Act 1.

　　“You want to hear more of my… screams?”

　　“It means exactly what I said. Does that require further explanation?”

　　The man frowned in annoyance. After a moment, he tore his gaze away from Hwani’s wide, round eyes, breaking their fierce stare, and waved a gloved hand dismissively.

　　“Good grief, don’t look at me like a puppy. Fine. I’ll explain a little more.”

　　“O-Okay.”

　　“Didn’t you scream during that lighting accident earlier? As it happens, I’m currently composing a piece, and the moment I heard your scream, I had a feeling it would be crucial. That’s why I want to invite you to my home.”

　　Ezio continued his explanation, grumbling.

　　Still unable to grasp the true meaning behind his words, Hwani merely blinked. But since they came from a musician she revered like a god, she desperately tried to make sense of them, steadying her voice before it could rise.

　　“Then, d-does that mean… you liked my voice?”

　　Ezio’s expression turned somewhat cold as he listened. He looked down at Hwani intently before abruptly turning his head away.

　　“Well, if that’s how you take it, I suppose you could say that.”

　　Good heavens. Heavens above!

　　Even on her way home, Hwani remained completely dazed, unable to believe it.

　　Could something like this truly happen in reality? Was it a gift bestowed upon her by the angel of music? Or perhaps bait cast by the devil of song to test her?

　　Ezio had invited her to his home. That genius composer had not invited Ginevra, the leading lady who had poured her heart into playing the Fairy Queen, but her—a mere chorus singer. Ambiguous as his phrasing had been, he had clearly added the condition that he “liked her voice.”

　　Though it nagged at her that the catalyst happened to be the scream she let out during the accident, Hwani felt so buoyant that she took even that in a positive light. Normally, her singing was buried in the chorus and went unnoticed. Today’s scream, on the other hand, had been entirely her own solo, hadn’t it?

　　“In any case, I would like you to come as soon as possible—tomorrow, without delay. I’ve written my address here, so find your way there on your own.”

　　In a way, it was a rude invitation. For a man to invite a woman to his home—and a man of such great renown, no less—without even sending a carriage for her.

　　Yet Hwani didn’t even mind that. Propriety between a man and a woman aside, she was merely a low-ranking chorus member, while he was the darling of the music world. Even if Ezio had told her to crawl all the way to his house, she would have simply accepted it.

　　What was far more unbelievable was that the card bearing the home address of Ezio, the man she so deeply admired, was nestled against her chest right now.

　　Standing before her tenement, Hwani took out the card with the address once more. Penned in a practiced hand, the address pointed to a familiar, affluent neighborhood—exactly the kind of place where someone of Ezio’s renown would live.

　　As that sank in, reality came rushing back.

　　Hwani swallowed hard and slipped the card back inside her clothes. Telling herself to get inside first, she climbed the worn stairs.

　　Even within the cramped tenement, she lived on the top floor beneath the attic. She knocked before opening the door, and was met immediately by the smell of stale dust.

　　“Mother, Sister, I’m home.”

　　From within came the familiar sound of ragged coughing. Her sister, who had been curled up on a cramped bed, scrambled to her feet and came over.

　　“Welcome back, Hwani. Did the performance go well?”

　　“Yes. Thanks to you.”

　　Deciding to tell her about the accident later, Hwani quickly offered a smile. Her sister smiled in relief at her words, then walked over to the fireplace and ladled soup from a pot into a bowl.

　　“Sit down and have some dinner. I’m sorry I couldn’t go, especially on opening day.”

　　“Don’t be. You’re busy, and it wasn’t even that big of a role anyway. How was your day?”

　　“Work at the laundry is always the same. Ah, bleach splattered on this, so now it has a pattern.”

　　Her sister chuckled and pointed to the apron hanging on the wall. Spotting the bright white stain, Hwani felt a pang of bitterness as she sat at the table. She lifted her spoon and ate the soup, but it was so thin and watery that she could barely taste anything.

　　“Please be careful not to hurt your hands. It would be awful if you got burned or something.”

　　Even though she was the one who had nearly been crushed to death by a chandelier today, Hwani meant every word. She mumbled as she forced herself to gnaw on the stale bread.

　　“I always feel so bad, sister. You work so hard at the laundry, while I’m just here trying to sing.”

　　“Don’t worry about that for a second. You’re pretty, and you sing so well, so why let that talent go to waste? Here, drink some water so you don’t choke.”

　　Her sister handed her a glass of water, joking that a singer’s voice was her livelihood. She looked at Hwani with pity.

