The Queen of the Guitar Descends
Milka Pocato’s first memory was of herself playing the violin. Given that a sense of self usually solidifies around four or five years old, it meant she had been playing long before then. And since she already played with considerable skill even in that memory, it was entirely possible she had come into the world with a violin bow already in her hand. Even so—.
Screeech—!
“……It doesn’t work.”
Milka stared at her own awkward fingerwork and the violin’s ear-splitting, grotesque wail before letting out a hollow laugh. It was a sound she had genuinely never imagined could come from her own hands. She had never produced anything like it as a child—not even back when her hands and sense of rhythm had been barely a third of their current size.
Feeling a strange disconnect between the techniques her remembered self had displayed and what her current body could actually produce, Milka cautiously glanced at the scientist. The very man responsible for injecting her with those suspicious drugs and reducing her to this state.
“What exactly did you do to me?”
“You said you wouldn’t mind giving up the violin, didn’t you? It turned out exactly as you asked.”
“So what you’re saying is… in exchange for losing the ability to play violin, I’ve become equally skilled at guitar?”
Watching the scientist give a light nod, Milka nearly snapped back that such a thing was ridiculous—then stopped herself. Who was this man standing in front of her? He was the chief scientist of Evils, an organization whose influence stretched across multiple cities. A figure important enough to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with, or even above, S-class villains despite holding only an executive position.
In other words, this slender man with his deceptively frail limbs—limbs that even a former F-class hero like herself should have been able to overpower—possessed status within the organization equal to or greater than that of any S-class villain.
When someone like that spoke, there was no way she could dismiss his words as a casual lie.
“……May I try playing the guitar?”
“Go ahead. Would you like some sheet music as well?”
“Yes, please.”
And so Milka took the guitar Eight handed her. Though she had never touched the instrument once in her life, her body already knew exactly what to do. As if she had spent decades practicing nothing else.
─♬
The moment her fingers brushed the strings, the Queen of Guitar descended.
When the performance ended, Milka realized she had become someone special—someone capable of carving her name into history.
When people begin learning something, those experiences accumulate in their nerves and neurons. As a result, an expert’s body possesses an entirely different neural architecture than a beginner’s.
This is precisely why no amount of desperate effort allows a novice to imitate a master. The true essence of an expert’s technique lies not in visible motion but in the internal movements hidden beneath the surface. No matter how many times you copy the exterior, you can never replicate what lies inside.
That was why Milka had become completely unable to play the violin yet had transformed into a guitar virtuoso. Her nerves and neurons had been entirely overwritten with those of a master guitarist.
Good thing there was something similar enough to implement.
It was a high-level technique even back on Earth, so I had never expected to be able to reproduce it. Fortunately, this world possessed mysterious powers that surpassed Earth’s science. ESP.
The Leviathan gene body, created during research into that very power, had succeeded in rewriting even Milka’s neural structure. She had been the first clinical trial subject.
If I’d done this on Earth, they would have crucified me for having no experimental ethics.
Not only that, I would have spent over a decade in prison paying for my crimes, forever barred from this field. All for something guaranteed to succeed with zero side effects—simply because it lacked official approval.
Compared to Earth, this world was far too convenient. All those tedious procedures—research ethics, FDA approval—could be bypassed simply by being a villain. Of course, we still observed some boundaries.
“—Let’s see. Any promising talents worth recommending?”
I had taught Milka several pieces of guitar and rock band sheet music, but it still wasn’t enough. After all, a rock band was a cultural chemical reaction born from multiple people harmonizing together to create an explosive response.
You couldn’t generate that kind of impact alone. It wasn’t as if there were no stars capable of ruling the world solo, but Milka simply didn’t possess that level of talent.
Well. If she had, she wouldn’t have needed to come whining to me about wanting to become a special existence. She could have just done everything by herself. Wasn’t the fact that she lacked such talent exactly why she had come complaining to me in the first place?
Even if they lack skill, I can just modify them like this. As long as they have some persistence…
While searching for band members suited to Milka, I realized she had already gathered every member she needed—and that she had already noticed the peculiar nature of a rock band.
Did she truly possess the audacity to seek me out merely to leave her name in history? To have already noticed, all by herself, the unique characteristic of bands that didn’t even exist in this world?
“Haha— Yes, exactly. A band only needs one star.”
