Chapter 77
“The Crown Princess herself is going to perform?”
“Shh! Quiet!”
After Diana Pierce exited the stage, there was a short intermission.
Normally, even if they wanted to share their impressions, the nobles would wait until the performance ended out of respect for concert etiquette.
But this time, it seemed hard for them to hold back.
Countless voices swirled together, sharply shaking the air of the theater.
“Being a guest and taking the stage are two entirely different matters.”
“Obviously.”
Their anticipation must be beyond imagination.
If Elize truly appeared and performed, it would be not only a tremendous honor, but also something to boast about for generations to come.
It would be like saying:
“I once watched Maurizio Pollini perform live while he was still alive.”
He had planned to hold a concert in Korea during his lifetime,
But it was canceled due to health reasons.
In the end, he passed away without ever stepping foot in Korea.
A truly unfortunate event.
The passing of a giant.
“I always dreamed of hearing Pollini play live too, but I never got the chance.”
But if I had gotten to hear him,
It would have been a story I could bring up forever to anyone I met.
Pollini is the Michael Jackson and John Lennon of the piano world.
Not to compare them directly, but in terms of stature—that’s the level we’re talking about.
To witness their performance itself is an accomplishment.
It’s not like I’m the one performing—just listening—and yet it’s considered an achievement?
Sounds absurd, but it’s true.
The same goes for this situation.
Elize isn’t even a professional performer, and even if she wanted to, reality would hold her back.
She’s the Crown Princess.
Abandoning one’s duty is unforgivable even in modern times, let alone in another world.
So the chance to hear her perform in person might very well be the last.
If this isn’t an achievement, what is?
And meanwhile—
“I’d heard rumors of some connection with the imperial family…”
“I heard from my father. That Professor Anton Tilburg is secretly being sponsored by His Highness the Prince and Her Highness the Crown Princess…”
“So it was true.”
“Isn’t the professor more amazing than we thought?”
I began to feel the sharp gazes of the students who were hiding behind the stage, staring at me.
And for some reason, their murmured conversations pierced my ears clearly.
“This is a top secret, but my friend’s friend, the second son of Baron Sebas, accidentally entered the Imperial Palace and saw Professor Anton Tilburg meeting with the Crown Princess.”
“Gasp!”
“Not once, but three times.”
“Oooh!”
“And apparently, they’ve even been exchanging personal letters since then.”
“Holy crap!”
That last exclamation probably wasn’t meant for others.
More like “What kind of maniacs are these?”
Even with members of the imperial family sitting right inside the theater, they were blurting out gossip like it was nothing.
Thank goodness the box seats are isolated from the rest of the theater.
Otherwise, this celebration might have turned into a bloodbath.
But seriously, how did that Baron Sebas’s son—or nephew—know that I’d met with Elize?
The one who managed to calm things down was an unexpected figure.
Azbella Viviant, who had been somewhere among the crowd, adjusted her posture dramatically and spoke.
“The conduct of students reflects the face of the academy.”
“…”
She wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, but everyone nearby awkwardly lowered their heads.
And then, Beatrice Wendelin, seated beside her, added,
“Please don’t disgrace the reputation our professors have built. I hate people who tarnish their family name the most.”
Her tone was a little more blunt than Azbella’s.
She wasn’t pointing fingers, but the target was clear.
Everyone here.
It meant: don’t insult me, my professor, or the imperial family with useless rumors.
Also, think about how that behavior might come back to bite you.
Gossiping is fun—but it comes with responsibility.
If you can’t handle it, best keep your mouth shut.
By the way, Beatrice seems to have grown more combative after the incident with her brother, Dirk Wendelin.
Perhaps it’s the voice of experience.
“Hating those who disgrace the family name,” she said.
Sounds like she’s carrying a lot inside.
Erdi Villette, who teaches her, hasn’t said anything about her lately, so I’ll just watch for now.
Anyway.
Their subtle rebuke quickly calmed the surrounding atmosphere.
And whether it was coincidence or fate—
Just then, we received word that Elize was ready.
“Sorry for the wait. I was changing outfits.”
“It’s fine…”
As soon as I saw Elize walking slowly from behind the curtain, I was at a loss for words.
The hem of her dress swayed elegantly in a vintage fashion.
A deep navy hue blended with silver, making me feel as though I were watching the motion of waves.
Her flowing black hair over delicate shoulders, and her blazing red eyes, gave her an aura both noble and graceful.
Her dazzling appearance honestly evoked awe.
It was like she was proving what happens when someone of the Crown Princess’s status decides to dress up properly.
Her physical presence was overwhelming.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Ah.”
But it wasn’t polite to just stare blankly, so I quickly turned my head and escorted her.
“I look forward to today.”
Just before stepping onto the stage, Elize added in a gentle tone,
“Please say you look forward to it for me too.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Good.”
…What was that?
Are you the type to get more motivated when someone says things like that?
As if confirming my guess, her expression looked noticeably more at ease than before.
Soon after,
Elize nodded, signaling that she was ready.