　　“If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry. You stretch your chorus salary just to help cover our living expenses, so you can’t even take a single lesson, and all you do is struggle. Everyone else takes lessons from expensive teachers before going to auditions…”

　　Hwani remained silent.

　　Her sister was right. After setting aside the money to help cover living expenses, Hwani was left with only a few pennies. It was far too little to afford lessons, barely enough to buy sheet music and attend performances by Ezio, whom she truly adored.

　　Money was such a curse. Just as Hwani was dwelling on the bitter reality, a hacking cough came from the bed once more.

　　Hwani glanced in that direction and lowered her voice.

　　“Mother’s cold is really dragging on. She’s still coughing.”

　　“I had the doctor look at her today, and he said it isn’t a cold. He said the dust is triggering these fits.”

　　As Hwani set down her spoon, her sister continued.

　　“He said there’s no helping it. She’s weak to begin with, and the conditions at home are terrible. He told me she either needs to move somewhere else to recuperate or take some new medication.”

　　“Move somewhere else? You mean move to a new house?”

　　“Yes. A place with large windows and clean air. But if we had the money for that, would we still be living like this? And the medicine is outrageously expensive too.”

　　Her sister shook her head in disbelief.

　　“When I told him that was completely out of the question, he told me to at least open the windows wide morning and night. Starting tomorrow, I plan to air out the room before leaving for work.”

　　Resting her chin in her hand, her sister let out a sigh.

　　Hwani picked at her food, biting the tip of her spoon. Just moments ago, she had felt as though she were floating on air. Yet the instant she was confronted with her family’s wretched circumstances, the illusion shattered.

　　A mere chorus singer in such dire straits. Under the crushing weight of poverty, she might have to quit the theater at any moment to work at the laundry. To think that he liked the voice of someone like her… could there have been some kind of mistake…?

　　Her sister spoke, as if to snap Hwani out of her thoughts.

　　“Still, Hwani, you don’t need to worry. I’ll take good care of Mother somehow, so you just focus on your performance. You said you even have a few lines this time, didn’t you?”

　　Hwani’s shoulders jerked at those words. Desperate to return her sister’s smile, she quickly forced one.

　　“Y-yeah. I have to work hard so I can get a bigger role next time.”

　　A bigger role…

　　 A bigger role. A leading role like Ginevra’s.

　　Naturally, her thoughts began to whirl. The face of the handsome man she had met earlier came to mind.

　　Sister, to tell the truth, there was an accident during today’s performance, and the composer invited me to his house after hearing my scream. Ezio da Ponte, the very man I’ve admired so much…

　　Hwani swallowed back the words that kept rising in her throat. Though she had always been completely honest with her family about everything, she found it oddly difficult to confide in them about this. Perhaps it was because the summons itself had felt so secretive and suspicious.

　　But…

　　Hwani pressed a hand firmly against her chest, where the address was hidden. The scrap of paper rustled.

　　Maybe, just maybe, this is a great opportunity.

　　Even if the invitation offered no real advantage to her as a singer, it was a chance to speak one-on-one with a musician she had long respected. There would surely be something to gain from it.

　　Hwani finally clenched her fist against her chest. Pushing her empty soup bowl forward, she spoke with determination.

　　“Um… Sister. It’s a matinee tomorrow, but I think I’ll be home late. I have plans in the evening…”

　　“Really? All right. I’ll let Mother know too.”

　　Ezio had distinctly told Hwani that he liked her scream, and that if he had a hand in it, it would become a masterpiece.

　　If only to discover what those words meant, Hwani had no choice but to accept his invitation.

* * *

　　After finishing the matinee without incident, Hwani quickly left the theater. To save on carriage fare, she walked as far as she could toward the address Ezio had given her.

　　The affluent neighborhood she arrived at was entirely different from the working-class streets where she lived. At the sight of the wide avenues lined with towering, ornate walls, her mouth fell open in spite of herself. Frantically, she began checking the nameplates. Only after wandering for quite some time did she finally find the right house.

　　The sun had already set, cloaking everything in dusk. Standing before the main gate, Hwani felt her mouth go bone-dry. After a moment, she gathered her courage and pulled the cord, and the bell chimed with an exceptionally beautiful tone.

　　“Coming!”

　　For a house so large and grand, Hwani had expected a maid or a butler to answer, but she was taken by surprise the moment the door opened. The boy she had seen yesterday poked his head out to greet her.

　　“Oh, you’re right on time. Hello.”

　　“Ah, hello.”

　　He gestured for her to come in, and Hwani stepped inside hesitantly.

　　As befits a famous composer, the residence was by no means small. A mansion resembling a flattened mushroom came into view.