Ch.105105. The Consoling Pianist

Owen’s grandfather.

Oster Baltani.

Leaving Owen asleep in Illuania’s arms, exhausted as he was, we found ourselves in front of his grave late at night.

There were surprisingly few souls in the Claren Cemetery. Most had fallen into rest, and the evil spirits had fled because of the monsters currently wandering the city.

In front of the grave where he slept.

A soft light spread from the black jewel I was holding, granting a brief morning to the artist who had lived his entire life with the piano.

The figure of a man with an impressive white beard and disheveled hair appeared and slowly opened his eyes.

[Where is this?]

“The cemetery, Oster Baltani. I am Deus Verdi, the necromancer who awakened you.”

Since he wouldn’t know the term ‘spiritmaster’ anyway, I introduced myself simply, and Oster looked himself over.

[Have I failed to reach the land of abundance prepared by Goddess Demeter?]

So he was a believer in Goddess Demeter.

They believed that after death, they could live abundantly in the land prepared by Goddess Demeter.

I had no intention of telling him the truth about the afterlife.

Not wanting to disturb the peace of the dead or confront him with cruel reality, I asked directly.

“Owen Baltani. I have questions about the abilities that boy possesses.”

[Owen…]

Oster recalled his poor grandson with a regretful expression.

[He is truly a pitiful child. He lost his parents at a young age, and though I took him in and raised him, I could only teach him the piano, as that was all I knew.]

“He still follows in your footsteps.”

[Poor boy.]

His expression revealed deep, wrinkled sorrow.

“I heard you comforted and sent off the monsters of Claren.”

[So a Black Mage knows even that?]

Oster had no intention of hiding anything. Though he didn’t seem particularly pleased with me being a Black Mage, he continued speaking.

“Owen wishes to follow what you did. The boy feels obligated to pity the monsters here and send them off.”

[…]

“It’s also necessary work. As monsters overflow in Claren, souls are becoming fearful, turning into evil spirits and harming the city’s people.”

Looking at it this way, it seemed the city of Claren owed quite a debt to the old man before me.

But the old man felt differently.

He saw it as a burden.

[What does that have to do with Owen?]

“…”

[I comforted the monsters of this city because I pitied them and simply because I could.]

Oster looked at his palm. His rough, coarse hands hardly looked like those of a pianist.

[But I don’t want Owen to bear that burden. The monsters are pitiful, but I don’t want my grandson to shoulder this burden.]

“…”

[Do you know why there are so many monsters in this city?]

Oster poured out his thoughts.

[It’s because of the artists gathered in the city. They are like waste products created from the imagination and desires of those artists.]

As I mentioned when creating the vein that devoured Princess Elenoa’s dreams.

Monsters and thought entities are beings created from accumulated wishes and desires.

The wishes and desires of the numerous artists in Claren were mixing together, producing many monsters with excessively bizarre forms.

[Unless this city disappears or the artists leave, those creatures will continue to increase and appear.]

“I suppose so.”

When I easily agreed, Oster gritted his teeth, clenched his fist, and answered.

[I want Owen to break free from these shackles. I don’t want him to waste his life buried under the waste products of other artists.]

It was truly a guardian’s choice.

There was no need for a boy to pour his entire life into this city.

I understood that, but he still hadn’t answered my question.

“What exactly is Owen’s ability?”

[…]

“Every time he plays, monsters come to him. Unless we know exactly what that ability is, Owen will be followed by monsters for the rest of his life.”

Oster let out a heavy sigh. He seemed to think I had some other intention.

[It’s not the kind of talent a Black Mage like you would desire. It’s simply talent as a pianist, passed down from me.]

“…”

[That child is a genius. A piano genius. If there is a god of art, one could truly say it dwells within that child.]

Oster’s voice was filled with sincerity. He was genuinely praising the child’s talent.

[A talent that would instantly surpass someone like me! That’s Owen! I declare it would be a waste for him to spend his time here dealing with the remnants of other artists!]

“Answer me properly. What is the ability that you and Owen are hiding?”

If there was a flaw, it was that it could only be seen when playing the piano.

But being able to see monsters and ghosts is no ordinary ability. Even necromancers cannot see them unless they are powerful evil spirits.

It was identical to the eyes I possess; to put it simply, it was no different from seeing a new world.

But Oster gave an unexpected answer to my question.

