The boy led the way. As they crossed the path before the garden, illuminated by the crystalline glow of low lamps, Hwani finally mustered the courage to speak first.

　　“Excuse me, um…”

　　Unsure of how to address him, she trailed off. The boy caught on and looked back at her.

　　“I’m Camillo.”

　　“Well then, Master Camillo. Um, is your master… that is, is Mr. Ezio inside right now?”

　　She had arrived in time for dinner without a set plan, but it was entirely possible the master of the house had dinner plans with someone else and might return late. She asked just in case, and the boy nodded.

　　“Yes. He’s been in his workshop all day. He even sent me on an errand to deliver a petition to His Imperial Majesty begging for a slight extension on his deadline.”

　　“H-His Imperial Majesty?”

　　At the mention of such an intimidating figure, Hwani nearly jumped out of her skin. The boy, however, merely nodded, as if it were nothing remarkable.

　　“Yes. He’s having a terrible time with an extremely difficult commission right now. But what else would you expect? How could someone who’s never had a decent romance write a love song? People around him suggested he at least visit a place with showgirls, but he swore he’d rather die than do that.”

　　Those hardly sounded like words that should come from a young boy’s mouth. While Hwani was still bewildered, they passed through the garden and entered the mansion.

　　With gleaming, immaculate floors and ornate paintings and sculptures adorning the walls, the mansion was decorated like an opulent theater. Feeling as though she had been thrown into it all alone, Hwani grew increasingly hesitant with every step.

　　How did I end up in a place like this?

　　Distracted by stray thoughts, she followed, her eyes fixed solely on the boy’s back. Before she knew it, they had made their way down a long hallway deep into the interior, where a door stood directly ahead.

　　Ah.

　　The sound of an instrument.

　　The sound of someone playing drifted from behind the door. Even so, the boy rapped lightly on the wood without the slightest hesitation.

　　It was the faintest knock, but had the person inside heard it? The playing abruptly cut off, and then a voice called out.

　　“Enter.”

　　The boy opened the door. When he motioned with his chin, she understood immediately. It seemed that from here on, only she was permitted inside.

　　As she cautiously stepped forward, the door swung shut behind her with a creak and a bang.

　　Only then could Hwani get a good look at the room.

　　It was a spacious room, reminiscent of a painter’s atelier. One wall had large glass doors facing the garden, their panes now painted in the dark colors of night. Beside them sat a grand piano.

　　In the center stood a long sofa that looked unsuited for entertaining guests, flanked by a desk and bookcases. Sheet music was scattered everywhere in dense clutter. On the opposite wall hung instruments like violins and flutes, within arm’s reach, ready to be played at any moment.

　　In that instant, Hwani forgot all her worries as a wave of awe and delight washed over her. This was the private workshop of the empire’s greatest, the continent’s finest composer. The very cradle where such magnificent music was born!

　　Yet the thrill she felt as a fan was fleeting, quickly giving way to intimidation. Hunching her shoulders, Hwani watched Ezio rise from the piano.

　　“Is it… truly all right for me to intrude upon such a private space?”

　　Naturally, Ezio was not dressed in the overcoat he had worn the day before. Unlike Hwani, who had carefully chosen her best clothes, mindful that she was visiting someone else’s home, he strode over in a simple shirt and trousers.

　　“Of course. Who do you think invited whom?”

　　“Mr. Ezio… you invited me.”

　　“Yes. I invited you here for my work. So don’t just stand there like that; take a seat first.”

　　Even as he spoke, Ezio looked plainly annoyed. Overwhelmed by his imposing presence, Hwani hesitated before finally sinking onto the sofa.

　　The boy named Camillo had mentioned something about a deadline earlier—was that why he was so on edge? Only after he leaned against his desk did Hwani manage to speak.

　　“If it isn’t too rude… may I ask what kind of work you’re doing?”

　　“Ah. I’m about to tell you. Don’t rush me, just listen.”

　　He crossed his arms as he spoke. When Hwani shrank back, intimidated into silence once more, Ezio let out a short sigh and clicked his tongue. Then, in a weary tone, he asked out of nowhere:

　　“Do you read the newspaper often?”

　　Hwani flinched at the sudden question.

　　“Pardon? Just… from time to time…”

　　“And have you heard the news that the Emperor’s younger sister is soon to be wed in a marriage of state?”

　　“Ah, yes. I know about that.”

　　She didn’t need to read the papers to know; rumors were rife on the streets. Word had it that the youngest sister, far younger than the current Emperor, was to become the crown princess of a neighboring country. Endless gossip circulated about which jewels would be exchanged as wedding gifts and which boutique would design the dress.

