Episode 4
Madam Sierra’s dress shop was right in the heart of the capital, situated on its busiest main street.
It was close to the royal palace, yet completely opposite from the townhouses where the nobles’ mansions clustered.
And on the opposite side of the palace stood the central temple, so enormous that, unlike regional temples, its towering spire could be seen from anywhere in the city. Yet the window of my room faced directly away from the temple.
*”If you ever come to the capital, come to the temple. I am always there.”*
Perhaps if I went to the central temple, I could see Martin. But I didn’t even glance in that direction.
Of course, sometimes I missed him terribly, and a part of me wanted to seek out someone who didn’t even know me.
If I had completely shaken off my guilt, I might have done so.
He had saved me, yet I had been poison to him. So this time, I wouldn’t even begin.
*”It’s okay if he doesn’t remember. I remember.”*
I could recall every conversation we had, vividly.
Martin and music had given me a reason to live, affirming the thought that I wanted to keep living.
Even in this second life, nothing had changed.
So I left the lord’s castle and departed Harn.
Before I became tied to that land again, before the things that had bound me could trap me once more. Before the courage that was almost impulsive could fade. I didn’t even try to think about right or wrong.
I simply decided to go to the capital. To go there and sing.
—
*”Sing?”*
*”Yes, it’s a song Madam Sierra likes the most.”*
Madam Sierra put down the scissors she had been using to cut fabric and chuckled.
*”Who has time for something like that?”*
*”Then would you like to hear it now? May I sing for you?”*
Knowing only hymns and masses, I couldn’t sing properly without going to the temple.
I tried to sing in front of Madam Sierra, but she, having lost her husband early and lived alone without children, unfortunately had no taste for music.
She didn’t go to temples, so hymns didn’t move her, and she didn’t particularly like folk songs either.
Moreover, her house was deep in the bustling streets, with neighboring buildings so close that I couldn’t project my voice to fill the space.
*”Child, I don’t really know. If singing is that important to you, why not try a tavern?”*
It was obvious to her that I was looking for a place to sing, and that my “something I want to do” I mentioned on the first day was singing. She offered her advice.
*”A tavern?”*
*”Yes, a tavern where people sing on stage. Don’t you know?”*
According to her, some taverns in the capital had singers perform on stage.
*”Have you been to one, Madam Sierra?”*
*”Oh, child. Why would I go there? Ah, maybe Ms. Tayla knows. She’s fond of drinking. By the way, the fabric order has run out. Could you go place an order for me?”*
Tayla ran the fabric shop that Madam Sierra often traded with. I quickly nodded, taking off my apron.
*”Deep blue velvet, right?”*
*”Yes. The time is right, so after ordering, just go home.”*
*”Thank you.”*
Turning her gaze away, she waved absently and entered the back of the shop. Though she had seemed strict during my first interview, she was surprisingly lenient with her employees.
Living under the same roof, she didn’t pry into my private life. She simply made coffee so hot it could burn your lips every morning.
Once I got used to her routine, I even started preparing breakfast for her as well.
So we ended up sitting together every morning, having meals and coffee.
The dress shop work itself wasn’t too busy. Though not famous, Madam Sierra’s shop was steadily building a loyal clientele.
*”I just need to earn enough to live. What would I do with wealth?”*
Even during the height of social season, she didn’t advertise much. When I expressed concern, she said exactly that.
Thanks to this, I could leave the shop a little early and walk lightly down the street.
The capital, located south of Harn, already felt like spring.
Walking three blocks to Tayla’s shop, my gaze naturally drifted toward a certain place.
A building was under construction not far away.
Though still incomplete, its outline was immense, and its size exuded grandeur and presence.
I already knew what this building would be: the Klein Theater.
In my previous life, after it was completed, it soon became the most famous theater in the kingdom, appearing on newspaper front pages that even reached Harn.
I had once discussed it briefly with Martin.
