level_act18side_08_beg

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.

You've been avoiding the question for some time now.

What are you trying to accomplish?

Oh my, would you look at that. I just can't shut my mouth when it comes to Czerny.

Everyone around me thinks I hate him, and everyone around him knows that he hates me. This unfortunate misunderstanding has robbed me of a conversation partner.

But let's not talk about me anymore... Back to my brother.

Ugh, that topic really isn't as interesting as Czerny though.

But it's only natural for his death to remain a mystery to you.

It was my work, after all.

Phew... How are you feeling?

I think we've pretty much been in sync with each other.

Even though he composed this piece for the two of us, it clearly has his style all over it. I don't think it's inferior to 'Morgen und Abend' in any way.

And he only spent a single night on this... What an incredible man.

Composing is the release of a long build-up. I think he simply found the right opportunity for it.

What are you staring at?

I had no idea you knew how to give a compliment.

It's not as if I've ever downplayed his musical accomplishments.

Haha.

My only hope is that he will make it to the concert.

He'll be here.

Composing a piece of music is only the first step. Only through turning the score into actual music can the piece truly be completed.

News has already gotten out that he'll be changing the finale. He's not going to give up now.

I hope so.

Oh right, Ebenholz. Do you think this suit looks good on me? I've never worn anything this expensive before, so I don't know if I might've messed something up.

It... looks very good.

Thank goodness.

Oh, there's one other thing.

Why are you so unusually chatty today?

Is that to say I have a normal level of chatty under normal circumstances?

Yes... something like that.

Just deal with it then. Who knows, this might be the last time we ever play together.

Why would you think that?

Why wouldn't I?

After this is over, you'll return to being Graf Urtica, and I... will continue to wander.

Even though our meeting was somewhat engineered by the Gräfin, it was still just a coincidence at first, wasn't it?

But––

But we're friends now. I know that's what you were going to say.

Right.

Sometimes, even friends have to go their separate ways.

Maybe this time, we won't see each other for a long, long time.

But do you remember what I said? We can always give gifts to remember each other by.

I'll give you one of my dice then.

Aren't those your weapons? Do they still work if you're missing one?

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure.

Let's not worry about it then. I think a coin with a hole drilled through it works best, just like I said before.

What about you then? What are you going to give me?

I'm still thinking.

Take your time. As long as things go well today, that's something we'll have plenty of.

Right, we still have plenty of time.

Enough of your jokes, Gertrude Strollo!

Do you have any idea what you've just said?!

I said, I was the one killed my brother.

You've gone mad.

Mad? No, think about it carefully, my good spy.

Your once exalted father falls from grace, funding some shady research in secret. He tries to blow hot and cold, his plans are exposed, and he ultimately meets an untimely end.

Afterwards, your brother is groomed by 'them', terrified into obedience.

But he is too incompetent, he can't do a single thing right. He slips up once and almost exposes the ones pulling his strings.

Instead of watching him suffer in torment at the hands of those who always despised him, isn't it better to use him as a stepping stone so you can succeed him?

Who are 'they'? Who are the ones pulling his strings?

Oh, I would like to know that more than anyone, far more than you would.

If you had that information, I would sit down and strike a deal with you here and now.

I might even go down into the streets myself to yell about how I have information on the Witch King's remains.

Tainted witness. If I recall, this saying has grown quite popular in Columbia?

I've met no shortage of idiots who thought they could play ball with us, Gräfin Strollo.

Didn't end well for any of them.

Herr Czerny, are you alright?

I want to say yes, but that would be a lie.

If you really can't handle it, then––

Ebenholz, don't forget whose decision this whole thing was.

If that's what you want, then I will give my all.

The two of us have already mastered the piece you wrote. If you, the composer, can't perform on par due to health problems, then that's entirely on you.

Well spoken. The melody is already etched into my head. All you two have to do is follow me.

You talk a big game.

Alright. Now that Mr. Czerny is here, let's hurry up and get ready to go onstage!

Whether for our own sake or for our audience, we've all got to put our best foot forward.

Kreide, is it just me, or do you seem... unusually excited today?

Do I?

That might be because...

For the first time, I'm experiencing what it means to be alive.

I don't get you at all.

Herr Czerny, you're up.

Oh right, there's one other thing, Herr Czerny.

What is this piece called? You still haven't given it a name.

