Ch.188Who Am I? (4)

She was a woman who resembled a piano.

Among her snow-white hair were strands of black, and while her fingers were pale white, her nails were painted black. The woman composed of only black and white, thus resembling a piano, introduced herself to Najin while looking at him.

Like a performer greeting the audience.

“My name is Violet. How did you find my performance? My unfamiliar guest.”

She introduced herself as “Violet.”

Then she looked at Najin with sparkling eyes. She seemed to be expecting Najin’s thoughts on the performance she had given, but Najin found her gaze quite burdensome.

“I don’t know much about music.”

“That’s quite alright! You don’t need to be knowledgeable about music to enjoy it. I’m asking for your impression, not a critic’s review.”

“Well, in that case…”

Najin recalled the performance he had just heard.

Then he conveyed his honest impression.

“It was intense. I thought the sound of rain would interfere with the performance, but it didn’t. Rather, even the rain seemed to be part of the performance…”

Hesitantly, Najin shared his thoughts on the music. Violet nodded and listened attentively to each word Najin spoke.

“I can’t explain it well, but it was good. Good enough to make me applaud without thinking.”

“That’s the highest praise a performer can receive. Not all performers feel this way, but I feel truly alive when someone claps for my performance.”

Violet smiled.

“My guest? Do you happen to have any other plans today?”

“No. Nothing in particular.”

“Then could you give me today?”

When Najin tilted his head in confusion, she added:

“I’d like you to listen to more of my performances. And, if you could share your impressions like you just did, that would be even better. If a whole day is difficult… could you at least do so until this rain stops?”

Najin looked out the window.

The sudden downpour was a heavy shower. Listening to her performance until the rain stopped wasn’t a difficult request at all.

“Let’s do that.”

When Najin agreed, Violet’s face brightened. She sat back down on the chair and placed her fingers on the keys. After feeling the keyboard with her eyes closed, she eventually began to play, almost humming.

In the abandoned, dusty old tavern, an untainted beautiful performance resonated.

“Hey, why are you in such a hurry…”

Merlin, who had followed Najin into the store belatedly, looked back and forth between Najin and Violet before closing her mouth. Then she quietly sat down next to Najin and listened to the performance.

Though Merlin was usually talkative and chatty, she knew when to be silent. As long as Violet was playing the piano, Merlin maintained her silence. As if to say that was the proper etiquette toward a performer.

And, as the performance was ending.

Merlin stood up from her seat and applauded. It wasn’t simply out of courtesy to the performer; she seemed genuinely impressed.

“Leconte’s Concerto No. 7, right?”

At Merlin’s words, Violet’s eyes widened. As if she hadn’t expected anyone to recognize this piece.

“I can’t believe someone who knows how to play this still exists! It’s not just playing the original piece, but you added some variations… including that, it was amazing!”

Najin was equally surprised.

When Najin looked at Merlin with renewed interest, Merlin, feeling his gaze, shrugged her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“What’s with that look? I’m a cultured woman. Classical music is the epitome of culture. Despite appearances, I can play several instruments myself.”

“That’s really unexpected.”

“What do you take me for?”

He had thought of her as something of a shoddy archmage. Since there was no chance of this inner monologue reaching Merlin, it could remain just that—an inner monologue.

“Any other performances? Do you have more? It’s been so long since I’ve heard such music, and it’s truly wonderful.”

“Of course I do. Then for the next one…”

Violet continued to perform.

She had said she would play until the rain stopped, but the rain continued to fall endlessly. What was thought to be a brief shower continued until late into the night.

Similarly, what was expected to be a brief concert also continued without pause until deep into the night.

The sound of rain. The sound of piano. And silence.

That day, no bells rang. Radon did not appear, and Viola Ordina did not march out. There was no sound of breaking glass, nor was there applause and praise for Viola.

Only the sound of piano resonated through the old tavern.

2.

Similar days repeated.

On sunny days, Radon would invariably appear. Viola would once again trap Radon in the glass window, and the streets would be filled with voices praising Viola.

“…”

On sunny days, even if Najin visited the old tavern, Violet would not appear. Only the piano stood there, all alone.

But on rainy days.

Swoosh.

Amidst the sound of raindrops hitting surfaces, piano music would resonate. If one visited the tavern, Violet would always be there, tapping on the keys.

“Welcome, my unfamiliar guests!”

As if she had been waiting for Najin and Merlin, she had even set aside separate chairs by the piano. What she wanted was the same as before.

To listen to her performance until the rain stopped.

And to share their impressions.

Merlin, who could recognize her performances accurately and provide detailed critiques, and Najin, who knew nothing about music… but for that very reason, could convey his impressions purely as he felt them. Listening to both of their impressions, Violet smiled contentedly.

As if truly satisfied.

Such days continued. And at some point, Violet began to offer more than just performances. She started to talk.

“Heroes, they’re often portrayed so beautifully in fairy tales… but sometimes I think.”

As if talking to herself.

As if monologuing, she murmured.

“Heroes, I wonder if they’re all actually mentally ill.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it. Heroes in fairy tales risk their lives to fight. And not for themselves, but for others. They bleed and fight for complete strangers they’ve never even spoken to, let alone seen face to face.”

Violet laughed.

It wasn’t her usual laugh.

“Does that make sense? Fighting is hard. Bleeding hurts. I just can’t understand enduring such pain solely for the sake of others. I can’t empathize with it either. I don’t understand why they do it.”

