act18side

Break a leg! I'll be cheering for you!

But... Even though I've been practicing for this day, I'm still not that confident...

Then there's that prophecy too, saying something about an ensemble... What if it's me...?

C'mon, you've got this! What's there to be scared of? All those who were afflicted last night have already been treated, so I'm sure we'll be fine today!

This is actually the first time I've had to sit with so many Infected. Hopefully this concert is worth my while.

Is Herr Czerny here yet?

According to the organizer, he was also affected by last night's Originium slug incident, but he did not cancel his scheduled appearance today.

Oh? That's good.

Damen und Herren, please take your seats. Herr Czerny will be here shortly.

You speak the truth, yes? You'd better not wait until after we're inside the hall to close the doors and announce that he can't make it––

I assure you that would never happen. Herr Czerny is only experiencing a mild seasonal malaise, and will arrive at Afterglow Hall soon.

That sly bastard... I knew the files couldn't have just up and disappeared.

I can deal with him later. The files aren't that big of a deal anyway, not when compared to the actual research on the Voice of Mundane.

––Is he going to the concert hall?

Forget it... He can knock himself out.

By the looks of things, espionage is difficult work.

Hmph. You should probably be worrying about yourself rather than about me, Gräfin Strollo.

Harboring the Witch King's remains in your own demesne and propping up research on the Voice of Mundane are serious crimes.

By the way, my good spy, how did my father and brother die, according to your records?

Let's stay on topic.

They are closely related to this topic.

Fifteen years ago, your father provided cover for research on the Voice of Mundane. After we found out, he was about to spill the beans on the men behind him, but was silenced.

Had you known, it would be reasonable to assume you'd act on the knowledge.

You think I'm trying to cover this up?

My views towards my father have also changed over time.

As a child, I felt like my father was the most terrifying person in the world. His will was absolute, and nobody could change his mind.

I liked running and jumping about, so my father would lock me up in my room. I liked to talk during mealtime, so my father would take away my dinner and make me talk to the wall for an hour.

Later, as I got older, my awe towards my father continued to grow unabated. I personally saw the way the lesser nobles kissed his feet, and the disdain with which he regarded them.

Even the Witch King's envoys had no choice but to speak softly when they approached the Strollo Spire, a far cry from their overbearing airs while on the ground.

That was the Lord of House Strollo, our Lehnsherr. A Kurfürst, and once the most revered of all houses.

But everything changed when the Witch King fell.

Let me be up front: you're currently in very bad shape.

As a doctor, I should be forbidding you from playing the concert.

But it doesn't look like you're trying to stop me.

I don't want the music that you've burnt your life away for to die in the dust.

Seems like you're finally learning to be flexible.

No, but I've come to realize that at times, certain goals must be prioritized over others.

I often found it ridiculous that my father was stupid enough to embrace the Witch King's rule.

He was so staggeringly stupid that he didn't even bother concealing his opinions.

Under his leadership, the Strollo family quickly lost the support of the Kurfürsten.

Our house also lost control over two nomadic cities and was forced to retreat to Vyseheim, near the homeland of the Witch King, Urtica.

Did Graf Strollo, who lorded over Vyseheim, foolishly believe that he didn't belong there?

So your father, discontent with the status quo, began to commune with the remnants of the Witch King.

Hah, that's what I thought at the time, but you aren't as naive as I was back then, my dear spy.

Your agents should know far better than I. Old Strollo was messing around with the Witch King's remains since the very beginning, wasn't he?

Oh, right. You still haven't answered my question. By your accounts, how did my brother die?

Food poisoning. That is the official report, and our conclusion.

Food poisoning? Hah.

Alright then. Tell me this. Just how much do you know about my father?

In exchange, I can tell you how my brother really died.

We don't actually use the term 'Witch King's remains', because it's too vague.

Some of the bastards who invoke the Witch King do so because they worship his power, while others covet the political capital he gained during his reign.

Your father was undoubtedly the latter.

And behind this second group is an extensive, sprawling net. Your father was just one small branch of it.

Also I hope you don't forget, Gräfin Strollo, that this is an interrogation, not a negotiation.

The only reason I'm answering any of your questions is because we were unable to determine your brother's cause of death.

Hm?

Look, it's Herr Czerny and that doctor!

Herr Czerny, are you alright?

*cough*, I'm fine.

We heard you were going to perform an all-new piece today?!

That's right.

Even though not everyone will get to hear it because of the concert hall's limited seating, I will come back and perform for everyone again.

That's great news!

*cough*...

Don't push yourself, Mr. Czerny.

The road from Czerny's house to Afterglow Hall is not long, but the man's steps are extremely sluggish.

Hibiscus isn't sure if he can even play the piano in this state.

Oripathy is a real disease, not some ethereal thing that can be defeated through willpower alone.

But at this moment, she chooses to place her faith in the musician's willpower.

Hibiscus can feel Czerny exerting every fiber of his being just to stay upright.

All she can do is support him, keeping him from losing his balance under his exertion.

The rest is his battle alone.

I've got it.

Hm?

I've got it. The name for the new piece.

I'll call it––

Hold on.

What's the matter?

Shouldn't those two be the first to know?

Heh, you've got a point.

My good spy, come here and behold the great hero of the Afterglow, our illustrious composer, Herr Czerny.

I don't know how long you've been hiding in Vyseheim, but even you must be quite familiar with him.

It's really something, a city like this, run by a house like yours, could produce such an outstanding musician.

You seem to have a high regard for Herr Czerny. It makes sense. Who could dislike a pure-spirited musician?

Even I've always liked him.

Oh, but don't get the wrong idea, it's not that kind of like. And even if it was, it'd never work out between us.

Surely you've heard about the story about him and his old friend.

I'm quite thankful that a woman named Gertrude is nowhere to be found in that story.

Hah, give me a break.

You should already know. The one who brought his music and his story to the world was me.

Without me, he would've died in a ditch somewhere long ago.

So you used the 'Infected maestro born in an Infected ghetto' trope as a gimmick and had him dance like a jester for the nobles who deigned to descend here?!

It seems this city is nearer and dearer to your heart than I imagined, my good spy.

To be honest, my original plan was hardly this compassionate. For the sake of reviving the House of Strollo, what is the dignity of a single musician?

However––

As a Leithanian noble, music was a compulsory part of my upbringing.

I must admit that even I have been awestruck by his music.

Listen, the performance has already begun.

The difference between these performances and his is like heaven and earth.