I came up with it on the way here.

I will name it——

'Licht und Schatten.'

Next up... Czerny, Ebenholz, and Kreide will ferry you away to tonight's finale.

As you may already know, this piece is Herr Czerny's new composition, debuting tonight for the very first time.

Its title is–– 'Trio for Flute, Cello, and Piano in B-flat minor - Licht und Schatten.'

The three bow to the audience, and the concert-goers in the auditorium respond with warm applause.

The music begins.

After just a few short measures, the entire audience, from the auditorium to the balcony, sits up straight in their seats, those who previously wore expressions of expectation and suspicion alike.

No whispers, no coughs, not even the sound of clothes rubbing together.

Not a single soul wishes to disturb this fleeting, unadulterated beauty.

Small beads of sweat begin to emerge on Czerny's forehead.

But this does not indicate any problems with the trio, outside of their music. It's just that the power he is required to guide and control is too precise.

They've begun their performance.

Czerny, I just knew you wouldn't disappoint me. You will find a way to help them.

Listen, this new piece... How could the audience possibly comprehend that this opening came straight from the Witch King?

Of course they cannot comprehend, because this piece already belongs to you.

Ah, this melody... It all makes sense now.

You intend to rip the Voice of Mundane out of both of them. Bold.

However, what will you do after that? Are you going to become the new vessel?

In Biegler's eyes, Gertrude has gone completely insane.

She mumbles to herself in the direction of the concert hall, as if conversing with a dear friend.

My dear spy, would you like to hear my performance?

Gertrude seems to be addressing Biegler, but is also muttering to herself at the same time. As she speaks, she walks toward the harp sitting in the corner of the room.

My patience is running out, Gräfin Strollo.

I bought this house for a reason.

It sits outside the Afterglow, but you can still hear the music coming from the concert hall clearly. A wonderful location, isn't it?

I love listening to the music that passes through here.

This way, he doesn't have to see me, and I don't have to see him.

She begins to play as she speaks.

Gräfin Strollo, the Arts Units in this building have already been disassembled.

And even if they weren't, don't think your Arts will work on me. Men easily swayed by music don't make good spies.

I only want to play the harp, my good spy.

Czerny hates me. He hates me for not treating music with purity. He hates me for using it as a tool.

I once sought to defend myself and explain it away, but I later came to realize, I might actually be exactly the woman he says I am.

Even if he carved my heart out, I would never able to treat music with purity.

Tell me, how could one who has committed fratricide; a woman who, for over ten years, has been hell-bent on exacting revenge on those puppetmasters, possibly achieve anything close to purity?

As much as Biegler doesn't want to admit it, Gertrude's performance is excellent, not at all paling in comparison to the echoes drifting in from beyond the window.

Without a doubt, this is the level that all outstanding Leithanian nobles should aspire to.

But, the words that come out of Gertrude's mouth make him shudder.

Wait, revenge?!

You're a clever man. You should've guessed that my tragic failure last night was not the result of impetuousness.

But you don't know what I'm hiding. You believe I've exhausted my plans, which is the only reason you're here chatting with me.

The truth is, I do want to buy time, but some words have been festering in my head for far too long, which is why I can't help but ramble on.

I do hope you pardon my rudeness.

Furthermore, I must apologize that you'll be dying here with me.

What the hell are you doing?!

It truly is an eye-opening piece of music – or, so it was at the beginning.

Just as the title implies, the music weaves a shattered illusion from the very beginning, making one's heart sink to the bottom of a valley as if dark clouds are blotting out the sun.

However, the tune changes almost immediately, the sonorous cello uplifting the flute's clarity with the piano behind them both to break through the layers of gloom, singing a paean to the joy of glimpsing the light of day.

O, Light!

This is the singular thought in everyone's head.

They immediately understand the 'Licht' in 'Licht und Schatten.'

They begin to look forward to the 'Schatten.'

However, a feeling of unease begins to set in to some members of the audience.

Because they see the expressions of suffering creeping across the faces of the three performers.

As if something is gnawing away at them from within.

Beautiful.

An exemplary musician, devoting his life to fighting the power left behind by the Witch King.

Just as he is about to pull this doomed battle back to a stalemate, he loses not to the Witch King, or to himself, but to the obsessions of an old acquaintance.

Hey, what are you going on about?

