Chapter 24: The Unmistakable Queen of Instruments

After getting completely blindsided by Emil’s dazzling goro-shi act,

I got permission to step out of the banquet hall.

“Excuse me. Is my father all right?”

“Oh! You’re here. You must be Chloe.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you from Oliver. This must’ve been hard on you.”

Hard?

Oh, right—because of my dad’s Marine-grade discipline?

“Ah, it’s fine. I’m used to it!”

“My goodness… You’re remarkably mature.”

For some reason, the court musicians all had tears welling in their eyes.

Emil clung to my arm, biting her lip in silent sympathy.

…What’s going on.

Why is everyone acting like this?

Is it the hair?

Are they all mourning my buzzcut?

Now a proud member of the Hairloss Order, I quickly changed the subject.

***

“So, how’s my dad doing?”

“He’s out cold. They say he’ll be bedridden for a few days.”

“But his health isn’t in danger, right?”

“He’s been treated, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Good. That means everything’s fine.

I nodded.

***

“What a weak man.”

“…Huh?”

To think he’d pass out while on duty.

Seriously, Dad?

Then again…

Yeah, I kind of get it.

If I were young and got married, and Mom was my spouse… yeah. 

Ahem.

But wait.

Why was Dad in the Holy Kingdom to begin with?

He’s a Firandelian, right?

Why is he even here?

He’s a court musician, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he be in Firandel’s palace?

Maybe he came to perform for the Empress’s birthday?

[Nope! Firandel is a city-state, so it doesn’t have a king! Of course, no palace or court musicians either! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶]

This damn setting-obsessed novel.

Instead of sweating over that nonsense, give me more hidden loot to find.

[Maybe it’s not the novel’s fault you don’t know your own parents’ jobs? 😊]

As expected of a DaughterGPT punch—

My conscience stings.

***

“But what about tomorrow’s performance?”

“We were already stretched thin for tomorrow’s piece. And of course it had to be Oliver. This is a major blow.”

That’s when I heard them sigh—

Just as I was getting thrashed in a keyboard war with Chat

“Maybe… maybe Her Majesty will understand?”

“Oh, I’m sure she will. But our shot at a higher evaluation is gone.”

…Huh?

Huh??

“Huuhhh???”

“Chloe?”

“What’s the matter?”

There’s a vacancy in the band?

Because my dad passed out?

Wow, what a crazy coincidence!

I was so busy being worried about him I didn’t even think of this on the way here!

[Conscience is the morality that keeps you human!]

I know, I know.

That’s why I rushed over here—to protect Dad’s evaluation, right?

“Um… if it’s all right with you—”

I cleared my throat.

“Would it be okay if I filled in for my father?”

“…What?”

“I mean, I play a pretty decent violin!”

Sure, I played piano and guitar in my last life.

But both were missing from Runtreval.

There were some lookalikes, but they had poor reputations or were unaffordable for home use.

So I’d picked up a new instrument.

“…You, Chloe? You play the violin?”

“Yes! I’ve learned ensemble pieces too, and I’ve practiced tuning with my dad!”

Violin.

A surprise, but this world had it too.

It was a twist of fate—but one I couldn’t let slip away.

This was my chance.

To leave a strong impression on the senior musicians.

And also…

I glanced at Emil.

My friend, quieter than usual, as if she understood the gravity of what she’d done.

I want her to hear it too.

How much music means to me.

How much I love to play.

That’s when one of the musicians, who’d been deep in thought, spoke up gently.

“…Listen, Chloe. I get how you feel, but—”

“Hold on a second! I know this seems ridiculous, but I’m not all talk, I swear!”

I nearly screamed as I pleaded—

Putting every ounce of sincerity into convincing my father’s colleagues.

“I really can do it! If you want, I can play right now—”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

A firm hand landed on my shoulder mid-rant.

One of the musicians looked at me gravely.

***

“Just go find a wig first. Cover that head of yours.”

“…Ah.”

Right.

I forgot. There’s no cultural hesitation around child labor here.

***

“But where am I supposed to find a wig that fits me?”

Out in the hallway, just after visiting Dad in the infirmary,

I found myself staring down a problem worthy of the Fields Medal.

Wig farming for a child-sized head—in half a day—in the Middle Ages!

***

“What kind of high-difficulty side quest is this? This is way more stressful than any of those duels I’ve fought!”

“This is just unfair.”

Okay, so there are wigs in Runtreval.

Even the guildmaster was frantically looking for one this morning.

But didn’t find one, right?

More specifically—there were no child-sized wigs.

Just look at Dad’s colleagues.

They’re not even worried about instruments. 

