level_act20mini_st05

What wonderful lighting. It complements your emerald eyes. Oh, how lucky I am to have a girl with such beautiful eyes.

You talk like I'm the one about to go on stage, Paola...

But yeah, you sure are lucky to have a daughter who can handle both performance and paperwork so brilliantly!

Hehe, yes, yes. So, my good daughter, I trust you'll handle tomorrow's meeting with the new shopping mall on the corner?

I have some new pieces brewing in my mind, and I'd like to put them to paper after the Red Wine Championship.

Of course, Paola. Leave it to me.

You should head to the stage now, your performance is about to begin.

Everyone will know of our Schwarzervorhang Orchestra after today's performance, and I'm sure you'll be busy.

Stage lights peek through the gap between the backstage curtains, outlining the Caprinae's horns as she raises her baton.

She saw only a silhouette.

Under the slanted cellar lamps, the reflections off the drinking glass faded and reappeared as the figure moved.

Liesel wanted to approach the figure; perhaps they were lost and in need of directions.

But she only took one step before the other turned in response and quickly moved past the shelves.

As the two brushed shoulders, the light revealed towering horns atop a black hood.

Horns...? A Caprinae's horns?

I'm sorry.

*cough*, *cough* *cough*...!

The blinding stage lights shine down on the floor where Paula fell, the spilled wine pooling glaringly like fresh blood.

Her mother's lips, which were smiling and praising her, are now dyed a shade of ominous wine red.

The bright lights cause Liesel's vision to blur, yet Paola's lifeless eyes fail to capture any of it.

Paola...?

Mama!

—Liesel?

Huh?

I was just saying, we'll handle the partnership and payment according to the contract.

I'm sure you understand?

Ah, sorry. I was distracted...

No worries. I understand, you're trying to keep the orchestra together after such a huge blow. It must be difficult.

*sigh* Again, I am so sorry for what happened to Frau Paola.

This city has lost a beautiful and talented artist!

I myself am grieving the tremendous loss, I can't imagine how her adopted daughter must feel.

I appreciate your sympathy...

I hope you bounce back quickly! I've prepared some condolence gifts for your group, you can share them later.

You shouldn't have. We are honored to simply be working with you.

So, about the performance fee...

Don't worry about it. We won't claw back the deposit.

But as I was about to say, we have decided to not continue our cooperation.

I hope your group can find solace and weather this difficult time.

W-Wait, you're not renewing the contract?!

Yes. Without a dazzling pearl like Frau Paola, your orchestra has lost its backbone. I fear the standard of your performances will not return to its original level anytime soon.

After all, we are a business, not a charity—Ah, sorry. Was that too blunt of me?

Then, what about our performances scheduled for the next two days—

Cancelled, of course. The original plan was to let our guests enjoy your music accompanying their wine tasting.

But now city hall has closed the theater for an investigation of this incident, so there's no way to continue the competition.

I'm suffering a terrible loss too, you know!

Then what about the fees for the previous performances? Our Red Wine Championship warm-up performances were perfectly fine—popular, even!

Our contract clearly states 'In the event that force majeure leads to the termination or cancellation of a performance, the client is not obliged to pay the corresponding fee.'

In other words, we pay the balance only after all the performances have been properly performed.

Ah, perhaps your grief caused you to forget this clause?

No, that is not...

*sigh* No one wanted for this to happen. It's a terrible loss for us as well, so I hope you and your orchestra can empathize.

If there's anything else we can help with, just let us know and we'll try our best to assist.

...I understand.

If you ever need our services in the future, just let me know.

Of course, of course.

But I must ask, will your group be alright, performing without Frau Paola?

Liesel! You're finally back!

Timpani pulls Liesel onto the sofa in the middle of the rehearsal room, then sits down next to her, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

His back is straight, but his bloodshot eyes betray his effort to remain chipper.

Man, that Czarek's a stubborn one. Didn't think he'd insist on discussing the contract with you just because your mother's signature was on it.

We already told him to come to us. You've just suffered such a tragic loss, how could he talk business with you right now?

Right! He has no clue how close you two were. You know, we can tell at a glance how long you spent sobbing last night!

Just stay put here, Liesel. Enough worrying over the past two days. Let us old timers handle the rest.

Just look at your hands, all wrinkly and calloused from doing the cleaning and chores all by yourself just to save money.

Huh? No, I'm fine...

Actually, I'd rather you all not worry yourselves over this. Just concentrate on rehearsal...

Right, so what did he say about our future performances? Same as usual, or are we doing something new?

But Paola didn't finish her new piece.

About that...

Our future performances... are all cancelled.

Czarek also says we only get the balance payment after all the performances are done, but now...

What?! That verdammt Kazimierzian Scheißkerl!

(Whispering) Hey, Timpani!

Trombone stops Timpani from continuing his onslaught of expletives with a tiny pinch, and gestures with her eyes for him to show some consideration to the girl on the sofa.

Ah, sorry, Liesel. I wasn't mad at you, don't worry.

Damn that Czarek, bullying a girl! Has he no heart? The Red Wine Championship ended just a while ago—you haven't even had a chance to recover, and he lays this on you?