Victor Kosolin and I stood on either side and opened the curtain.
With the moonlight still gently illuminating the stage, she walked forward, step by step.
***
The moment Elize stepped out of the shadows and her figure was revealed, the audience began rising from their seats in reverent applause.
At most concerts, the performer bows first, then sits at the piano.
And the cheers come after the performance is over.
But this was different.
No one would dare sit back and mutter, “Let’s see what you’ve got,” when the Crown Princess of the Empire herself is taking the stage.
As she gracefully walked toward the piano under the sound of applause,
Even the expression of Therese, who had been waiting in the box seat, was tinged with anticipation.
Her eyes sparkled.
Her hands were clasped together, as if in prayer.
“Hm?”
Luhan Flovitz glanced at Therese with mild surprise.
“Didn’t you used to hate the piano? I still vividly remember how much you loathed it.”
“You don’t know anything,” Therese replied curtly, sticking out her lips.
“I like the piano. And I like my sister.”
Well, to be fair,
There was a time when she couldn’t stand either.
No denying that.
Luhan was probably remembering that time.
But that had been resolved long ago, thanks to Anton Tilburg’s intervention.
The piano sounds that tormented her every dawn had stopped,
And her sister had begun dedicating herself to her duties.
Casting a pointed glance across the Emperor at Luhan, Therese turned her head forward again,
Waiting for the music her sister once played just for her.
—
The introduction rang out like the beginning of a gentle tale.
Emotions that had been lying dormant slowly awakened and stirred.
The soft melody created by Elize’s right hand was securely embraced by the rhythm of her left.
Every touch was deliberate, each pedal press well-placed.
The clear, unblurred notes spread warmly through the audience, as though her breath had taken shape in sound.
This was for Elize.
The melody grew steadily stronger and more sorrowful.
The unbroken notes, played with restrained legato, echoed heavily in one’s heart.
Love and loss.
And regret.
The tone at her fingertips was exquisitely beautiful, yet carried an undertow of turbulence.
Clearly,
She was pouring out all the emotion from deep within her.
It wasn’t overdone.
But the sound of the piano transcended mere instrumentation, resonating like a genuine voice.
“Was Elize always this skilled?”
There’s something I always emphasize:
Put your emotion into it.
Don’t just strike the keys—make it sing.
It sounds easy but is incredibly difficult to master.
Emotion, by its nature, is a complex thing.
Too little and it becomes flat, too much and it feels chaotic.
The best case is when the performer delivers exactly what they intended, no more, no less.
Achieving that in a short time is impossible.
It’s a technique reserved for masters.
It’s like martial artists controlling their internal energy—delicately unleashing their power.
If you can do that at will, you’re practically superhuman.
So if a performer is delivering music at that level—a superhuman state,
There’s only one reason.
They understand the piece perfectly, perhaps even more than perfectly.
‘Für Elise’ is her favorite piece.
She didn’t have to say it—I could tell.
It was composed solely for her.
And she’s currently under the effects of a memory potion.
She already loved the piece,
And now she has a spoonful of confidence added on top.
When love and self-belief combine, nothing can stop it.
This ‘Für Elise’ is Elize herself.
She has become one with her music.
Not mere understanding—perhaps even divine possession, or spiritual trance.
Though she is simply playing the keys,
It feels like she is speaking through them.
Through the piano,
The gentle melodies convey warmth and longing.
The notes that occasionally strike with force express yearning,
Like someone baring their soul,
Revealing their innermost feelings.
The audience held their breath as they listened.
Each brush of her fingers across the keys turned the flowing melody into a story.
The story became memory, and the memory became a lingering trace.
In the center of that stormy stage,
Her presence resembled a tree swaying in a tempest.
It was no longer clear what was intention or instinct.
She had cast aside the gaze and noise of the world,
And now breathed only through the music itself.
A trance.
“I never imagined I’d see Elize like this in my life.”
Unbelievable.
Sure, the potion can’t be ignored, but
It was clear she had poured her heart into the piano until now.
So that confidence must have had a real foundation.
I regret ever calling her wish to perform a march “greedy.”
How could someone like this have been so unsure of herself?
She must have felt crushing pressure to avoid even a single mistake.
However,
Caution is necessary.
Yes, Elize had become one with the piece and was showing a breathtaking performance,
But extreme immersion means blocking out external stimuli.
That includes herself.
She can no longer control herself.
“If someone breaks that trance now—”
It’s over.
If you recklessly wake someone from such a state, their internal energy could backfire.
That’s exactly the situation Elize is in.
The number one thing to avoid in a concert hall:
Phone ringtones. And coughing.
The latter is a bodily function, so understandable,
But the former is a crime.
It could break the performer’s immersion,
And a broken immersion leads to overwhelming stress.
Why am I thinking of this all of a sudden?
Is it because her performance is too perfect?
Out of the dozens of recitals I’ve attended,
I’ve never seen a performance ruined by outside interference.
And yet,
I have a terrible feeling right now.
—
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