Act 2.

　　“Goodness, Hwani. Where did you get all this money? The doctor said this new medicine was expensive!”

　　The moment Hwani held out the medicine bottle she had just bought, her older sister looked her up and down, her eyes wide. Hwani gave a bashful smile and opened the paper bag she was cradling in one arm.

　　“Ta-da! I bought some chicken, too. So our family can have a nice, nourishing meal for a change.”

　　“Oh my goodness. Mother, look at this. Hwani bought a whole bunch of things!”

　　Perhaps her older sister’s fuss had given their mother the strength to sit up. She braced herself on her pillow and carefully eased herself upright. The sudden movement set off another harsh coughing fit, so Hwani hurried over to help her.

　　“Mother, don’t strain yourself. Lie back down.”

　　“Isn’t… the show still running?”

　　Hwani smiled ruefully at her mother’s sudden question. It wasn’t time to be paid by the theater yet, so how was this possible?

　　Her sister, who had been staring entranced at the chicken, seemed to snap back to reality and chimed in.

　　“Right. It’s not time for you to be paid yet. Did you get an advance on your pay? Or wait, when you said you had plans tonight… did you find a patron?”

　　“A patron? A nobleman who likes taking newcomers under his wing didn’t make some improper demand of you, did he?”

　　Mother stroked Hwani’s cheek with concern.

　　Hwani trembled slightly at those words. After all, it was a common occurrence in the theater world. Men would take young, pretty, helpless novice singers to keep as mistresses. And the singers, growing accustomed to the pocket money tossed their way, often found themselves unable to break free from their illicit affairs.

　　Thinking of him made Hwani feel a prick of guilt. How on earth could she explain what she had just gone through?

　　But since it wasn’t as if a nobleman or rich man had shown up posing as a patron to demand to sleep with her, she brushed it off with an embarrassed laugh.

　　“No, it’s nothing like that. How could I do something so reckless? I just…”

　　“Just?”

　　“Well… you see.”

　　Hwani hesitated for a moment. Thinking it would be better to be partially honest, she finally spoke the name aloud.

　　“You know Ezio, right? Ezio da Ponte. The composer I like.”

　　“The man whose sheet music you’ve got piled up over there?”

　　Her sister pointed to the cupboard. Hwani nodded in agreement.

　　“Actually, he came as an invited guest on opening night. He said my voice happened to catch his ear and asked for my help in composing a new piece. So I was invited to his home, worked for a little bit, and got paid for my trouble.”

　　“Really? Goodness, he’s a hugely famous composer!”

　　Her sister clapped her hands. Her face lit up with excitement.

　　“So you sing for him? Giving the pitch and things like that?”

　　“Ah… something like that, I suppose…”

　　“Oh my gosh, Hwani, that’s wonderful! He’s the musician you admired so much!”

　　Her sister clasped Hwani’s hands and shook them wildly. Only then did their mother smile, as if relieved.

　　“I’m relieved it wasn’t a patron approaching you just for your looks. If a musician acknowledged your singing, then I won’t worry either. Congratulations, sweetheart.”

　　“Mother…”

　　“Congratulations from me too. So that’s why you bought chicken? I’d better roast it up right away so we can celebrate!”

　　Her sister walked to the kitchen in high spirits. Hwani held her mother’s thin hand and felt awkward.

　　Why did she feel like this? She hadn’t made up a single word. Yet because the crucial truth was hidden, she felt as if she had told a blatant lie.

　　Mom, Sister, the truth is, it wasn’t singing. I was letting him hear my screams…

　　And that, too, while lifting her skirt in front of a strange man and getting spanked on her bottom.

　　Hwani felt her face flush hot as she recalled what had happened in his workshop.

　　The joy of meeting the musician she admired and respected was short-lived, for he had spanked her. His palm was large and broad, his knuckles firm. She remembered how her plump flesh had flinched and trembled every time it felt his touch.

　　She had left the workshop with that searing heat still lingering. She had felt embarrassed all over again when his young apprentice, Camillo, looked at her innocently and asked, “Did your talk go well?”

　　Doubtful she could make the walk back, she had discreetly rubbed her backside through her skirt while boarding a stagecoach. Sitting in the back seat had revived that stinging ache from earlier, forcing her to shift position over and over again.

　　Could something like this truly help with composing? How on earth could anyone compose a wedding march brimming with love out of this?

　　Could it all actually be an excuse?

　　A dark foreboding settled in Hwani’s heart. She wasn’t entirely naive. Through rumors passed around among her colleagues, she had heard about the kinds of perversions that existed in the world. Among them, apparently, were men who derived pleasure from hitting women.

　　So the thought briefly crossed her mind that he might have used composing as a lure merely to beat her.