Liesel, you should go to bed. You haven't gotten a wink of sleep since yesterday.

I left a cup of hot cystymilk in your room, so have some, alright—Oh no, it might be cold by now, why don't I go warm it up for you?

Liesel opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out as she notices everyone's red eyes and tired expressions.

She manages nothing, and ultimately shakes her head weakly, refusing Trombone's offer as she gets up to leave.

In the hallway outside the room, she leans against the wall, listening to the vague murmurs from inside.

*sigh* What do we do now?

Paola's gone, and so is our performance fee.

We were counting on this Championship to get our name out there and secure new gigs, but now it's going to be nearly impossible...

We need cash to rent our rehearsal space, for instrument maintenance, and food isn't free either.

Paola didn't have much saved. She shared whatever she had with us...

Let's pool what we have, I think we can manage another ten to fifteen days or so.

But who will conduct us now that Paola's gone? How are we going to perform without her?

How did she even...? That Bellone Lupo, why did he hurt our Paola?

It just makes no sense. What does his mafia have to do with us?

Maybe they thought she was in someone's way?

Or did we break one of their rules by taking gigs here?

Who knows?! The Siracusan gangsters are a ruthless bunch.

City hall says investigations are ongoing... but who knows if they'll actually go anywhere.

What can we even hope for? This city is still Siracusa, after all. I think they're just pretending to exercise the law.

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

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

Don't be rash. If they could murder Paola just like that, I'm sure they could end our lives just as easily.

We all came from Leithanien. Could it be... they're after Leithanians...?

...Surely not...

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?

What if I find the truth, and it's an answer the orchestra, or I, can't bear to hear?

She hates herself for doubting them.

She hates how her first reaction upon hearing 'Famiglia Bellone' and 'detained', was not to defend them, but to freeze as she recalled those towering horns.

Wh-What should I do...?

Paola...

Daughter of mine, our orchestra wouldn't be what it is today without you. I'm so thankful.

Yes, I'll always be with you, and the rest of the orchestra needs you too.

Liesel, my girl, my pride and joy...

Someday, you will stand on the stage in my stead.

—No, not just for me. It has never been for me.

One day, you will become the best conductor in Nuova Volsinii, no, all of Siracusa.

The wind seems to have stopped.

Liesel slowly but surely drags her heavy feet into the building.

S-So you're saying...

Timpani didn't hit you, and...

Struck these two Columbian businessmen instead?!

Ugh...

That's right.

Well, I got hit too, actually...

But hey, old man. You got a bum leg, but your arms pack a punch!

Damn straight! I'm a first-rate percussionist, you bet I'm good at hitting things!

If only that Columbian fatass didn't trip and eat your second jab, huh.

Ahem.

So here's the situation: We got a call about four troublemakers on the street, and then it turned into a fight between six.

After some questioning, we determined these two Columbian gentlemen in the Bellone Aldor Hall Hotel were fighting with mafio—uh, I mean with the hotel staff.

The staff had asked the Columbian men to step outside, but once they were on the street, the businessmen suddenly became violent.

Meanwhile, these two members of the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra tried to mediate the fight, but ended up involving themselves in the scuffle.

Yup, it's all that fatso's fault. He's drunk, and was harassing our receptionist—

H-Harassing?! Not at all!

I was just a paying guest in the hotel when suddenly I took a hit... Mark my words, I'm not done with you just yet!

Hah, haven't had enough?

You were the ones who stumbled into this lobby drunk, yelling 'Why should I line up?! Get me the biggest most mafia-style room!'

'Mafia-style?' What were you getting at, throwing words like that around a legitimate business establishment?

You scared off the guests who were trying to check in! You're acting like that's no big deal?

Exactly! Even from the entrance, we clearly saw how you scared the receptionist to tears!

(Whispering) Hey, zip it!

Bassoon pinches Timpani hard, who yelps and looks up to see Liesel's ashen expression.

Um, sorry, Liesel... You shouldn't have been called out here at this hour...

Um, all of us have you listed as our emergency contact... Paola told us to... so...

Ugh, it's my fault! I should've stopped him!

Liesel, say something... The silence is scaring me...

So the two of you... helped someone who didn't need your help in the first place?

Huh? Err... um, th-that seems to be the case, yeah...

Liesel is rendered speechless as she looks at both pairs of Bellone mobsters and Columbian businessmen.

In the middle, Timpani and Bassoon are huddling in fear like fowlbeasts caught in the rain, their pitiful gazes aimed at Liesel.

When was it...?

When was the last time I saw something so absurd...?

At the pier, faced with Paola's invitation, Timpani shook his head in confusion, and ignored the two to resume his hammering.

With his rhythmic hammering in the background, Liesel saw Paola suddenly straighten herself and her collar.

Foreman, sir. I'd like to resign on this gentleman's behalf.

From today onwards, he will no longer be able to hammer for you, for he shall join me in exploring the beautiful possibilities in the world of music.

Now then, arrivederci, my good foreman.

Huh?

—No, wait, what?!

Resign? Goodbye...? Who said he could go?

What, he can't?

O-Of course not! It's day labor, but he's not even done yet, and you want to take him away? It'll slow us down!