Do you hear the harp's voice?

Huh? A harp? Why would there be a harp? Isn't this supposed to be a trio?

Philistine.

Listen to the sound coming from that small building in the distance.

The shrill laughter erupting from the depths of despair is equally beautiful.

As for you, my former student...

While I was teaching you to speak using the violin, I heard the motif of your fate... What a cruel melody it was.

But I never expected that you could develop it into such a brilliant opus.

I salute all of you, people I may or may not know.

I shall listen. For that is the only way I know to pay my respects.

I was the one who restarted the Voice of Mundane program, my good spy.

You alone?

First, the Voice of Mundane is exceedingly rare. And after that ordeal, you ultimately took control of two of them.

Second, past research has proven that an individual who isn't blood-related to the Witch King cannot possibly withstand this type of experimentation.

In other words, even after you people tore apart that plan, it was not completely abandoned, merely shelved.

In the end, the Voice of Mundane program originates from the worship of the Witch King, but how many are there who, from the depths of their hearts, can truly worship fear itself?

They only wanted a weapon to overthrow the Twin Empresses, just as the Twin Empresses overthrew the Witch King.

As for me, after I realized that my brother's incompetence would bring ruin to our entire house, I had no choice but to act.

Nevertheless, I still never found a way to show my value to those shadowy worshipers.

Music, Arts, money, authority, even my body... Nothing worked.

Finally, I found these dust-covered plans in a pile of my father's old writings.

The reboot of the program brought a fresh breath of opportunity for me. They began to think that I might amount to something.

But what they didn't know is I've already had enough.

I don't want to be at their beck and call anymore.

So, I set this plan into motion. Not for the sake of overthrowing anyone, unfortunately.

I just want them to get a taste of what it's like to suffer.

I sucked up to them and invited them to come appreciate the fruits of my research.

If you go take a walk around the concert hall now, you might find proof of some things you've long suspected.

Everything from the human experimentation facility in the sewers to the dossier on the Voice of Mundane program... Did you deliberately allow me and Ebenholz to find them?

Those were only meant for the eyes of you spies. I never expected Graf Urtica to go looking for you people.

And you tipped your hand to keep them from discovering what you had really done to the concert hall.

Of course. The amplifiers are nothing more than a small distraction.

With those amplifiers, all of the Afterglow would have been made to suffer.

With the amplifiers dismantled, the Afterglow is indeed spared, but the same cannot be said for those inside the concert hall.

The remodeling of the concert hall began after my research into the Voice of Mundane had progressed to its next phase.

Czerny is trying to use his own composition to draw the Voice of Mundane out of the boys––

But what I'm trying to do is much simpler. The moment they try to pull out the Voice, they will realize that nothing is in their control.

I have tampered with the melody and Resonanz of the Voice of Mundane. Anyone who tries to become the new vessel, regardless of who it might be, will have to endure turmoil and chaos a hundred times greater.

The Voice, unable to find a suitable vessel, will collapse into an all-consuming void within the concert hall built by the Witch King himself, swallowing everyone within.

Of course, I am a part of this performance, and I equally have no hope of escape.

As for you, my unfortunate spy, if you don't take this chance to escape, then you can only bemoan your ill fortune.

My, what a fierce look you have in your eyes. I know what you want to do.

But my apologies. I can no longer extricate myself from this song.

Killing me would be no different from killing the three men on that stage. All it'll do is bring about those deaths a little faster.

Czerny desperately wants to stop the performance.

But he cannot do it.

The moment he begins to reel in the Voice of Mundane, he feels a single strand of abnormality. But in that solitary moment, it is already too late.

The concert hall begins to absorb and reflect their performance like a massive Arts Unit.

Resonanz. True resonance.

He immediately realizes that Gertrude's alterations were far greater than just some simple amplifiers.

The concert hall itself has become a weapon.

Why did you do this, Gertrude...?

Herr Czerny, if we continue on like this...

Don't stop!

The Voice of Mundane has already destabilized due to the interference of the concert hall.

If we stop now, not only will both of you, but everyone in the venue will die along with you when Voice rampages out of control after losing its vessels!

(But––)

They all know that this piece begins with Ebenholz's Voice of Mundane and ends with Kreide's.

Even if they don't stop, Kreide's Voice will be pulled from his body by the piece's conclusion, and the inevitable will still transpire.

