Chapter 5
“Confess your crime.”
The man spoke, sitting on a luxuriously adorned sofa with his legs crossed.
There wasn’t much publicly known about the prince’s personal life. This was my first time meeting him, but his appearance told me all I needed to know about his character. A muscular build and a rugged face, with a scar near his eyes. His black hair was darker than the abyss, and his red eyes gleamed with a murderous glint. He was the kind of person who communicated through actions, not words.
It was clear now. I thought people were just confused when they said, “The performer is really the prince?” and imagined him as some sickly, elite figure. But this man was a warrior. Definitely a battle enthusiast, probably skilled at hunting as well.
Luhan Flovitz.
He addressed me once more.
“Did you not hear me?”
How should I answer to get out of this cursed place? I had to prove my innocence perfectly while not offending the prince.
“I am but a lowly artist, Your Highness. I neither have the right nor the courage to impersonate you.”
“Impersonate?”
Luhan narrowed his eyes.
“How did you know the reason I summoned you was for impersonation? I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You told me to confess my crime…”
“So, you already think of yourself as a criminal. You must have a guilty conscience.”
I messed up. I should have played dumb. My judgment was wrong. This man is also skilled in verbal sparring.
“You had the nerve to go around using my name.”
Why is this happening? I wanted to retort, “Well, technically, I haven’t admitted to that,” but I held my tongue.
“I am just a performer who conceals his identity on stage. However, it seems that the audience’s imagination has taken things too far. While it was not my intention, I sincerely apologize for causing trouble to Your Highness with such unfounded rumours.”
I pulled out the flyer from my pocket and handed it over. It was the same one we had distributed to the audience, meant to prove my innocence.
The prince fell silent for a moment, his eyes piercing through me as if trying to uncover my true motives. Facing him felt like standing before a tiger.
“Is this a trick?”
“There’s no such thing.”
Even so, his silence persisted for a while, making me nervous. I hurried to add a further explanation.
“An ordinary person, even a noble, wouldn’t dare to think of impersonating Your Highness.”
“That… makes sense.”
Surprisingly, he believed me more easily than I expected.
It was good news that the prince was capable of reason. He uncrossed his legs and called for the guard behind him.
“Ainz.”
It was the same man who had brought me here. I had thought he looked quite intimidating before, but now, standing beside the prince, he seemed as gentle as a lamb.
“What do you think?” the prince asked Ainz.
“From what I’ve heard, this man does not appear to be guilty. Instead, I believe it is the nobles who so recklessly sullied the Royal name who should be held accountable.”
“I think so too.”
They seemed to exchange opinions quite openly. The prince nodded and stood up from his seat. Was he finally going to believe in my innocence?
“By the way, why do you hide your identity?” he asked.
“…I believe that nothing but the music should matter between a performer and the audience.”
“You seem quite confident in your abilities.”
“You flatter me.”
“Now I’m curious about your performance. What could have made those lords throw my name around like that?”
“Excuse me?”
“Follow me.”
With that, he strode out of the reception room with a confident gait. His steps were as commanding and powerful as his appearance.
Eventually, we arrived at a large banquet hall. In the corner sat a grand piano. The prince took a seat, then looked at me and gestured toward the piano.
“Play.”
I was startled, but I didn’t ask any questions. There was no point—he didn’t seem like he was expecting a response.
“Ainz.”
Seeing me hesitate, he called for the guard. Ainz pushed me gently from behind.
“Though it may be embarrassing, allow me to play something for you.”
I took a deep breath and placed my hands on the keys. I decided to perform the piece I was supposed to play at the theatre tonight: Debussy’s Clair de Lune.
As the peaceful melody flowed, the prince sat silently, watching me.
***
“Therese.”
“Yes?”
“Do you hear music coming from somewhere?”
“Are we really talking about this again?”
Therese was used to this by now. Her older sister, Elize, had been making strange remarks like this more frequently. This time, it was worse than yesterday. She wasn’t even surprised anymore when Elize said she was hearing things.
“…I must be going mad too. I hear something.”
“Right? It’s beautiful.”
This was strange. Therese frowned. It was the sound of a piano. But why?
