing our way. It seemed they were still holding a grudge over what I’d said at the end of the show. The looks were filled with pure malice. Only Vira reacted to them, glancing around warily in every direction.
“─You’re here.”
A short while later, we arrived at the waiting room and were able to speak with Milkah alone after her performance. She was still wearing her stage outfit, her skin glistening with sweat. It made me think this meeting wouldn’t last long.
And sure enough, Milkah got straight to the point.
“You’re from the villain organization, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“But I don’t remember seeing any women among you…”
Milkah looked at Vira with a puzzled expression. While the combatants of the villain organization all wore full-body combat suits that covered their faces, the suits weren’t so thick that they completely hid whether someone was male or female.
At her observation, I let out an awkward laugh and revealed the truth.
“Actually, we weren’t the ones who subdued you that day. We just received the tickets secondhand.”
“Ah… I see. That’s a shame. Then what exactly do you two do?”
“We’re executives of the villain organization.”
“Executives… Excuse me? E-executives?”
Milkah swallowed hard at those words. After all, when people thought of villain organization executives, they pictured S-class villains like Galrm—monsters who could demolish entire hero buildings in one go.
The other executives were all villains with at least A-class threat levels as well. Facing villains like that, the fear she must be feeling right now had to be considerable.
“I-is it really okay for executives to show their faces like this…?”
“It’s fine. If you visit the villain organization’s homepage, the full list of executives is publicly available.”
“…What does that even mean?”
I had simply stated the facts in a calm tone, but for some reason Milkah’s tension completely melted away. She let out a long, relieved sigh.
Once she had regained her composure, Milkah looked at me cautiously and asked,
“I see. Mr. Executive. First of all, thank you for coming to watch my performance.”
“Same to you. It was a good show.”
“It was nothing particularly special, though.”
Milkah gave a bitter smile as she said that. Despite leaving such a self-deprecating review, she still looked up at me with an oddly confident expression.
However, my assessment didn’t change.
“Yes. It was good, but not particularly special.”
“…Could you elaborate a bit more?”
“You already know why I’m saying it wasn’t special, don’t you?”
Milkah Pocato’s performance had been a moving masterpiece that struck the heart. Among performers her age, very few could deliver such emotion through music alone. Even if you expanded the age range, she was undoubtedly a genius who ranked among the very best.
According to the concert pamphlet, she was a prodigy from the Pocato family—a lineage that had produced renowned musicians for generations. With the genetic talent passed down through her bloodline and the family’s secret training methods, she was clearly destined to become a world-class master.
However.
“Try doing a little more of what you actually want to do. Freely.”
“…What I want to do. I don’t have any talent for that.”
“I said freely. That doesn’t mean giving up after trying just one thing.”
Watching Milkah immediately push back, I let out a dry chuckle. This was exactly the problem with geniuses. Since they rarely experienced failure, the moment they got burned even once, they shrank back as if they’d been scorched by fire.
No matter how much of a genius someone was, it was impossible to succeed in every single field. Yet here she was, ready to give up on everything just because of one failure?
“The world is wide, and you’re still young, Miss Milkah.”
It really was such a waste. Young people abandoning their dreams just because they lacked “talent.”
“Milkah? Have you changed out of your clothes?”
“…Yes, Mother.”
“Good. Then let’s head home.”
Milkah, who had been left alone in the waiting room, climbed into her mother’s car and left the concert hall.
As she stared blankly at the scenery receding behind them, her mother—who was driving—carefully spoke up.
“You worked hard on today’s performance. Don’t pay any mind to that strange audience member’s comments at the end. You are a special child.”
“…I’m not bothered by it.”
“Of course you aren’t. Who do you think you are? Aren’t you the prodigy of the Pocato family?”
Letting her mother’s words go in one ear and out the other, Milkah fell into her own world. She kept replaying what the villain organization executive had said to her during the performance.
‘Nothing particularly special…’
Those words had pierced her to the bone. Nothing particularly special. It was something she herself agreed with far too deeply.
‘Of course. I am the heir to the Pocato family, after all.’
Long ago, a family had been founded by an artist with demonic talent. Every heir in that lineage had gone on to become a master who dominated their era. A prestigious house that produced a maestro—the dream of countless musicians—every single generation.
However, aside from the founder, not a single one of them had left a name great enough to be remembered in history.
And the same was true for Milkah.
‘Genius talent, support from a historic family, blood-soaked effort…’
When all of those things combined, what was created wasn’t the birth of a new history. It was merely an extension of the achievements the founder had already accomplished.
There was nothing new about it at all. No matter how much the world praised her as one of the greatest geniuses or a guaranteed future master, her future was painfully obvious.
‘Just another reproduction of the ancestors who have appeared again and again.’
She hated that predetermined future. That was why Milkah had run away from her family to become a hero. She had wanted to become a protagonist of a new era. She had wanted to carve out her own future with her own power.