All their focus is on the wig.

Finding a wig for an 8-year-old body?

Clearly more difficult than finding a violin for an 8-year-old body.

“Not easy.”

It’s really not.

Even on Earth, this would be hard.

When in your life would you ever need to put a wig on a kid?

Even child fashion models don’t use wigs.

***

“We could have one custom-made.”

“You’re still thinking like a bourgeois. And how long would that take?”

“Find a specialist. Use magic—it’ll be faster.”

“What? There’s magic for making wigs?”

Apparently, some eccentric mage had made one.

But who on earth has a desperate enough demand to invent wig magic?

[Wigs are mainly in demand by people with hair loss!]

…Ah.

Stop.

Say no more.

It wasn’t eccentricity—it was desperation.

The existence of wig magic means even mages haven’t cracked hair regrowth.

So I just need to find a bald mage, right?

Hmm.

I rubbed my chin.

Me, with my shaven head, asking a hair-loss sufferer who studied magic out of follicular despair for a rush-order custom wig by tomorrow?

“…How is this supposed to be easier?”

[Still not easy 😜]

Obstacle after obstacle.

But the person who finally broke through the deadlock was… unexpected.

***

“Sniff…! Chloe, you’ve been through so much… You did so well…!”

Grandpa??

What’s he doing here?

…Actually, I should’ve expected this the moment Emil showed up.

***

“Um… Lord Yaltarion? Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing… Just… It appears to be raining…”

He lifted his face dramatically and dabbed at his eyes.

Apparently, indoor rain is a thing in Runtreval.

I guess that tracks when you’re a grand mage.

But seriously—what exactly moved you so deeply?

Was it that I didn’t run away from music again?

That your granddaughter dove headfirst into the arts and chained me back to it?

***

“The rain’s letting up. You said you need a wig? I’ll contact some mages I know.”

“…Yes. Please do.”

No use asking for clarification.

This is just who he is.

At his age, especially as a highly sensitive artist, it’s not that strange.

You know—that kind of teary, emotionally charged atmosphere women get when they deeply relate to something.

***

I rummaged through the guildmaster’s luggage.

The guy was loaded—he actually managed to get a wig somehow.

***

“You already found one?”

Emil walked over quickly—then frowned.

Fair enough.

***

“This quality is terrible. Doesn’t even fit.”

“It was a rush job, okay? It’s made for adults.”

I pouted and scolded her.

***

“Do you know how much hair goes into a wig? They usually gather it from multiple people and dye it.”

“You know a lot.”

“Yeah. I looked into it after shaving my head.”

At that, Emil froze completely.

Yaltarion, too, froze mid-breath.

“The best quality wigs are made with undyed, natural hair—but to get enough from a single person, you’d need super long hair.”

“…Of course.”

“Right? And what kind of woman would want to chop off hair she’s grown with care? No wonder high-grade wigs are rare.”

“…………Of course.”

You have no idea how hard long hair is to maintain.
If it weren’t for my mom, I wouldn’t have grown it out either.

Oh, the hair I shaved off earlier?

I chopped it up and threw it out right away.
What if there was some weird fantasy glue that could stick it back to my scalp or something?

***

“…Got it. Wait here for a moment.”

“Huh?”

Wait?

Wait for what?

Without another word, Emil lifted the hem of her dress.

A dagger—resting against her thin thigh like it belonged there.

And without hesitation, like she’d rehearsed it, she drew it.

I didn’t even have time to ask why she had a knife.

With the dagger clenched between her teeth, Emil tied up her hair—

Then brought the blade right to the roots.

And then—

Snip!

A gleam like magic danced along the razor-sharp edge,

And her long orange locks tumbled around her in waves.

In a blink, she had cut it all off.

She held the freshly cut hair out to me.

***

“Here. Take it.”
“………………”

What.

Even.

I had so many questions, but the first thing that came out was:

“Okay, first—put the knife down and then we can talk.”

Did you seriously bring that thing when we met the Empress?

Who were you planning to stab with that hidden weapon?

***

“You’re saying you want to have Oliver’s daughter perform in his place?”

“Yes. She volunteered herself.”

This was after one of Oliver’s colleagues reported the conversation with Chloe to the orchestra leader.

Conductor Lindaril clapped her hands in admiration.

***

“That’s perfect! Oliver fainting is his fault, so we don’t have to pay him! Ugh, Nicola—you always come through!”

“?”

“?”

“…What the actual—Nicola, you little—?!”

“Aaah, no, that’s not what I meant!!”

Nicola, now branded a cheapskate elf in front of everyone, looked around in panic.

