Dorian was ripped from a deep, dreamless sleep not by a gentle nudge, but by a violent, percussive buzzing against his wrist. A burst of notifications was flooding his wristband. He squinted in the pre-dawn gloom, his brain still thick with sleep, and swatted at his arm, missing the device entirely. He fumbled for it again, finally managing to snag it. A holographic call request was flashing insistently. It was Juno.
He accepted, the bright light of the hologram making him squint in pain. "Juno," he groaned, his voice a rough, sleepy rasp. "It is too early for me to be staring at a hologram of anyone."
Juno's hologram showed her already dressed in her academy uniform, her expression a mix of excitement and frantic urgency. She saw Dorian's own hologram, a blurry image of him leaning against the head of his bed, squinting and half-asleep.
"Well, it is kind of important," she said, speaking rapidly. "In twenty minutes, Maestro Gil's private cruiser will be landing in front of your building to take you to Sela. There will be a private mansion for your family to stay in."
Dorian's brain, still trying to boot up, could not process the information. "Huh? What... who is Gil?"
"It is the maestro I have been telling you about!" she said, her voice filled with a desperate exasperation.
Dorian's gaze drifted over to his gaming desk. Leo was there, its internal fans humming softly as it compiled the final code for the massive Stardew Valley expansion he was about to release. There was an urgent matter at hand, but his mind was still on his work. "Here," he said, fumbling to transfer the call. "Talk to Leo. I need to wash my face to wake myself up."
"Oh, hi Leo," Juno's voice said, now coming from the desk's speakers.
"Do I need to be your third wheel first thing in the morning?" the Compadre replied, its tone dry.
"We are not there!" Dorian and Juno said in unison.
"Yet," Leo added under its volume. "Alas, what can I help you with, Miss Park?"
"Can you help Dorian and his family pack up their things? You guys need to be ready in eighteen minutes."
"Urgent getaway protocol," Leo announced, its voice suddenly all business. "Initiating emergency evacuation package."
"No, no, abort!" Dorian shouted frantically from the bathroom. "We are not 'getting away' in that sense! Let's just pack up! I do not understand, but you will explain more on Sela!"
"The people on the cruiser will explain," Juno corrected. "I still have class today. Anyway, please hurry up, and I am sorry for the short notice!"
"Okay, bye, love you," Dorian called out, his mind still a frantic, half-asleep mess. "I-I mean, bye!" He slapped the 'end call' button before she could respond.
He walked out of the bathroom and saw Leo hovering there, its internal parts humming in a way that Dorian could only interpret as a smirk. Dorian's face was beet red.
"OKAY!" he shouted, clapping his hands together to break the awkward silence. "Leo, wake up Dad, Lyra, and Marcus! No need to wash up, we only have fifteen minutes! Let's go, chop chop!"
The early morning was a blur of chaotic, half-awake packing. The Kepler family, dazed and confused, simply followed the frantic instructions of Dorian and Leo. Just as they were stuffing the last of their essentials into bags, the front doorbell chimed.
Dorian looked at his door cam. Standing outside were four people in immaculate black suits, three men and one woman. And with them, a fifth figure that made his breath catch. It was a Compadre, but unlike any he had ever seen. It was tall, easily 2.3 meters, with a skeletal, black-chrome frame and long, slender limbs. Its head was a smooth, featureless ovoid, empty except for two glowing, white optical sensors.
Dorian opened the door. The four suited people bowed in perfect unison. "We are here to pick up Composer Dorian," the woman in front said, her voice polite and professional.
John, Lyra, and Marcus, who had been standing behind Dorian in a state of sleepy confusion, were now shocked wide awake.
"Composer?" John whispered, looking at his son. "Son?"
Dorian turned his head, a slow, completely innocent shrug lifting his shoulders as he offered his family a helpless smile.
…
The Kepler family, with Leo hovering anxiously behind them, walked in a tight, bewildered group towards the private cruiser's station, flanked by the silent, imposing butlers.
"How about our school?" Lyra asked, her voice a worried whisper.
"Shhh, shhh..." Marcus said, tugging on her sleeve. "We are going on a holiday."
Dorian looked at the head butler, Ratik Courtie. "Should we be in this much of a hurry?"
"The Nexus belt has been experiencing a lot of tension lately," Ratik replied, her voice a calm, professional murmur as she guided them through the morning crowds. "We just want to ensure this journey is as smooth as possible for the Composer and his family."
