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If that's not it... I don't know how else to explain it...? Why would they go after a woman as great as Paola...?

I've had enough of the Siracusan mafia! Why don't we just leave for Victoria or somewhere even further? How's Columbia sound?

We might have to quit playing, but we can do odd jobs or whatever to feed ourselves, just like we did before we met Paola.

Hmm... we should take Liesel with us.

Of course. Even if I only earn enough for a bowl of macaroni, you bet half of it's going to the girl. She will not starve on my watch!

Liesel does not manage to make out what the rest say in response, nor does she have the will to listen further.

She only feels her head spinning, her eyes stinging, her entire body heavy like lead, she only wants... to fall into Paola's embrace.

*creak—*

Liesel does not return to her own bed, and instead opens the door to Paola's room.

Paola forgot to shut the window tight on the day of the Championship, and the rain from last night had soaked the nearby stack of music sheets. Even a day later, the paper remains wrinkled.

You forgot to close the window again, huh?

Even though I'd remind her every night. Honestly, everything else might as well be dust, once she dove into her music.

Paola...

*sob*...

The tears she tried her best to hold back for the sake of the meeting with the Kazimierizian businessman and the orchestra now burst forth once more.

Liesel gathers the sheets by the window, trying to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper, but even her fingers appear to her as blurry as the notes soaked by the rain.

She knows how dreadful and silly she must look. If Paola saw her like this, she'd join in the crying too.

Paola had been accompanying Liesel to her parents' graves when they overheard a lady performing a foreign melody nearby, and she cried the same way Liesel is crying now.

The trombone player was startled by the red-eyed Paola, but later became part of the family, just like Bassoon, and even Timpani—

Paola had been standing at the pier when she discovered Timpani driving piles into the ground with a steel drill. You have a good sense of rhythm, she said; so why not join my orchestra as a timpani player?

Liesel asked Paola before why someone as talented as her would leave Leithanien.

Paola only tilted her head in response then. She didn't fully understand herself—

Why didn't her countrymen understand that she only wanted to perform the pieces she liked—why couldn't they accept even that?

These scores... were her favorites...

The paint on this metronome's flaking off. She must have brought it from Leithanien.

Oh, so this earring was all the way in the back of this drawer. Paola was so sad when she thought she'd lost it.

This costume has been altered so many times, and it's still not finished. She said she'd wear it for the performance in two days...

Liesel gently picks up the crimson dress, her fingers tracing the gold thread on the neckline. The fabric is somewhat old with dye fading at its fraying edges, but the elaborate embroidery work is as brilliant as ever.

Next to the dress hanger is a staff, standing in silence.

Her staff... You had so much to teach me about Arts, so why...?

Why did someone do that to you?

The streetlights outside the window flicker to life, and passing headlights flash in and out of her vision, blurred by her overflowing tears.

Light. A flash of light.

The flash of light reflected off the drinking glass.

Liesel's fingers freeze. A blurry fragment surges forth from her memories like ice on a lake suddenly cracking from all the suppressed water—

The slender, hooded figure, half-hidden behind a shelf. The spotlight shining down, illuminating the glass in his hand.

Towering horns under the light.

That's... the man I thought was lost in the cellar...

But he's... a Caprinae...?

That's no Bellone, and no Lupo either, there's no way... What's going on?!

Like Trombone says, we have nothing to do with the mafia...

Could it be... Bellone really has nothing to do with this? Or maybe... he's not the murderer?

But, then why... why a Caprinae?

Liesel looks up, her gaze fixed on the photo on the headboard of Paola's bed.

A formal group photo of the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra after a performance. Other than a few Elafia, the other members, numbering a dozen or so, are all Caprinae.

Once she joked to Paola, asking if she intended to recruit every Leithanian in Siracusa into the group, and Paola laughed, saying it would be wonderful.

What if that person was no stranger, but one of... our players in disguise?

No, no way! How could I suspect one of our own?

But...

I have to find the killer... I have to know who killed Paola!

Paola, when you were teaching me Arts, you said telling the truth can sometimes hurt, but it's like a flame; warm and powerful.

You always told me to never lie, and to do the right thing...

But... what if doing it would scorch our family?

Liesel bites her lip, trying to stop herself from voicing her thoughts, but they only remain stuck in her head.

The exhaustion, shocks, pain, and fear from the past few days have squeezed her into a tiny ball, primed to blow.

Her tears no longer flow. She only feels cold.

Just a few more days until that murderer's been sentenced, and we'll bring Liesel with us and leave this place.

Tch.

What's wrong?

You see that luxury hotel over there?

Bah. Bellone businesses wherever we go.

Huh? You mean the priciest place, the one that's impossible to book is theirs too?!

<i>Scheiße,</i> they sure are raking in the cash.

Rich men like them probably can buy themselves an acquittal, right?

Gotta do every verdammt thing myself. Just you wait, I'll stab him a couple of times someday!

Enough. Did you forget what Trombone said? Besides, with that lame leg of yours, the cops would catch you right after you got your first stab in, and then you'd just break Liesel's heart again.

Right, right. We can't let her suffer anymore... no, I still can't just let it be!

Fine, why don't we go outside and spit on the ground?

Let's go!—No! That won't blow off enough steam. I need to get in a good punch or two.

Hah... You're the most stubborn man in this orchestra.

Fine! I'll come along—

What?!

Timpani and Bassoon have been detained?

For getting into a conflict on a Bellone property?!

No, I'm not Paola... No, nothing. Yes, I am Liesel Memminger. The phone number is correct.

Alright, I'll come at once...

She has barely managed to drift off when a shrill ringtone interrupts her sleep.

Liesel cannot decide if the caller's description of what happened or the resulting scene taking shape in her imagination is more devastating.

Her heart pounds violently as she puts on a coat before heading outside.

Perhaps because it is late at night, or maybe because a murder just happened, she fails to find a cab for hire. In a moment of desperation, she starts sprinting towards the nearest police station.

The night wind whispers to her like background noise leaking from an old stage. Liesel runs as fast as she can, even though her foggy thoughts only get noisier the more she tries to calm herself down.

Did they actually go looking for Bellone associates?

Did someone make a move?

Did they... do something for me... for Paola?

The wind stings her eyes, but she runs even faster, her balance nearly slipping.

Personally, I think we should never forget what the Bellones did to Paola.

No, there's no way...

If I ever see one of their mobsters, my fist is going straight in their jaw!

Timpani, Bassoon...

No... no! They wouldn't do such things!

Huff... *cough*, *cough*...

Liesel gasps for breath like a bellows about to burst as the night wind slips into her arms, sending her into shivers.

She notices a few passers-by ahead, looking at her as if they have spotted a lunatic.

She does not care, all she thinks is to go fast, faster—

But the closer she gets to the police station, the more the greyish-white building seems to slowly press down on her like a huge, unfeeling stage curtain.

Liesel slows down. She stands on the street corner, and spots an officer smoking outside at the gate in front of the lit-up station entrance.

For a second, she seems to want to turn and run.

Did they do this thinking they had no other choice, because I'm so useless?

What if they actually did something?

What if one of them is the real culprit?