　　Ezio nodded in confirmation.

　　“She was raised like the most precious treasure in the imperial palace. Moreover, as this marriage of state directly aligns with our empire’s interests, His Majesty is determined to make this union a resounding success.”

　　“Yes, I believe I’ve heard something along those lines.”

　　“Which is why the commission came to me.”

　　“Pardon?”

　　She had asked because the turn in the conversation felt so abrupt, but Ezio only knitted his brows as if annoyed she hadn’t understood something so obvious.

　　“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a momentous wedding. Could they possibly be careless with the march that will echo through that hall?”

　　“Oh… ah!”

　　Only then did Hwani grasp his meaning and nod. Of course. The music for a wedding ceremony was of paramount importance. Even an ordinary bride would choose hers with great care, not to mention the Emperor’s own sister.

　　Ezio pressed firmly against his temples as if his head were aching.

　　“Indeed. I was commissioned to compose the wedding march for the state wedding. Along with an impossibly demanding condition, no less.”

　　“A demanding condition?”

　　Could they have demanded a monstrous number of instruments and a massive choir? As Hwani hazarded a guess, Ezio tapped his fingers irritably against his head.

　　“His Imperial Majesty told me that his sister and the foreign crown prince have only seen portraits of each other and will meet face-to-face for the first time at the wedding, so I must create a march that sparks love at the mere sound of it!”

　　A march that sparked love at the mere sound of it.

　　At such an abstract request, Hwani was utterly dumbfounded. Yet Ezio’s handsome face darkened with growing irritation.

　　“Of course, even I could not defy an imperial command. I also thought it wouldn’t be much of a challenge for a genius such as myself.”

　　He really just called himself a genius out loud.

　　While Hwani fully acknowledged his genius, she hadn’t expected to hear it directly from him. Ezio, however, slammed his hand onto the desk as if none of that mattered.

　　“Yet I have finally admitted it! I am on the verge of defeat with this commission… Even with this genius of mine, not a single fitting musical idea will come to mind!”

　　The sudden impact sent a stack of sheet music tumbling to the floor. Startled, Hwani quickly gathered the scattered sheets. Just before handing them back, she stole a glance at the handwritten score of the composer she deeply admired. A few notes on the staff caught her eye. As a singer herself, she had no trouble imagining the melody.

　　Oh, this is certainly…

　　At the end of the notes were frantic scratches of a pen, as though Ezio himself had found it unacceptable. And even to Hwani, this piece, this music, this melody…

　　It was somewhat lacking.

　　It wasn’t a bad melody. If actually played, it would sound pleasant enough in its own right. But for a piece composed by that Ezio, it was a bit…

　　Ordinary…

　　In a way, it seemed overly sentimental, yet at the same time excessively bogged down with pointless virtuosity.

　　Because Hwani had listened to every single piece of his music, she could evaluate it all the more objectively.

　　This was not up to Ezio’s usual standard. The distinctive individuality he had always displayed was dreadfully diluted, and the emotion no one else could ever imitate had dulled, losing its luster entirely.

　　Perhaps that sentiment showed in Hwani’s unenthusiastic expression, for Ezio glared at her for a moment. He roughly pushed back the silver hair falling across his forehead and pressed her.

　　“Well? It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

　　So suddenly? Flustered, Hwani was at a loss for words. As she hesitated, Ezio shouted even more petulantly.

　　“How could I possibly present a piece like this!”

　　“Y-you’re right! It does seem… like it leaves something to be desired…!”

　　Flustered, Hwani blurted out her honest impression. Just as she realized she might have been far too harsh, Ezio let out a sharp snort and tore the sheet music to shreds.

　　“If you were able to read that, you must know your way around a score. A piece of this caliber could never bear the name Ezio da Ponte.”

　　Amid the fluttering scraps of paper, he spoke with utter solemnity, his face unfairly handsome. Yet that face soon clouded over with profound anguish.

　　“But the deadline is approaching. I cannot postpone it forever.”

　　“Right…”

　　No matter how brilliant a composer he was, when faced with an imperial commission, he was nothing more than a slave to deadlines…

　　Confronted with the bitter reality, Hwani nodded meekly. Overwhelmed by Ezio’s intense presence, she could hardly bring herself to utter a word. He pressed a hand to his forehead and lamented.

　　“And why love in the first place? How on earth am I supposed to express such an irrational emotion?”

　　“But what else would you expect? How could someone who’s never had a decent romance write a love song? People around him suggested he at least visit a place with showgirls, but he swore he’d rather die than do that.”