Lindaril, meanwhile, happily packed up her instrument.

***

“Ma’am?”

“I’m gonna go listen to the girl play for a bit.”

“Oh, it’s an audition then. Do you really think she can match Oliver’s skill?”

“Does it matter? Even if she’s a little off—so what?”

“Sorry?”

“Huh?”

Lindaril blinked innocently, as if we were the ones being weird.

***

“I heard Her Majesty likes her, right?”

“Seems so?”

“Then even if the kid’s not that great, we can just treat it like a children’s recital. A birthday performance is half heart, after all.”

“Ohhh…”

The musicians murmured in admiration.

There was something about Lindaril’s veteran aura that really hit.

“Even if she’s terrible, a duet with me would at least make it passable. Better than throwing together some last-minute ensemble.”

“True, true.”

It was a smart on-the-spot solution.

Say what you will about elves being annoying, but at the end of the day, they’re still elves—

Creative, emotionally intelligent, and maybe lacking some empathy and conscience, but excellent supervisors nonetheless—

“Plus, if Her Majesty likes the kid, then even if the performance bombs, I won’t get yelled at as much!”

“?”

…Wow. This elf.

Or maybe… is that just… practical?

“Ma’am, come on. Even if we’re desperate, that’s a little much.”

The bluntness of it all finally sparked some protest.

Especially from Titus—

One of the musicians who had competed with Oliver for his position.

“Noa’s daughter… I mean, Oliver’s daughter might be skilled, sure. She is already eight, after all.”

“Titus. I’ve told you— First loves are meant to fail and be forgotten.”

“Okay, that’s completely unrelated! Anyway, I just think we should assess her actual ability first.”

He wasn’t wrong. So Lindaril, now mildly annoyed, flicked her fingers.

“Fine. You come too.”

“…Huh?”

“Let’s go listen together.

See if Oliver’s daughter lives up to her big talk.”

And just like that, Lindaril dashed off by carriage.

She arrived at the luxury inn where Chloe was staying.

“Wow. Fancy place she’s in.”

Does Oliver’s family have that much money?

I should borrow some later.

Humming a tune, Lindaril strolled into the inn.

Normally, outsiders weren’t allowed in unless the guest came down themselves…

But Lindaril was the Imperial Court’s Chief Musician.

Regardless of what she earned, her reputation and honor were unparalleled.

Getting through the entrance on charm alone? Child’s play.

Except—

Just as she stepped into the hallway—

“…Huh?”

Faintly.

So faintly it was almost inaudible—

A rhythm, from a string instrument, whispered through the corridor.

The musicians froze where they stood.

They felt it in their skin—the very texture of the air had changed.

There was no mistaking it.

Though barely audible, someone was playing.

That in itself wasn’t the issue.

It was the Empress’s birthday festival, after all.

Guests might well be enjoying a little music.

But the strange thing wasn’t that music was being played—

It was the music itself.

The shockingly refined, nearly unthinkable level of musical sophistication.

Lindaril, who had been listening closely to the tone, suddenly realized—

“…Wait. Is that… a violin?”

The violin.

The “queen of instruments” in the 21st century, adored in orchestras and solo stages alike.

But not here in Luntreval.

On this continent, the violin was still a newcomer—

An unfamiliar, almost alien instrument.

A girl who hadn’t even earned a proper solo piece of her own.

That’s what stunned them.

“A violin… is capable of this kind of range?”

No.

The violin should not be capable of a solo performance like this.

Ask any musician in the land, and they would say the same.

“Dear, let’s step outside for a moment.”

“Shall we? I was wondering about it too.”

Even guests from the rooms began to peek into the hallway, faces awash with the same spellbound expression.

Titus looked around in confusion.

“I’ve never heard this piece before. Who’s playing? Did Fluerden’s court orchestra send someone?”

“No.”

“…Sorry?”

“I said no. I know—or at least, I think I know.”

Lindaril murmured.

She had forgotten to even breathe.

“This sheet music…

It’s not something any ordinary ensemble could’ve composed.”

The instinct of a fairy who had devoted her life to music was never wrong.

This was a composition written solely for the violin.

From the dawn of the piano’s era—

A time when a genius, who once scoffed at the new instrument destined to become the Emperor of Instruments, instead composed a piece for the Queen.

A Queen’s solo—after turning her back on the Emperor.

By Johann S. Bach.

Sonata No. 1 in G minor for Solo Violin.

Fuga.

“…My gods.”

As the soaring notes filled the corridor,

Lindaril felt her heart tremble.

As if it were the first time she had ever held an instrument.

No—

Maybe even more than that.