Overture.

　　“Hey, what did I tell you? I only drink freshly drawn milk right before the curtain rises. Does this look freshly drawn to you? How many times do I have to repeat myself before it gets through to your head?!”

　　Everyone flinched the moment the furious roar erupted. Today was no exception. The dressing room of the Pasqual Theater would be filled with the prima donna’s booming shouts. Flustered and trembling, the errand boy answered.

　　“I-It’s just that, when I went to the shop, they said this morning’s batch was completely sold out, so in a rush, I brought some other milk…”

　　“Is that shop in front of the theater the only one in existence?! You should have crossed the street to buy it! Why aren’t you running back out this instant?!”

　　Sitting before the dressing table, the woman flung the magazine from her lap at him in a fit of rage. Struck suddenly on the head, the errand boy scrambled out the door, on the verge of tears.

　　Watching the scene unfold from across the room, the chorus members began whispering all at once.

　　“Look at her, throwing another tantrum like a lunatic today.”

　　“Well, it’s opening night, so of course she’s on edge, but it’s not as though the soprano carries the show alone.”

　　“Exactly. Does she think we’re not nervous? My heart feels like it’s in my throat with all the famous people rumored to be in the audience.”

　　Exchanging glances, the chorus members adjusted their costumes. The fairy outfits, with tiny bells stitched to the hem of every skirt, were dreadfully bothersome. After briefly grumbling about the crew’s choice of costumes, they resumed their hushed chatter.

　　“The theater owner bet everything on today’s performance. They say every prominent figure in the arts and every wealthy noble patron was invited. That famous critic, what’s-his-name, some random Duke!”

　　“I heard that long ago. Aren’t they saying Ezio is coming too? You know, the man blessed by angels or sworn to the devil?”

　　At the unexpected mention of a man’s name, the newcomer, who had been wrestling with her stockings, snapped her head up.

　　“Ezio? Who is that?”

　　“You don’t know Ezio?”

　　“Ah, you only just arrived in the capital, so the name must sound unfamiliar. But if you managed to land a job in the chorus here, you must know his work. You know this melody, don’t you? Hm-hm-hm, hm-hm-hm-hm.”

　　Hearing the senior hum, the newcomer let out a gasp of recognition. “Ah!” At that reaction, the senior smiled as if to say, I knew it, and rested her hands on her hips.

　　“There’s no way you wouldn’t know him. He’s the most sought-after composer right now, not just in the music world, but in every salon. And… oh, perfect timing!”

　　Over in the corner, someone parted the dressing curtain and stepped out. It was a woman with long, light-brown hair adorned with leaf ornaments for her fairy role, her long eyelashes dusted with glitter.

　　Just as the newcomer caught her breath at the woman’s striking appearance, noticeable even in a chorus where everyone looked alike, the senior called out to her with easy familiarity.

　　“Come here, Hwani. She says she doesn’t know Ezio. As his devoted fan, why don’t you tell her what kind of person he is?”

　　A sudden spark flared in the woman’s calm eyes.

　　“If you mean Ezio… do you mean Ezio the composer?”

　　“Yes, the very Ezio you adore so much. The Ezio who’s supposedly sitting in the audience today.”

　　The senior teased her.

　　At that, Hwani drew a small breath and launched into an astonishingly rapid explanation.

　　“Ezio. Full name: Ezio da Ponte. Age: twenty-seven. Male. He is currently the most promising figure in the music world. His fame began at the tender age of five during a concert tour where he was hailed as a prodigy. After touring noble households across the realm, he played the imperial organ at nine, and at fourteen, his first piece was staged at an open-air festival. That ballet drew an audience of a thousand over three days and is still performed today under the title The Perfect Pink, but because it’s such an early work, you rarely see the composer himself conduct it anymore.”

　　“Whoa, The Perfect Pink? I saw that back in my hometown!”

　　“After that, he became even more famous for transcribing a melody kept secret by the grand cathedral after hearing it only once. When he reached adulthood at eighteen, he was invited by His Imperial Majesty to serve as a court musician, but he resigned the moment he turned twenty. He later confessed, ‘Institutional life didn’t suit me.’”