This is a dead end.

There's an atmosphere of uneasiness, and they're holding back on their Arts. What in blazes is going on...?

Excuse me!

You're the one from Rhodes Island...

Hurry and start evacuating the concert hall!

Huh?

Something bad's about to happen!

If we don't hurry, it's going to be a disaster!

Is this the product of Gertrude's research? Fascinating.

What do you think about this?

Not bad for a minor Gräfin, as far as I'm concerned.

Let's have her pay us a visit afterwards.

Indeed.

How were you so sure that they'd use the concert hall today?

My good spy, you're mistaken about one thing.

I can't say for sure what is about to unfold.

What I can say for sure is – as long as they're still in that concert hall trying to save Kreide, then I've won.

Kreide's disease is my final bargaining chip. If they can somehow resolve that, then I've lost.

This is the situation.

What... the hell is this? This plan... can hardly even be called a plan!

That's because my plan was a failure from the very beginning!

You think I'm sitting here chatting with you because I have an elaborate backup plan? How's would that make any sense?

If not for Czerny's unwillingness to cooperate with me, if not for the fact that even the insignificant little Graf Urtica insists on rebelling against his trifling, worthless fate, why would I even bet on this method?

Czerny will never realize how fortunate he is. That he was born with enough talent to be recognized, that I was willing to provide him a stage.

All he had to do was be a little nicer to me, and I would've elevated his music to the loftiest heights, perhaps even before Their Majesties.

But he refused to do even that!

And that Graf Urtica. He deemed himself a vase sitting on display in his demesne, as if a bit of ridicule and insult is the greatest humiliation one can suffer in life.

But look at me. I've endured the manipulation of the puppetmasters of this city for fifteen years. Fifteen long years!

If I can't produce results, I will be silenced. By what right are they allowed to live while I am not?

I don't care about the Witch King. I don't care about the Twin Empresses. I've only ever wanted to survive!

From the beginning, all I wanted was to live on...

After coming to Vyseheim, Ebenholz settled on a few more things he wanted to do.

He wanted to spend a bit more time walking around the Afterglow, taking in the sights of the vibrant district.

He wanted to perform on a few more instruments, for the first time experiencing the charm of music.

He wanted to apologize to Czerny, to tell him how much strength his music had brought him. He wanted Czerny to become his formal music teacher, should he be willing.

He wanted to spend more time with Kreide.

He didn't know what he wanted to do with that time. Maybe chat, maybe argue, maybe even fight? He didn't know what he wanted to do with the time, but he wanted a little more of it.

But had he never come to this city, had he never accepted Gertrude's invitation, none of this would have ever happened.

It is his shallowness that has caused things to deteriorate to this extent.

He knows how to break free from this dead end, and he is determined to do it.

Frankly, had Czerny not devised a new plan, he might've even wanted to carry out Gertrude's plan.

But hypothetically, if the past him had wanted to do this, it would've only been to lessen the weight of sin within his heart.

Now, however, he will say that it is not for atonement.

He shoots a glance at Czerny and at Kreide.

One, an eminent maestro. The other, his dear, new friend.

He thinks to himself, they deserve to live much more than he does.

What he does not realize is that the moment he opened himself up completely to the music, he was no longer able to hide his emotions.

Ebenholz, don't do anything stupid!

Hah, Graf Urtica, my dear. You are this piece's beginning.

Even if you forcibly reverse this piece and incorporate it into your own mind, how will you deal with the dissonance and contradiction?

Struggle to your dying breath!

One by one, they all want to flee. They all want to flee their fates – but how, and why?

For fifteen years, I've lived in their shadows, but at last, at long last, I have won!

I've won! Fate is on my side!

None of you will escape! Not a single one!

How unsightly. The musicians seem to be fighting against the very music they play.

Did Gertrude also arrange this?

This–– I'm not so sure.

A situation seems to have arisen during our performance. Please exit the auditorium.

Once again, please exit the auditorium.

Ah, the MC just asked the audience to leave. Look––

Shut him up.

Indeed.

Urgh...

What are you doing?!

Just shutting up an Infected.

Do you have any idea what's going on?

All I know is if you don't shut up as well, you're going to end up the same way.

Don't do it!

(Even if I can only buy you a little bit of time...)

Should you ask Kreide whether he wants to break free of his old life...