[Damn it! I don’t know either!]

As if spilling a secret, Oster clenched his fist and waved it in the air.

[One day suddenly! I could see them! Suddenly they were comforted by my performance and disappeared! I just did it because I could!]

“…”

[I wanted to ask instead! Why could I see them, making me shoulder this duty! And now it’s shackling my grandson’s ankles!]

“I see, I understand.”

There was no falsehood in his outburst. Oster was genuinely upset, not knowing why he had such an ability.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your rest.”

As I was about to put him back to sleep, Oster desperately reached out his hand.

It passed through me, but it was enough to stop my action.

[W-wait! If you’re truly sorry for disturbing me, please grant me one request!]

“…”

[A-a dead man’s request! Please! I won’t ask for anything strange!]

“I have no intention of granting unreasonable requests.”

Since I had disturbed his rest, I was willing to hear him out. If it wasn’t difficult, I might grant it.

[It won’t be difficult! It won’t take long either!]

Oster made his desperate request, and after hearing it all, I nodded, saying it wouldn’t be too difficult.

* * *

The Claren City Hall was bustling with activity every day.

Penniless artists had no one to blame but their own abilities and the environment that made them this way.

But the artists of Claren, who would never admit they lacked talent even on their deathbeds, always came to the city hall to harass the staff.

“Why not me?!”

“Is this how you handle things?!”

“Most of the city is artists! In a city that lives on tourism, is this all the treatment we get?!”

In words, they endlessly elevated their own value, called the mayor foolish, and shouted that the entire city would collapse if they didn’t support the artists.

Especially with the upcoming Artist’s Day, they were demanding better welfare for artists, acting as if they were some kind of martyrs.

“Haah.”

The receptionist felt a throbbing headache coming on. She should quit her job; every year when Artist’s Day approached, these people appeared, squawking as if someone had pressed a button to trigger them.

It was true that Claren had become a tourist city thanks to the artists’ efforts, but now there were too many of them.

In fact, the city hall and mayor would prefer if there were fewer.

Of course, the moment anyone voiced this, they would rise up claiming their artistic freedom was being suppressed.

Not all artists were like this, of course. In fact, these troublemakers made up less than 10% of the city’s total artists.

They just had louder voices.

“Look at this! Look! My painting is at a registered landmark, so why don’t I get anything from it?!”

“That was already a popular place. You should actually be fined for vandalizing a landmark.”

“Ahem! What are you saying! More people visit because of me!”

She had become so accustomed to such unreasonable demands that she was responding mechanically, when—

Clunk.

The main door of the city hall opened, and a man entered.

A man whose mere presence subdued the complaining crowd.

His suit was luxurious, and the beauty of the maid in uniform standing beside him was exceptional.

The only flaw was that her outfit was somewhat revealing.

The half-dressed, hungry artists of Claren gaped with envy and whispered behind his back.

“A nobleman? He must be a nobleman, right?”

“Definitely a noble tourist.”

“Look at the woman’s clothes. He must have fun every night.”

Instantly, the woman’s sharp gaze fell upon the whispering artists, and they were forced to shut their mouths, terrified by her killing intent.

The man, exuding an aura of importance from every pore, approached the receptionist and asked.

“Where is the mayor?”

“Huh? What? The m-mayor?”

The fact that he was directly asking for the mayor confirmed he was someone who couldn’t be treated casually.

“He’s in his office right now. If you could give me your name, I’ll relay it to the mayor.”

The receptionist naturally asked to determine the man’s identity, and he answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Deus Verdi.”

“Ah, Deus Ver…di?”

The receptionist’s head slowly rose as she wrote down the name. Making direct eye contact with Deus, she stood up from her chair excitedly and exclaimed.

“S-S-Spiritmaster!”

Although many people still didn’t recognize spiritmasters.

This was the city hall of a city within Griffin Kingdom territory.

King Orpheus himself had placed spiritmasters on the same level as the Saintess, and the Saintess had acknowledged this as well.

Essentially, one of the five most important people in the country had arrived.

The receptionist suddenly felt as if light was radiating from behind Deus.

Her lips trembled, and her hands wouldn’t move properly.

Normally she would have been too flustered to speak properly, but Deus’s piercing gaze actually helped her regain her composure.

The receptionist managed to collect herself and answered.

“I’ll call the mayor right away!”