The only piano in the palace was in the banquet hall. It was kept there for special events, but no one ever used it, and there wasn’t anyone in the palace who could play at this level.
‘Who could it be?’
As Therese pondered, Elize suddenly stood up, scanning the area.
“This song!”
Without another word, she sprinted across the garden. Therese, caught off guard, hurried after her.
***
After the performance ended, the silence that followed was overwhelming. The prince, who had been sitting still throughout, finally stirred. Then he muttered a single phrase.
“Well…”
I was terrified of what would come next.
“You’re not nearly as skilled as you think. Absolutely useless. What’s wrong with the nobles in the capital these days? Ainz, escort him out.”
“As you command.”
The guard grabbed my arm.
Was that it?
It felt empty. I was relieved to have survived, but leaving like this left me unsettled. Clair de Lune had done exceptionally well in the capital. The audience had praised it, and I had even been stalked by noble ladies eager to sponsor me.
“May I say one more thing?”
Stubbornness welled up inside me.
I know I can’t please everyone, but no musician in this world could endure hearing their performance called “useless.”
At the very least, the prince was someone I could reason with. His words were harsh, but he seemed rational and reasonable—at least, based on what I’d seen so far.
Surely, he wouldn’t ignore my opinion completely.
“…Speak.”
Everyone has their own preferences. Some enjoy soft, gentle melodies, while others prefer the opposite. To those who dislike a particular type of music, it can seem difficult and dull.
It was like how I felt when I heard Victor Kosolin’s performances.
I had made a poor song choice. Instead of Clair de Lune, I should have chosen something else.
‘Considering the prince’s personality…’
Something grander and more powerful—perhaps an orchestral symphony—might have been more appropriate. Debussy’s lyrical solo piece couldn’t capture his attention, no matter how celebrated it was during the late Romantic period.
“May I play one more piece?”
“Are you trying to disappoint me twice?”
“If you’re still disappointed, you may take my head.”
“Ha!”
He chuckled, seemingly amused by my boldness. But he was intrigued. If I were him, I’d want to hear a performance someone was willing to bet their life on.
The problem was, I only had a piano. Playing a symphony was out of the question, and even if I tried an arrangement, there were limits.
But I wasn’t speaking recklessly.
Chopin’s Polonaise Op. 53.
More commonly known as the Heroic Polonaise.
*T/n: Chopin’s Polonaise Op. 53, commonly known as the Heroic Polonaise, is one of Frédéric Chopin’s most famous compositions for solo piano. Composed in 1842, it is a powerful and dynamic piece characterized by its grandeur and spirited energy.*
As the name suggests, it has a lively, strong rhythm. The elegant and grand Melody, coupled with dramatic dynamics, captivates the listener.
‘However…’
I had only performed this piece a few times in my previous life. Without sheet music, I wouldn’t be able to play the whole thing, and I might even make noticeable mistakes throughout.
Still, there was a reason I was taking this gamble.
I didn’t plan to play the entire seven-minute-long polonaise. Just a brief moment would suffice.
*T/n: 6:27 to be Exact xD.*
From the very first bar, the chromatic ascension brings a sense of exhilaration. Both hands sweep across the keyboard, leading to a climactic crescendo.
As the volume builds, so does the emotional intensity of the listener.
All of this is packed into the intro—the first minute of the piece.
There’s a reason the Heroic Polonaise is considered one of Chopin’s greatest works.
I clasped my trembling hands together. I imagined the sound and etched the score into my mind.
Now, it was time for the real thing.
The performance began.
I relaxed my wrists and pressed the keys with measured movements.
It wasn’t perfect.
There was awkwardness in my expression, and the occasional misstep heightened the tension. But it couldn’t be helped—this was a challenging piece.
Even the great Krystian Zimerman, hailed as a maestro, had his share of missed notes.
The important thing wasn’t to avoid mistakes. It was to maintain the momentum and keep pushing forward.
Music, after all, is about reaching people’s emotions and moving them.
If I could achieve that, it would be a success.
The lively melody filled the banquet hall, and soon, silence returned as quickly as it had left.
—
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