His answer would surely be – 'Yes.'

His grandpa told him that his body was extremely special, something he gradually discovered himself.

The people around him would start to suffer, and those he treated with kindness would leave him in the end – so he started to distance himself from them.

But, he doesn't find it a terrible existence.

The first thing he learned during his long life of vagrancy was that cursing fate doesn't make life any better.

He can only find the meaning of his life from the few things he can do in the moment.

And now, he realizes that it is his cue.

No life is worth more than any other, but he has made friends and received camaraderie. He feels fulfilled.

The sunlight shines warmly outside. It is a good day to die.

Hm?

What––?!

The cello... Kreide! What is he doing?!

Kreide, not you too...!

Herr Czerny, how could the music you've poured your life into be trampled like this?

Besides, I am the end of the piece. It's only fitting that I do this, right?

Do you have any idea what you're doing?!

Ebenholz, don't stop. Just keep matching my rhythm.

(But then, you'll––)

Let's put the finishing touches on our final performance together, okay?

(No!)

Trust me, Ebenholz, Herr Czerny. I'll take care of this.

I...

(I believe in you.)

The piece... has gone back to normal?

No, something's wrong! Kreide is...

Mein Herr, something isn't quite right with this Infected woman. Look here...

Forget it. Why bother with a common Infected? The appreciation of music should come first.

Listen, everything's gone back to normal now.

Seems like whatever happened before was just some shock value for the show.

I assume she wanted to demonstrate the difficulty of controlling the Voice of Mundane, for the purpose of increasing her own value.

Ah, you're right. Maybe she's not half bad after all.

Not only did she prepare such an interesting technique for us, she even treated us to an elegant piece of music.

The juxtaposition of light and shadow is vividly reflected in the trio of flute, cello, and piano.

Finally, the piece approaches its coda with an ensemble of cello and piano.

Listeners strain their ears, expecting to hear the whispers of the cold night, the embrace of darkness, the call of the abyss.

But they are greeted only with a long, drawn-out sigh from the void.

After what seems like an eternity, applause finally breaks out across the audience that gradually swells with enthusiasm.

But before the applause can sweep across the venue, it crashes against the dissonance of horrified screams.

It's over... Kreide, you've done it!

No, there's... still something I have to do...

Kreide, what's happening to you... your body?!

Ebenholz, let's go outside.

Herr Czerny, please take Hibiscus and evacuate the audience. Have them get as far away from here as they can.

You—

Kreide, your body...

I'm sorry, Herr Czerny. Fräulein Hibiscus.

There's so much I want to say to you, but... It seems like now isn't the time.

Take me there, Ebenholz, while I can still control myself.

The melody in my head... is getting louder and louder...

The two melodies are... tugging, inside my head...

Hurry, Ebenholz. Take me outside.

The concert hall is amplifying both melodies at once. I can't hold on for much longer...

I know!

Ebenholz, you...

I'll take care of Kreide.

But––

I said, I'll take care of Kreide!

Hibiscus, go with Herr Czerny and evacuate the crowd!

Upon witnessing the metamorphosis taking place on stage, the people in the auditorium begin to flee.

Panicked screams follow one after another, and Hibiscus and Czerny's shouts can be heard among them. However, to Ebenholz's ears, everything is blurring into white noise. His eyes fixate only on the plaza outside the concert hall.

You were planning to do this the entire time, weren't you?

Perish the thought...

I just... did it on a hunch.

A hunch?! When I said you were being unusually easygoing today, it was all because of a hunch?!

No, no... I truly am glad that I got to perform with you and Herr Czerny.

This is the happiest I've been my entire life.

Then why'd you go and pull a stunt like this?!

There are still so many happy things waiting for you––

But if I didn't, then either you or Herr Czerny would've done it, right?

So that means it somehow falls upon you?!

You've never had a single good day your entire life, whereas I'm the one who's had enough of living since a long time ago. It should've been me!

Sorry, Ebenholz.

Why are you apologizing... What do you have to be sorry for?!

The way I look now... must be truly hideous, right?

I've torn up the clothes you had made for me, haven't I? Those nice, expensive clothes...

Don't worry about that! I'll buy as many suits as you want!

I'm sorry––

You...

You liar...

I'm furious with you now, Kreide.

I'm really, really mad!

Kreide is too weak to lift his head, but he can hear Ebenholz's sobbing.

