Episode 20
Gilbert’s day begins early in the morning. Drinking coffee and reading the newspaper—that was his first daily routine.
Ever since the Klein Theater had taken shape, news about it often appeared in the papers, and Gilbert never failed to read those articles.
The capital eagerly anticipated the day when performances would finally be held in this grand theater, which rivaled the Royal Theater of Diena.
Businessmen were predicting the upheaval this theater would bring to high society, and Diena’s artists showed interest in the unique audition that had been held earlier.
No matter how massive the Klein Theater was, no one thought a single building could threaten the birthplace of the arts.
But it was also no secret that Diena was quietly keeping an eye on the theater.
Gilbert folded the newspaper, set it back on the table, and lifted his slightly cooled cup of coffee.
*‘This might actually be for the best.’*
That was what he thought.
People’s attention was focused on Caroline Dees, the winner of the audition.
Caroline Dees was already a famous singer.
A rookie with the distinction of graduating top of her class from Diena’s music academy and having sung a few times at Diena’s salons, though she still had no official performance experience.
News of her joining the theater spread quickly.
Gilbert didn’t dislike Caroline Dees at all.
She was already a perfectly complete singer, and having her debut here was undoubtedly a great opportunity.
If they put her forward as the prima donna, the theater would likely be a major success.
But the face that came to Gilbert’s mind instead of Caroline’s belonged to someone else.
Flaming red hair that glimmered like fire when it caught the light. Flickering blue eyes.
If Caroline was someone who would succeed no matter which theater she went to, then Amber was the raw gem Gilbert could proudly say he had recognized before anyone else.
It was a familiar pattern of his when selecting someone to sponsor.
When he told her to sing, she didn’t know what to do, but after successfully drawing Lady Delia’s attention, she smiled brightly as if nothing had ever happened.
She even perfectly memorized and sang an aria she’d only heard once.
Regardless of whether she sang well or not, the moment she finished the song without missing a single note, Gilbert was secretly impressed.
According to Nick, Amber had never properly attended a music academy, but someone had always helped her along the way.
Once it had been the choir conductor, and another time a fellow singer.
Gilbert could guess what kind of practice Amber had been doing up until now.
*‘Um, I heard the song for the first time yesterday, and I just went over it in my head all day… This is my first time actually singing it out loud.’*
Her shy, fumbling answer—speaking as if something so extraordinary were perfectly normal—remained vivid in his memory.
“Hah, honestly…”
Gilbert let out a faint laugh without meaning to.
He remembered her profile—clumsy and flustered in his sister’s dress at the Mendela Theater, yet becoming fully immersed the moment the performance began.
That wasn’t the only surprising thing about her.
He had seen the reactions of commoners entering noble society for the first time many times before.
Because of that, he could usually tell exactly what they were thinking just by looking into their eyes.
But Amber adapted faster than any of them.
Most people he had sponsored couldn’t easily believe in their own talent, even when he objectively laid it out for them.
It always took long hours of persuasion and proof.
But Amber lacked even the slightest hint of self-doubt. When he told her she could do it, she simply nodded. When he gave her an opportunity, she seized it without hesitation.
For someone barely twenty, she was quick to grasp the situation. From time to time, Gilbert saw in Amber’s eyes a calmness beyond her years.
“In any case… she’s unusual.”
Just as he continued thinking, a knock sounded in his quiet bedroom, where not even birdcalls could be heard.
“Come in.”
At his permission, Elinia’s personal maid appeared.
“My lady wishes to have breakfast with you.”
“Elly?”
Gilbert set aside his coffee and stood up.
“I’ll go down.”
It was rare for Elinia to wake early and decide to dine with him.
Their waking hours were quite different, so he usually had a simple breakfast alone in his room.
For her to want to eat with him this morning meant she had a clear purpose.
Either she wanted to ask him for something… or she wanted to lecture him. One of the two.
“Good morning, brother!”
And as soon as he stepped into the dining room, her bright, lively voice told him exactly which of the two it would be.
“Good morning, Elly. What made you wake so early?”
Gilbert smiled lightly and took his seat. Elinia mirrored his smile as she answered.
“I just happened to wake up early today. And since the weather’s been lovely, I told them to prepare breakfast so I could join you.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Elinia’s smile deepened. When warm soup and freshly baked bread were served, Gilbert began eating slowly.
The short silence didn’t last long. Elinia naturally spoke first.
“Yesterday I attended the tea party hosted by Marchioness Teblang.”
“Did you? Was it enjoyable?”
“Of course. She’s such a delightful lady. But I heard something interesting there.”
Gilbert paused lifting his fresh cup of coffee and glanced sideways at his sister. Her soup remained untouched.
“They said you might have a lover, brother.”
She looked quite serious, but Gilbert chuckled the moment he heard it.
“Well, that certainly *is* interesting.”
“Isn’t it?”
“What did you say?”
“I told them you’ve never said anything like that to me, but since you never know, I didn’t answer.”
“Good. But since your guess was right, if anyone asks again, answer the same.”
Gilbert had known what she wanted to say the moment she opened her mouth.
It was when they had run into Viscount Logan at the Mendela Theater. Gilbert hadn’t expected the man to faithfully correct the misunderstanding.
This kind of thing happened all the time.
By now, you’d think people would figure out on their own that she was simply someone he sponsored—but they never tired of digging into the second son of the Klein family’s personal life.