*”Martin, if I want to sing something other than hymns, what should I do? Would that be a sin?”*
Back then, like a newborn calf just learning to walk, I left the judgment of right and wrong entirely to Martin.
*”Why would you think that?”*
*”Another article on the Klein Theater and Caroline Dées came out. Look, it says record sales or something.”*
The newspaper featured a large illustration of the theater’s exterior and a portrait of Caroline Dées.
As I stared at the paper, I could hear Martin’s laughter beside me.
*”Amber, isn’t that your voice?”*
When I turned, his face was in shadow against the sun. That gentle, endlessly kind face was my source of courage.
*”God loves you, so you can do anything.”*
A spring breeze blew again, and a stray strand of hair brushed my cheek.
Before my eyes stood the Klein Theater, encased in steel.
A city that loved the arts, rivaling any theater in Diena, now had a new centerpiece for music in the heart of Belfern.
Having learned a little to read from Levistan, I borrowed a neighbor’s newspaper to read performance news at the Klein Theater with Martin.
Every night, I dreamed absurdly.
How wonderful it would be to stand on that stage and sing. How delightful the prima donna’s voice must be.
Knowing nothing of classical music, in my dreams I sang hymns on the imaginary stage of the Klein Theater.
Back then, I never thought I would see the Klein Theater with my own eyes.
*”You can do anything.”*
Martin’s voice echoed in my ears again.
*”When it’s finished, it’ll be even more amazing.”*
The theater, larger and more magnificent than any illustration, was undeniably beautiful, as Martin had said.
Walking while gazing at it, I reached Tayla’s shop. Reluctantly, I grabbed the door handle.
A familiar face flickered in my peripheral vision.
Instinctively, I turned my head again.
At the construction site, a man held a large sheet of paper, issuing instructions. I immediately remembered his name.
*”Gilbert Klein.”*
How could I forget? The face I had seen in newspapers day after day. He was clearly the theater owner.
Seeing him in person for the first time, I froze, taking in his profile.
Sharp, delicate features; intense golden eyes that seemed impossible to avert from the theater; glossy black hair catching sunlight, slightly tousled but likely neatly combed that morning.
I felt like I might forget to breathe. The portrait in the newspaper hadn’t captured his presence.
*”He’s even more handsome than Levistan.”*
For me, who had only considered Levistan the standard of beauty, his face was a refreshing shock.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away until Tayla called my name from the shop doorway.
*”Amber? What is it?”*
Finally, I turned quickly.
*”Ah, hello, Ms. Tayla. I’m here on Madam Sierra’s errand.”*
I hurried inside.
*”The velvet ran out.”*
The errand was brief. I greeted quickly and left, but Gilbert Klein was already gone.
Reluctantly, I turned my attention to the paper Tayla had given me.
As Madam Sierra said, Tayla suggested a few suitable taverns. I headed to the closest one.
—
The interior of the tavern was darker than I expected, already crowded even at this early evening.
I sat at a corner table, ordered food and drinks, and quietly observed the stage.
It was at the front of the room, slightly raised so those at the back could see.
A piano and several other unfamiliar instruments were arranged to one side, and a spotlight focused on the center of the stage.
Soon, a woman with black hair and tanned skin stepped up. Applause and calls of her name echoed from the audience.
She glanced around leisurely, then smiled. The pianist joined her, and she began to sing.
It was a melody I had never heard before. Not a hymn, not a folk song.
But it wasn’t unpleasant. I listened carefully, committing the strange melody to memory.
As night deepened, the songs became livelier, and the instruments more diverse.
A golden instrument played with the mouth, another struck while seated.
Drunken patrons began rising from their seats, dancing or singing along.
I quietly observed everything, absorbing it all.
The next day, another singer took the stage, and the day after, yet another.
Every day after finishing work at the dress shop, I went to the tavern, had dinner, and returned home late at night.
By the time I became accustomed to the smoky air, sticky tables, and noisy middle-aged men, I went to the bar and said to a staff member,
*”I’d like to meet the owner here.”*