The peculiar nature of a band was simple. Everyone except the main vocalist and guitarist inevitably became background.
Or, to put it another way, it meant you could fill every other position with nothing but extras.
The first thing Milka Pocato did after gaining her genius-level guitar ability was recruit band members. According to the sheet music Eight had given her, she needed a bassist, a drummer, at least three additional members, and—if possible—a pianist. Four more colleagues in total.
Fortunately, she was the prodigy of the Pocato family. A genius violinist whose name was known throughout the arts world. Even after losing her violin skills, she had not lost the network of connections she had built during that time.
She immediately reached out to her acquaintances. People she would normally have scorned for making “lowly music” and never contacted.
“—You want to start a band?”
“Miss, have you grown tired of the violin?”
They had rushed over at her summons, but they didn’t immediately accept her proposal. After all, who was Milka? Wasn’t she currently the most famous violinist in her twenties? They couldn’t believe she was seriously suggesting she would form a rock band.
Milka didn’t waste time explaining that she had lost her violin ability and gained guitar mastery in exchange, or that this band was something she was pursuing with her very soul. There wasn’t time for lengthy explanations.
Instead, she played a single song. Of all the various band pieces she had received from Eight, the one she liked most.
“—What do you think?”
“……Whoa—”
“What the hell—”
“I thought you were only a genius at violin……”
Milka gave a bitter smile at her acquaintances’ reactions. She never mentioned that this ability had come at the cost of her violin playing. There was no need.
Fortunately, after hearing her guitar skills, her acquaintances seemed to accept that she was genuinely serious about forming a band.
The problem was that even after forming the band, they couldn’t perform anywhere right away. Milka’s fame was simply too great.
If she officially announced she was starting a band, the Pocato family would never allow it. They would interfere by any means necessary and suppress her.
“How exactly are you planning to perform? You know they’ll……”
“I know. The family will try to stop me.”
“Then how are you going to……”
“—It doesn’t matter. Whether they interfere or not.”
“What?”
Before they could ask what she meant, Milka answered.
“The person who taught me this said so.”
Rock ‘n’ roll was music of rebellion. It was the flutter of wings resisting toward freedom. Something as trivial as family interference wasn’t worth worrying about.
“Do whatever you want.”
That was what the music was for. And she had received the perfect means to do exactly that. Milka pulled out the mask Eight had given her.
—The mask that proved she was a member of the villain organization.
“The performance is tonight.”
“……Tonight? We haven’t even practiced!”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Because as long as I shine, that’s enough. As long as I do well, that’s all that matters.
Milka declared it without hesitation. And so, the singing villain made her first appearance in the world.
—Listen to my song—!
Late that evening, I spotted Milka passionately singing on the street in front of a building and smiled, tilting my head to listen. I hadn’t created any singing talent for her, yet it seemed she was naturally gifted in that department.
It was loud, but it was also a song that struck people’s hearts. Listening to it made your own mood catch fire. It made me wonder whether the performance contained not just music but some kind of ESP…….
“—Sc-Scientist!”
“Hm?”
While I was listening, Aile—who seemed to have caught wind of the rumor from somewhere—came running up and begged me.
“M-me too! Please make me one of those study-well pills too…!”
“That won’t work.”
“W-why not!? You gave it to her without any price at all……!”
I let out a brief hollow laugh at Aile’s tone—as if she had left something in my care—then looked her in the eye and asked.
“That’s because she paid a suitable price.”
“What do you……”
“Or what? Do you want to be good at everything without paying any price at all?”
“Y-yes! As expected of the scientist, something like that is possible, right?”
“Of course. It’s perfectly possible.”
I gave her a villainous smile as I slowly looked her over from head to toe. Sensing something in my sinister gaze, Aile flinched and trembled.
“First, since your legs are slow, I’ll need to amputate your feet and attach prosthetic ones.”
“……Eh?”
“Your organs are uselessly producing nothing but waste, so I’ll remove them all. Then I’ll replace your stupid brain with the latest circuitry so you can remember anything……”
“U-uhhh—”
“Do you want me to do that?”
“……No, I’m sorry.”
I gave the teary-eyed girl a light flick to the forehead, then turned my attention back to the music drifting in from outside.
Sitting alone in a small laboratory, listening to rock band music. It felt like I had returned to Earth after a long time, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia.