Early the next morning, even earlier than usual, the sound of the piano began to echo from within the villa.
What was different from usual was that the piano sounds seemed choppy and intermittent this time, even the playing technique seemed rudimentary and awkward. Honestly speaking, it was as if a fledgling Magic Apprentice was stuttering incantations.
The reason for this was simple. The one standing in front of the piano and tentatively playing was not Miss Bauman herself, but the mechanical steward wrapped in his eternally unchanged black cape.
Desmond did not sit on Miss Bauman’s performance chair, the reason was clear. His massive weight, which was almost entirely made of crystal, was definitely not something an ordinary chair could bear. The mechanical steward was just standing there conscientiously, his upper body slightly leaning forward, so that his left fingers could just touch the piano keys.
The mechanical fingers made of crystal slowly danced on the piano, pondered for a moment after playing a few notes, and then struck a few more notes. In the aristocratic schools on the Aegean Continent, most of the young humans who first come into contact with the piano also rigidly perform their initial tryouts , and they probably won’t receive any good reviews. But now, the character carrying out this process was a mechanical abomination, making the scene somewhat bizarre.
"Don’t touch my piano anymore!" A scolding filled with anger echoed behind the mechanical steward, Miss Bauman, dressed in her usual simple home garment, stood at the entrance of the studio. "Did I not warn you sternly last time? Do not touch my piano with that hand of yours!"
"So this time I am using my left hand.", The mechanical steward answered respectfully, retreating tactfully from the moment the mistress appeared at the door.
Miss Lich’s anger did not subside at all: "Don’t play word games with me, whether you are really stupid or pretending to be, such things are not allowed to happen again."
"I am truly sorry." The mechanical steward bowed his head a little more.
Perhaps recent interactions had slightly softened Bauman’s attitude. Seeing the consistently respectful expression of her steward, Bauman did not intend to continue to scold him, but spoke in a tone as if talking to herself, "I have said, even if you can read stave notation, and manage to play each melody, each measure according to the score, it is merely your mechanical body functioning normally under the manipulation of magic."
"Such music is fake, I do not want to hear a single note!"
Miss Lich, who said these words with a bad temper, began to slowly walk towards the piano. According to habit, the mechanical steward should have completely left the side of the piano by this time and prepared to withdraw. Bauman didn’t know why she had just explained so much to a vile warrior, it probably had something to do with getting used to having someone to talk to lately. Even though, that someone who can converse with her is just a slightly more sophisticated mechanical abomination.
But what surprised her was that the voice of the mechanical steward was still heard near the piano, as if he had never moved. "Miss Bauman..."
"Your bedroom door was not closed last night. When I was handling things according to the household order, I heard your voice from the room. According to my analysis, it was you making unconscious sounds in your sleep."
Miss Bauman did not speak, just silently stopped her footsteps. She was very curious as to why the mechanical steward had said those things and was even more curious about what he was going to do next. Read full story at novel•fire.net
"If the data I collected at that time is correct, the sound you made in your sleep should be a melody. Specifically, it should be the part you were working on that got interrupted at the bottleneck..."
The villa’s mistress’s expression didn’t change significantly, and she didn’t move a step, as if she hadn’t heard anything.
Desmond’s tone remained unchanged, as if he was making a regular report. "...If you connect it with the melody you were humming in your sleep, it seems it can continue correctly."
Bauman still didn’t say anything, the sunlight coming in from the window did not shake even slightly in her delicate, black crystal glasses.
"Excluding all the errors I might have made during the collection process, the melody you were humming last night should sound ..." Without receiving any stop commands, the mechanical steward not only continued to narrate but actually turned around to face the piano again, striking the first note he had sorted out.
"Get out." Miss Bauman’s voice finally resonated in the room, not in the high tone of anger, but an indifferent tone as if nothing had happened.
The mechanical steward turned his head in surprise, but could not see any violent expressions on his mistress’s face.
"I do not need a crystalline mechanical abomination like you, get out of this studio immediately." Miss Lich’s voice was as cold as the eternal ice at the peak of Tamerlarya.
"But, I haven’t recited the entire melody for you yet..."
Bauman’s suppressed rage finally burst forth. She abruptly stepped forward, raising her hand to point at the door. "This is the master’s command! Get out immediately!"
What happened next took Bauman by surprise once again. The automaton butler flatly disobeyed her command, remaining stubbornly in place. "The piano..."
She didn’t quite catch what this abhorrent creature wanted to say next, yet Bauman didn’t intend on interrupting. Guess it was the first time that this mechanical being has riled her up this much.
Then, within the deafening silence, Desmond’s next words were carriedly clearly into her ears: "I want...to learn to play the piano."
"What did you say?" Bauman smirked as if she’d just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. Her grim expression cracked into a smile - but not a smile of kindness. A sneer of scorn.
The automaton butler maintained its deferential bow. "As you have said, perhaps no matter how hard I try, the music I play on this piano will always be fake--all of it. But...I hope...at least close to real music."
Baoman’s icy sneer became more pronounced : "How amusing. How could an abomination like you, crafted for the sole purpose of slaughter, possibly desire to learn something as refined as the piano?"
As expected, Desmond did not reply with any rebuttal. To her surprise, he instead turned back to the piano, extending a crystalline limb to gently strike the keys. The tune Bauman hummed in her dreams emerged.
This led to another eruption of fury from the woman herself: "Stop!!! A killing machine like you has no right to touch my piano!"
Even amidst Bauman’s furious outcry, the notes continue their dance.
"You have no right to explore any art! You just need to obediently follow orders and reap the lives of your kin on the battlefield!" Bauman cursed the stubborn creature before her. Her insults may have lacked finesse, but in her frustration, they weren’t any less felt. Her words began to sound more like helpless compromise than angry reproof.
Finally, he responded, his playing never faltering. "That’s why...I want to learn to play the piano..." His voice was the same as always, but his determination was clear. "Because I...I don’t want to return to the battlefield anymore."
Bauman found herself standing still. No longer did she possess the urge to halt her strange butler’s musical pursuits.
She did not know whether all abominations would be as peculiar as him. Or maybe, the more advanced ones, being most influenced by their creators’ spells, could behave more like a normal Demon Clan. Bauman consoled herself with this thought.
It wasn’t like she could stop the warrior at the piano by force either, and at this point, she wasn’t particularly inclined to.
Bauman herself detested warfare intensely - whether it was against Aegean invaders or the incessant infighting among the three great continents of the Demon Clan were her eyes no different...?
No matter. Let this mechanical butler do as he wished.
After all, even she, couldn’t sit in front of the piano twenty-four hours a day. If he enjoyed clumsily imitating the piano during her downtime, let him be—it could count as some twisted form of remuneration. And with that excuse, Bauman left her studio.
Behind her, Desmond stood at attention, softly touching the black and white piano keys.
On the wide, grassy plains adorned by several ancient trees shaped like great umbrellas, a few thin clouds floated in the sky. On the distant horizon, where the sky met the earth, the emerging Emperor Polo graced the world with golden light that was intriguingly warm and kind.
"Humphrey! Humphrey!" The fair young witch called out vainly. There was no sight of him anywhere near the trees on the grassland. "Humphrey!"
The witch girl wept helplessly in the wilderness. Though tears blurred her sight countless times, she persisted in shouting and in searching. "Wait... Humphrey..."