…She had failed. She didn’t have the talent for it. She had been defeated by a mere low-level villain organization member who didn’t even possess any proper ESP.
So she had given up and returned to her family—but already her breath was growing tight.
“Oh my.”
“…?”
Milkah snapped out of her thoughts at her mother’s exclamation. Following her gaze, she saw the villain organization executive who had told her she wasn’t special standing on the street, fiddling with a musical instrument.
An electric guitar. It was a traditional acoustic guitar modified for stage use.
Even though he was supposedly a villain executive, did he know how to play the guitar too? Milkah watched him with eyes full of curiosity.
“So he can play, can he? Still, how well can someone who criticizes others possibly perform? Let’s go.”
“Just a moment.”
Milkah stopped her mother, who was about to drive away. When her mother looked at her questioningly, Milkah made up an excuse.
“Like you said, Mother. I’m curious what kind of performance someone who criticized me can give. Let’s listen for just a little while.”
“It will only dirty your ears.”
“Only then will I be able to sleep peacefully tonight, don’t you think?”
“…Fine. We’re not in any hurry. Let’s listen for a bit and then go.”
The two of them parked on the shoulder, rolled down the windows, and waited for the man’s performance. Soon, the man who had been gently tuning the borrowed guitar began to play.
The tone bounced along like a stone rolling downhill. For some reason, it made the body sway back and forth—an energetic, lively performance flowed out.
Her mother clearly didn’t like the sound. She frowned deeply and muttered,
“It’s just noisy. There’s no point listening any further.”
Wiiiing— Her mother closed the window and turned on the radio inside the car. Soon, clean and beautiful classical music filled their ears…
But inside Milkah’s heart, rolling stones continued to tumble.
Not long after leaving the concert hall, we came across some street buskers. Perhaps because it was a street full of people passionate about art, even though it was just ordinary busking, a large crowd had gathered to watch their performance.
Seeing the relaxed, smiling faces of the audience made me think that art truly did come from a place of leisure.
“─This is an original composition of mine. Please enjoy!”
The man performing on the street said that and began playing his guitar. Since he had twelve fingers on both hands combined, I had expected something truly special, but unfortunately, the extra fingers didn’t translate into anything particularly remarkable.
Having more fingers was certainly an advantage for playing, but it didn’t feel like he had practiced enough to make full use of that advantage.
“Thank you!”
When the man finished playing and bowed, I lightly clapped along with the people around us. Vira, standing beside me, tilted her head and whispered into my ear while clapping.
“…Didn’t you say you didn’t like it?”
“It’s not like we paid to see it. Should I really boo him here…?”
“Well, no, but still…”
Leaving behind Vira, who was looking at me like she’d just watched a thug pick up a stray cat, I was about to walk away when a middle-aged man suddenly approached and shouted at me, as if he had overheard our conversation.
“─I’ve been watching you for a while now. Hey, what’s with that picky attitude of yours?”
“Pardon?”
“I was at the concert earlier too! You said her performance wasn’t special, and now you’re saying this guy isn’t that good either! Why don’t you try playing yourself!?”
The moment I heard the middle-aged man’s sudden outburst, I roughly understood why he was so angry. It seemed he had been at the concert hall earlier. He must have been a fan of Miss Milkah and had been holding a grudge after hearing my harsh criticism.
I shot a quick glare at Vira—the one who had caused this mess—then answered the middle-aged man.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have an instrument.”
“So you’re saying you’ll play if you have one? Just wait a moment.”
The middle-aged man walked over to the busker who had just finished performing and was packing up his equipment. He muttered something to him, they exchanged a few words and some money, and then the middle-aged man gestured for me to come over.
“─Here, I borrowed it for a bit. Go ahead and play. You won’t break it, right?”
“…You really did borrow it.”
“What? Are you scared now that you actually have to play? Then go apologize to Miss Pocato right this instant.”
As if I would. I accepted the guitar with a slightly sour expression. The rather heavy weight of the instrument filled both my hands.
Twang, ting— As I tuned it by pressing the strings, I realized this guitar was very well cared for. The busking performance hadn’t been great, but it seemed he treasured his instrument. Maybe my earlier judgment that he lacked practice had been wrong.
‘How long has it been…’
It had been quite a while since I last held a guitar. Back in the day, I used to fiddle with it often as a hobby, but my studies had been so demanding that I never had any free time.
Fortunately, my skills hadn’t rusted. Or more precisely, my body still clearly remembered the songs it had once learned.
“─Not bad.”
Piano was a cultivated skill. Guitar was a hobby.
It was only natural that a hobby would be far better than something done for cultivation.
“Mister. You asked how well I could play, right?”
“Huh? Yeah.”
“Listen carefully.”
The song of the Queen that had once covered the entire Earth rang out across this world once again.