Thankfully, the rumors never got too exaggerated because Elinia always corrected the noblewomen directly at their gatherings.
Elinia still seemed uninterested in eating as she gazed at him, then spoke again after a pause.
“Amber is doing well, isn’t she?”
Gilbert raised an eyebrow.
“Amber? Yes, she’s doing well.”
“How was the performance?”
“It went well. I think it was helpful for her. She especially told me she was grateful to you.”
“Really? Then I should invite her for tea sometime. Could you tell her that?”
Gilbert quietly studied his sister. She sat upright, meeting his gaze. After adjusting his posture, he replied.
“She’s incredibly busy right now. Don’t bother her unnecessarily.”
“Everyone needs breaks, no matter how busy they are. If daytime doesn’t work, evenings are fine too.”
“Elly, for a commoner young lady, meeting the duke’s only daughter is not exactly a relaxing break.”
“Anyway, I’ll leave the decision to Amber. Just pass along the invitation.”
Gilbert looked into the pair of golden eyes identical to his own. Eventually, he shook his head as if conceding defeat.
“You must really like her.”
“She’s pretty. And her fashion sense isn’t bad. Brother, you must’ve liked her too, or you wouldn’t have brought her here, right?”
“Well, that’s true.”
He admitted without hesitation, finishing his meal. Only after getting what she wanted did Elinia finally start eating her now half-cooled soup.
—
I took a small breath. Then I closed my eyes and listened to the piano behind me.
“E, G#, C.”
I opened my eyes and turned my head. I saw Rowen’s pale, slender fingers pressing the exact keys—E, G#, and C.
“Excellent.”
Rowen smiled and nodded.
“Let’s try once more.”
To read sheet music, the basics were, of course, understanding scales and rhythm.
I already knew the piano scales, and memorizing the sounds associated with each note wasn’t difficult.
After a few days of practice, I could distinguish simultaneous notes by sound.
“Knowing what each scale sounds like will help immensely. Pitch is relative, so without a reference point, it’s easy to get confused.”
As he said this, he naturally taught me the concepts of major and minor keys, and chords.
I borrowed various books from him and studied on my own, but in the end, I needed someone to check my understanding—so I had no choice but to ask Rowen for help again.
And each time, he welcomed me without a hint of annoyance.
“I’m sorry for troubling you so often.”
“Please don’t say that. Miss Amber, you learn incredibly quickly. Anyone would find it enjoyable to teach you.”
Like that, Rowen gradually expanded my musical world.
All day, I held sheet music, slowly reading notes and completing the melody in my head.
After that, Rowen would point out mistakes or explain the symbols on the score, helping me refine the details step by step.
“It’s pronounced *diminuendo*. It means to grow softer.”
“What about this one?”
“That’s *da capo*. You return to the beginning. And then you end here.”
Once the song was completed, Rowen would play the accompaniment again, and I carefully committed every phrase to memory.
For days, I sang to my heart’s content. I arrived at the theater early in the morning and stayed in the practice room as long as the sun was up.
Then at night, I would return home, sleep briefly, and head back to the theater again.
The practice room I settled into was right beside Rowen’s studio, which was located in a remote corner of the vast theater.
No one came all the way there just to talk behind my back.
Within that repetitive routine, I felt freer than ever. Just the fact that I could sing all day long brought me joy.
The sheet music Rowen gave me kept piling up beside the practice room piano, and I gained that many more songs to sing.
The only person I ran into during that time was Nick Delgado.
He had apparently been visiting Rowen’s room often even before, and now he occasionally knocked on the door while we were practicing.
Each time, Nick would peek in with a pleased expression and then close the door again. But after doing this three times, he finally sighed playfully and stepped inside.
“At this rate, Miss Amber will steal my dear friend away.”
Rowen, standing beside me, chuckled and said,
“He always stops by for tea when he has nothing to do. Nick, could you make some for us?”
Pretending to study the sheet music, I watched the two of them quietly. Just as Miya had said, they truly looked close—comfortable, natural friends.
After that day of tea, Nick began visiting almost every day. He claimed he wouldn’t interrupt practice, brewed tea on his own, and sat quietly observing us.
And occasionally, he casually critiqued my vocal technique. As a former tenor, he sharply noted the flaws in my voice.
Rowen taught me overall musical theory, but he couldn’t teach me to sing.
I sometimes turned toward Nick, who sat slanted in his chair—but he always stood up and left the studio without offering further instruction.
Perhaps Nick’s comments were the beginning.
As the two weeks Lady Delia had mentioned drew near, I suddenly hit a wall without warning.
My understanding of the aria had certainly improved, but the vocal technique—the most important part—kept deteriorating.
“My voice sounds strange.”
The satisfaction I had felt while singing freely at first gradually turned into anxiety.
Even to my own ears, something sounded wrong. Rowen gave me an awkward smile.
“Your throat might simply be tired from singing nonstop, Miss Amber.”
He tried to reassure me, but I knew better.
I’d taken in too many new scores, and the aria from *Lunia*—the one I’d first learned—had almost vanished from my mind.
Everything felt like a distant memory. I couldn’t even remember how I had originally sung it.
With the reference gone, I knew my vocal quality was declining, but I couldn’t find a solution.
At that moment, someone knocked on Rowen’s studio door.
“Your posture is the problem.”
It was Caroline Dees.