What's going on? What the hell just happened?

No idea... But Herr Czerny said the concert's on hold, and that Hibiscus girl was desperately urging us to evacuate.

It'll be fine though. Nothing's going to happen to us.

But the sky suddenly went dark... Do you think some disaster might actually be coming?

Think about what that prophecy said... Fades Finale's Ensemble...

Don't worry, it'll be fine. That prophecy also called Hibiscus a 'Fiend.'

It's starting to rain?

See, there's nothing to be scared of. It's just a bit of rain.

We're here.

Feel any better?

I don't think so...

I only... managed to forcibly suppress that sensation.

What do I need to do now? Hurry and tell me––

I want to... ask you a few questions.

Go ahead! Ask me anything you want!

Ebenholz, do you think... that your fate is tragic?

Is my fate... tragic?

I used to think so.

But after I met you, I realized that the past me was just crying bloody murder over nothing.

That's not your fault.

They shackled you, stole your freedom, blindfolded your eyes, and plugged your ears... That's not your fault.

Then, do you think my fate is tragic?

The first time I heard your life story, it really did come as a huge shock to me.

But I've gradually learned that your life isn't tragic. In fact, it seems very... fulfilling.

Haha, that's great to hear.

*cough*, ourgh...

Kreide, you...

I can't hold it back any longer. But, let me finish, Ebenholz.

The Voice of Mundane's completed melody swirls around in my head, and the Witch King's residual power howls from within me. Cruel thoughts are tearing at my chest, forcing me to bow down to fate.

They're forcing me to say that our stories were painful, our reunion was misfortune, and that our fates are tragic.

But!

But, Ebenholz!

I will rebuke them!

Do you understand, Ebenholz?

I won't deny that the Voice of Mundane has caused us untold suffering.

I won't deny that your life as a Graf, filled with humiliation and scorn, was a misfortune.

I won't deny that my experiences living an unstable life of wandering have been tragic.

But I will deny... I will always deny... the suggestion that my life is defined by those words.

My grandpa carried a burden like me around for over ten years. During those years, I lived in abject poverty, denied a relationship with anyone but Grandpa.

But as long as I give kindness to others, I can feel their kindness in return.

I even met a teacher who was willing to teach me how to play the cello.

Most importantly – after more than ten years, I met you again.

Ebenholz, don't ever forget. We are both subjects of that cruel, inhumane experiment. And we survived.

When we feel like cursing our own fates, we cannot afford to forget that!

We met each other again, became friends again, and delivered a perfect performance on stage together!

Are we not lucky?

We've already been blessed... Actually, is there anyone out there luckier than us? No, and there never will be!

I understand. I get it.

No, you still don't get it!

Kreide's voice is already laced with a deep rumbling. The growl of a monster.

But to Ebenholz, even those words are gentle, like words of advice from an older brother to his younger sibling before a long trip.

If you really get it, then please don't weep for me. Ebenholz, my dearest brother.

We were supposed to die together here, to bury everyone in the entire concert hall along with us.

But we fought it!

To others, this resistance might seem insignificant. But it was a chance for us to give everything for each other.

This was a sacrifice that both of us were willing to make. It just happened to be me who did it in the end, that's all!

What a wonderful opportunity. To give everything for each other, asking nothing in return!

We walk the path of rebellion against fate, just like Herr Czerny did when he poured his life into composing this piece for us––

So, stand up and hold your head high, Ebenholz.

There's still one last thing for you to do, and that is––

To use everything you have to defeat me. To keep me from destroying everything here. Do you understand?

...I do.

I really... like that look in your eyes.

Kreide unsteadily shambles to the center of the plaza.

With each step he takes, Originium crystals erupt from his body, his flesh and blood beginning to churn.

A strange melody lingers over the plaza.

The crystals rapidly envelop Kreide's body, transforming into armor, transforming into instruments.

In a heartbeat, the being once known as Kreide is swallowed up, and in his place stands a monstrosity.

Anyone who sees this monster has three words flash into his mind––

The Witch King.

We stand at a critical juncture, my exalted Damen und Herren, my dear Infected brothers and sisters.

And you too, Ebenholz!

Harken! Listen well to my final piece!

Castigate me. Lament for me. Cry for me. Sing for me.

Because today, I shall die, and you––

Will be reborn!