Oh! I see.

Is this enough, then? Go hire some other—go find another master artisan like Timpani here, and you won't fall behind schedule!

But...

The foreman was clearly shocked by Paola's actions. Her words stunned Timpani.

Behind Paola was Liesel, tugging on her mother's sleeve with an expression both amused and annoyed.

(Whispering) Paola, that's supposed to feed us for a whole week.

Huh? Really!

Everyone stayed awkwardly still for a moment, before the foreman quickly grabbed the florin from her, as if afraid she'd change her mind.

Hey, you over there, go find another worker for me—

The foreman turned to yell, and left the trio, depriving Timpani of a chance to respond.

...Huh?

*Sigh*.

I'm sorry, Liesel... maybe you should manage the money from now on.

And now—We three will busk on the street! I'm sure we can earn back enough for tonight's dinner!

The fiery sunset clouds from that day come back to life inside Liesel's mind.

The dumbfounded Timpani, the satisfied and smiling Paola, and her resigned self shaking her head were all bathed in a warm sunset glow, in the shade of a beautiful future.

...Pfft.

Wow, our whole family's so silly.

Paola, Timpani, Bassoon, Trombone, everyone... and even me. I'm the biggest fool of us all.

How could I have suspected my own family...? There's no way anyone would do anything like that.

It's alright, Liesel! I did what I did, and I'll pay the price. So don't worry your little head over this!

It's just a few days behind bars, probably. I'm used to skipping meals.

Can you start a beat, Timpani? Any rhythm is fine, just one you like.

What...?

Timpani's bold declaration to pay the price for his actions is interrupted by Liesel's sudden request.

He exchanges a glance with Bassoon, and even meets eyes with the Bellone mobsters and Columbian businessmen.

But the undeniable authority in her voice sends Timpani's hand involuntarily tapping on a metal bar.

With his rhythmic tapping in the background, Liesel straightens her back as well as her collar, looking toward the Columbian businessman.

Ahem! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Liesel, the leader of the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra.

We are the finest orchestra in all of Nuova Volsinii, which I'm sure you can tell from the excellent live performance by my timpani player, yes?

I should also mention we have a wonderful bassoon player in our midst, but I regret we do not have the equipment to offer a demonstration right now.

Alright, now that the introductions are out of the way—firstly, I would like to express my sincerest apologies for today's incident.

I cannot make decisions on their behalf, but I will take responsibility for my group. It is an undeniable fact one of my men hit you, and I am deeply sorry for it.

You are a businessman from faraway Columbia, yes? The high-end Piazza Parasota you've invested in is about to open in the city.

I think you chose the city for a good reason: its potential, order, and future cultural atmosphere.

Now, I'm not trying to excuse this unfortunate misunderstanding between your party and mine, but I'd like to offer something valuable in exchange for your forgiveness—a performance.

We, the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra, will provide a free and exclusive performance for the Piazza Parasota's opening ceremony.

E-Exclusive, you say?

Yes. Give us a time and we'll be there, performing a complete lineup of classical pieces of theater-grade quality—lighting and stage control included.

The conductor will be me, daughter of Paola Memminger. I will not fall short of her standards, for she personally trained me, and I am her pride.

Even if you are not satisfied with our performance, you will gain some buzz from the public either way, and won't take a loss, even if you decide not to hire us again.

But if you find us valuable—then I imagine you'd love to make Piazza Parasota the very first high-end shopping mall with a resident orchestra.

Of course, all this is to make one thing clear: This city only has a single orchestra worth investing in, and that's us.

Um, you know, boss... this sounds... pretty good?

It does seem like a good deal.

Hold up! How about figuring out who's actually in the wrong?

Well... this young lady has already taken the blame, so what else is there to discuss?

It's not like we meant to cause a ruckus...

Hmph.

Eek!

What do you gentlemen think?

Alright! You'll arrange everything that needs arranging, and we'll have your orchestra at the opening. However—

We are a high-end mall, after all... I do hope you won't disappoint.

Of course.

Next to the Columbian businessmen, Timpani and Bassoon are still as statues.

Only when the police officer waves them away do they both mutter something as if just jolted awake.

Liesel... you were the spitting image of Paola back there.

No, even more... uh, how do I put it? More Paola than Paola ever was!

I'm my Mama's daughter after all.

I'm Liesel Memminger of the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra.

In the dressing room backstage, Liesel is seated, surrounded by the joyful sound of her orchestra chatting.

Next to her is a stack of slightly yellowed scores—Paola's untitled quartet, with some edits noted in the corners.

Meanwhile, Paola's favorite composition has just won a standing ovation from the entire audience on the Columbians' magnificent stage.

Liesel runs her hand over the slightly faded ink, then stands up to face the orchestra.

Thank you all for staying.

I know... these past few days have been difficult, and stupid, but we held our concert, and we'll hold many more.

By Paola's will, in the name of the Schwarzervorhang Orchestra.

So, there is something I must tell you...

On the day of the incident, I saw Paola's murderer.

I'll find him somehow, and the law will punish him.

He... wasn't a Lupo—So probably not a Bellone.

It was a Caprinae I saw.