　　“A-aha…”

　　“After that, he began life as a full-time composer. His first opera, All Men Are the Same, was an instant hit. Since then, he hasn’t had a single flop. His masterpieces include the operas The Garlic Maiden, The Hero Gilgamesh, and Diego and Narola—those are the three greatest works recognized by fans today. His ballet The Gluttonous Queen is also considered magnificent, though. The occasional symphonies he released, The Pirate and The Mountain Sage, were showered with praise as well, receiving multiple encore performances…”

　　“Stop, stop, Hwani! We know how much you love Ezio, but strain your vocal cords any further, and it will hurt the performance!”

　　The senior waved her hands to cut her off. Only then did Hwani stop, her cheeks flushing red as she cast her gaze downward. The relentless torrent of words vanished as if it had never happened, and she mumbled under her breath.

　　“I’m sorry. She said she didn’t know him, so I wanted to explain properly…”

　　“I-I know more than enough now! In short, he’s an extraordinary composer, right?”

　　The newcomer smoothed things over with a smile. When Hwani nodded enthusiastically, the newcomer chuckled at the unexpected sight.

　　“Hwani, you’re always so quiet backstage. I had no idea you had this side to you. You must be a true fan.”

　　“This girl is completely mad about Ezio’s pieces, even with barely a penny to her name. You never miss a performance, do you?”

　　“Yes. I collect the sheet music too.”

　　With her eyes still fixed on the floor, Hwani answered shyly, silently reproaching herself.

　　How foolish of me, getting carried away and rattling it all off like that.

　　Yet she could hardly help it. A genius who created music more wonderful than anyone else’s—how could she stop her heart from racing whenever his name was uttered? No one in this empire, or across the entire continent, could compose melodies so rich and beautiful.

　　Though she was impoverished and could barely secure a seat in the furthest corner of the theater, Ezio’s music sounded magnificent even from there. How could the arias he composed be filled with such dazzling brilliance? His librettos and structures were always so meticulously crafted that they had never once disappointed an audience.

　　For someone who was merely a member of the theater’s chorus, it might have been a presumptuous wish, but…

　　“Someday… I hope he’ll write an aria for me to sing.”

　　Hwani spoke softly with a bashful smile. The senior chorus member covered her mouth to stifle a laugh at the seemingly bold wish.

　　“That really is a grand ambition. Even our theater’s prima donna, Ginevra, hasn’t collaborated with Ezio yet.”

　　“Besides, isn’t there a rumor that the composer only sees singers as instruments? Maybe you’re better off just staying a fan.”

　　Another chorus member listening nearby chimed in. Startled by the remark, Hwani shook her head.

　　“That’s definitely a malicious rumor! His technical demands are just exceptionally high, so people exaggerate!”

　　She, too, earned her living on the fringes of the stage. She had never expected someone who had reached the pinnacle of this trade to be gentle in private. Even so, hearing his musical achievements distorted by vicious gossip bothered her deeply.

　　“Even if the rehearsal process was arduous, it was surely meant to draw out the singer’s hidden vocal potential. It’s wrong to twist perfectionism into cold-blooded cruelty!”

　　When she protested with uncharacteristic heat, the senior reached out and patted her shoulder to calm her down.

　　“All right, all right. It’s hard to hear the artist you admire being insulted. But Hwani, the performance is right around the corner, so settle your nerves.”

　　Hearing that practiced tone, Hwani finally caught her breath. Though she felt a flicker of dismay at having exposed her naivety, she still did not believe she had said anything wrong.

　　As if reading her thoughts, the senior smiled gently.

　　“Then again, even if you’re only in the chorus now, you have the best voice among us, Hwani. One day, you’ll be able to rise to a lead role.”

　　Just then, a sharp crash echoed from across the room. It seemed the prima donna, Ginevra, had hurled a milk bottle to the floor.

　　“Throw it away! From now on, show some care when preparing something as simple as milk!”

　　“…When that day comes, just don’t turn into a diva as touchy as that. Got it?”

　　In the tense atmosphere, Hwani managed a strained smile and nodded. Ginevra had graduated at the top of her vocal academy and walked a smooth path to stardom without ever knowing obscurity. How could she, a mere bit-part chorus singer, ever compare herself to someone like that? Still, even if she found success later on, she swore she would never become the kind of person who threw tantrums over milk.

　　Having inspected the lead’s makeup, the director finally raised a hand.

　　“All right, The Fairy Queen’s Love Letter! Everyone who’s ready, gather round!”

　　Lifting her chin as if she had ascended an actual throne, Ginevra, today’s Fairy Queen, stepped in front of the director. The supporting cast and chorus members flocked around her.