　　…No, that couldn’t be it.

　　She remembered how Ezio had lunged straight for his sheet music. The look in his eyes could never have been an act. Though he had made a bizarre request, his passion for music was undeniably genuine.

　　Even Hwani herself—hadn’t she often forgotten to eat and sleep when she was immersed in singing? She would lock herself in the rehearsal room, memorizing lines again and again. When she sang, others probably saw a similar look in her eyes.

　　A man crazy about music.

　　Ezio was definitely that kind of man.

　　And Hwani herself…

　　An instrument he happened to acquire.

　　That was evidently how he saw her.

　　She reflected on how he had repeatedly demanded that she scream, even resorting to spanking her in the end. He wasn’t a pervert who simply took pleasure in beating her, but a musician playing over and over to draw sound out of his instrument.

　　An instrument that makes sound when struck. Hwani smiled bitterly at that conclusion. Did that make her a human tambourine or drum?

　　…In any case, I’ve already signed the contract. And I was properly compensated like this.

　　Ezio was truly generous with money. Not only could she buy expensive new medicine, but she could easily afford enough chicken for her family of three. It was a vast sum compared to her meager troupe salary and her pitiful performance pay.

　　“The chicken’s done! Mom, Hwani, come eat.”

　　Right on cue, her sister placed the dish on the table. Smelling the savory roast chicken, Mother seemed to regain her appetite for the first time in a while. She pushed off the headboard to stand up.

　　“Let’s go, Hwani. I feel so guilty letting my youngest treat us to something like this when I can’t even go to work because I’m sick.”

　　“What are you talking about? Mother, just focus on eating well and getting better. Now that I bought new medicine, your cough will clear right up.”

　　Hwani helped her mother to the table, then quickly reached for the new medicine bottle to give her the dose before the meal.

　　In her haste, the ointment jar that had been thrown in for free tumbled to the floor and rolled away. Spotting it, her sister asked in confusion,

　　“What’s that? What’s with the ointment?”

　　Hwani quickly picked up the jar, hid it out of sight, and smiled.

　　“M-My hands have been getting chapped lately, so I bought it on the side.”

　　“Ah. Since you perform on stage, you need to take care of yourself. Hurry and eat. It roasted up beautifully.”

　　Hwani shoved the ointment into her pocket and headed to the table.

　　She couldn’t possibly tell them the truth. Not that she had bought this chicken after being spanked on her bottom, and not that she had gotten the ointment to put on her bruises.

　　Still, it was a bountiful spread for the first time in a very long while. A rare healthy color flushed the faces of her sick mother and her struggling sister. Watching them, Hwani swallowed hard and dropped her gaze.

　　It’s fine. It’s fine. Where else would I earn so much money if not through an opportunity like this?

　　I just need to endure it until the composition is finished. When that time comes, this strange contract will end too.

　　Ow.

　　A little pain in her bottom when sitting down was something she could easily bear.

* * *

　　Because matinee and evening performances of The Fairy Queen’s Love Letter alternated, Hwani and Ezio’s meetings naturally took place every other day.

　　Two days later, after finishing her matinee performance, Hwani dropped by her home briefly before heading to Ezio’s house. Thanks to her “compensation,” her pockets were well lined, so she could take a stagecoach this time.

　　Once again, she was guided to the workshop by the apprentice boy.

　　Today, Ezio was sitting at his desk instead of the piano, wrestling with sheet music. Even after Hwani stepped inside, he remained so absorbed that he didn’t notice her.

　　“Um… Excuse me…”

　　In the end, Hwani gave up trying to speak to him and sat awkwardly on the sofa. The atmosphere made it clear that she shouldn’t disturb him. She held her breath, intending to at least watch him compose.

　　With one hand over his mouth, he was lost in anguish. He looked as dramatic as an actor playing a grief-stricken hero. Even the bright silver hair over his forehead was artfully tousled.

　　Hwani would have fallen for him because of his music even if he had been a hideous dwarf, but Ezio was in fact renowned for his looks as well.

　　Even the prima donna Ginevra had deeply admired this handsome young genius composer. Hwani had only read about it in magazine articles, but it was said that whenever he was invited to perform at a salon, noble ladies would sigh in admiration.

　　Just being able to see someone like him this close might make this contract worthwhile in itself.

　　Her heart pounded at the thought of the bizarre work that lay ahead. Hwani tried to compose herself and picked up a sheet of music that had fallen at her feet.

　　People usually expect a genius to turn a sudden flash of inspiration into a finished piece in a single stroke, but Ezio didn’t seem to work that way. Endless trial and error was laid bare in the chaotic tangle of musical notes.

　　Just looking at it made her realize how truly dedicated he was to his music.