And yet, she continued.

“Heroes continue to fight. Why? Perhaps because of the duty that’s been semi-forcibly imposed on them from the moment they started being called heroes.”

“Duty?”

“Yes, duty. Because a hero should be like this. Because a hero willingly bleeds for the many. Because that’s the right thing to do. It’s a duty that they don’t even know when it was imposed. And if they break that duty? Criticism pours in. At some point, goodwill becomes duty, and what was once enjoyed out of goodwill transforms into a right.”

Boom, went the sound.

A key was pressed, producing a heavy sound.

“Goodwill cannot last forever. Even if you saved someone out of good intentions, that’s just saving them once by chance. How can you repeat that forever? Heroes should have lives too. They weren’t born heroes from the start.”

But.

“Goodwill has already become duty. And you can’t escape from something that has become a duty. Once a hero, always a hero. Isn’t that a perfect situation for developing a mental illness?”

A bitter smile formed on Violet’s lips.

“Until the body wears out.”

She looked at her own fingers.

“Until they can no longer move.”

Her fingers were stained black. The blackened fingers were trembling. Regardless of her will.

“Endlessly, endlessly, endlessly…”

Decayed, rotting fingers.

Hiding her fingers that could no longer tap the keys, Violet turned to Najin.

“So, you see.”

Her hair was no longer white.

The hair that had been composed of white and black was now stained completely black. Her eyes no longer sparkled either. Instead of a natural smile, a forced one hung on her lips.

With a gloomy expression, Violet.

No, Viola Ordina opened her mouth.

“Heroes are mentally ill.”

She moved her body slowly.

The rain, which seemed like it would continue until deep into the night, stopped the moment she moved. The sky cleared as if it had never rained, and as if it had been waiting for this moment, bells began to ring throughout the streets.

“Heroes have no self.”

Viola murmured expressionlessly.

“For others, only for others, they’ve detached themselves from themselves—that’s what a hero is.”

Leaving those words behind, Viola walked outside.

The bells rang, and as the glass window shattered, Radon appeared.

And Viola Ordina marched out.

3.

As always, Viola, who had disappeared with Radon, returned to the city after half a day. As she walked, cheers erupted. Shouts, praises, salutes, and countless applause filled the streets.

And Viola, as always…

“Ah.”

Unlike always, she didn’t ignore those sounds and head to the cathedral. She stopped in her tracks. Then she approached one of the citizens who was showering her with praise.

While the citizen was flustered to see the national hero up close, Viola tilted her head towards him.

“Who.”

Viola Ordina asked.

“Who am I?”

“P-pardon?”

“I asked who I am.”

“V-Viola Ordina, aren’t you? The glorious hero of the Kingdom of Cassel…”

Crash, went the sound.

The citizen’s head shattered like a glass window. Splat, blood splattered in all directions. The eyes of those near the citizen trembled, but they neither screamed nor fled.

Such was the pressure exerted by a transcendent being.

“You.”

Viola Ordina turned her head to the side.

To a middle-aged man who was covered in blood due to the person’s head exploding next to him, she asked again.

“Who am I?”

The middle-aged man answered. You are Viola Ordina.

Again, crash, went the sound.

Along with the sound of breaking glass, the middle-aged man’s head flew off. Similar incidents repeated several times. Eventually, knights moved, but there was no one who could stop a transcendent being. They too received the same question and had their heads shattered in the same manner.

“Who.”

Viola looked down at her blackened fingers with empty eyes.

“I.”

She burst into laughter.

“I, me, who? Ah, I. Myself.”

Her gaze, which had been wavering, eventually turned to an old woman. The moment she confirmed the old woman’s appearance, Viola’s eyes widened. It seemed as if Viola knew this old woman. Rushing to the elderly woman, Viola grabbed both her shoulders and asked:

“Sister, my dear sister.”

Viola asked.

“You know, don’t you? Who I am. You know what my original name was. Your and my mother’s name was Olivie. Yes, I remember your name too! You’re Mirents.”

Viola grabbed the old woman’s shoulders and shook her vigorously.

“Then what’s my name? Will you tell me my name? You might not remember. I’ll help you, please tell me my name. What’s the name of your sister who loved the piano? The name of your sister who dreamed of being a performer…”

So, Viola pleaded with the old woman.

“Tell me my name. Please, please, I beg you, Mirents.”

The old woman, whom Viola called her sister, couldn’t answer the question. She only responded, terrified, with trembling eyes, looking at Viola.

You are Viola Ordina.

At that answer, Viola’s lips hardened. While others had their heads shattered and lost their lives instantly, such fortune was not granted to the old woman. The old woman began to disintegrate slowly from her fingertips.

“Ah, ahahaha, ahahahak!”

Amidst the old woman’s screams, Ordina laughed. That laughter suddenly stopped, silently.

“Who.”

Her lips opened and closed repeatedly.

“Am I?”

Who am I?

The Lonely Star, Viola Ordina.

The constellation with the ability to detach herself from the world eventually detached herself from herself.

Dong, daeng, dong…

The bells rang. But the sky did not break. Even looking up at the sky, Radon was nowhere to be seen.

What broke was Viola Ordina.

The space around Viola Ordina shattered like a glass window with cracks.

“Ah, ha.”

Viola Ordina laughed.

The evil dragon, Radon, laughed.