They kept walking. As they rounded a corner and the private landing platform came into view, a voice barked out.
"Halt."
A group of Legion troopers was sitting at an outdoor noodle stall. The lieutenant, his helmet resting on the table beside his bowl, stood up and walked towards them. "You seem to be in a hurry," he said, his eyes scanning their mismatched group. "And to the private stations at that. Got somewhere you have to be?"
Ratik stepped forward, her smile polite and disarming. "As a matter of fact, we do. How about we buy you and your men an early breakfast? A small token of our thanks for the Legion keeping our galaxy safe." She held out a physical credit chit of a denomination that made Dorian's eyes widen.
The lieutenant's expression did not change, but he took the chit. He flicked a finger at his subordinates, who immediately went back to their noodles. "It is great to have citizens that realize our contribution to the galaxy," he said, then walked back to his table without another word.
"Let's go," Ratik said softly.
A few minutes later, they were strapped into the plush seats of Maestro Gil's cruiser. Each of the butlers attended to one of the family members, ensuring they were comfortable. As Ratik was checking Lyra's safety harness, the young girl looked up at her.
"Why did you give that money to him?" Lyra asked, her voice a quiet accusation.
Ratik just booped Lyra's nose gently. "We were just appreciating the Legion with breakfast, that is all." She then stood and addressed the cockpit. "All ready."
The ship took off with a smooth, powerful surge. Dorian looked out the window, and as they ascended through the layers of the city, the morning light finally broke through the gloom, hitting his face. It reminded him of his old academy days, which felt like a lifetime ago.
As they reached open space, they lined up for the hyperspace lane. "Look!" Marcus said, pointing out the window. "We jumped the queue!"
His assigned butler smiled. "We are not, young sir. This is the VIP hyperspace lane. That," he said, pointing to the long, crawling line of freighters and public transports, "is the public lane."
Dorian leaned over and whispered to Ratik. "Did you pay the Legion lieutenant because he was not wearing his helmet?"
Ratik's polite smile gained a sharp, appreciative edge. "Yes, Composer. If you had observed, the other troopers had their helmets on the table, but they were rotated so the camera on the visors did not point towards the public walkway. A small but important tip to see if the Legion is on their official capacity, or on a 'private' affair."
A new layer of the world clicked into place for Dorian. "Thank you," he said, a newfound respect in his voice.
"We are here for you and your family," she replied simply.
Dorian's gaze then fell on the tall, skeletal Compadre standing silently by the cockpit door. "Can I... check and talk to that Compadre? If I am not wrong, it is an RX-type, right?"
"Of course," Ratik said. "He is an ROI-7. We call him Roy."
Roy, hearing his name, turned his featureless head towards Dorian. His two white optical sensors blinked once. "Hai," he said, his voice a surprisingly gentle, innocent tenor. He then raised one of his long, spindly arms and waved, but instead of a normal wave, his entire arm moved in a slow, perfect circle from the shoulder.
…
Gil Nothos paced nervously across the polished marble floor of the mansion he had prepared for the composer. The bright, warm sun of Sela streamed in through the vast, floor-to-ceiling windows, but it did nothing to calm the anxious energy buzzing under his skin.
"How long until they arrive?" he asked his personal Compadre.
"In five more minutes, Maestro," the Compadre replied.
Gil straightened his immaculate suit, the cold, collected demeanor he had cultivated over a century still unable to completely mask the nervous tremor in his hands. He tapped his foot, the sound a sharp, rhythmic click on the floor. Without realizing it, the beat was the same tempo as the piano motif from "Skyfall." He sighed. "Since when did I get caught up in the feelings of an amateur composer?" he murmured to himself. "But with his skill, I cannot just treat him carelessly. If only I was in my younger days... can you imagine the thrill he could bring to my life?"
Just then, the cruiser descended from the sky, its landing gear deploying with a soft, expensive hiss as it touched down on the front lawn. As the Kepler family came down the ramp, John and Lyra were struck dumb with awe. Marcus, however, bolted out and immediately began soaking in the new, impossibly green scenery. Dorian and Leo, meanwhile, were still deep in a conversation with Roy about his internal rigging system.
"Composer," Ratik's calm voice cut through his discussion.
Dorian turned. "We will talk more about the rig system on that," he said to Roy. "I think I have a good idea in mind."
Ratik led the dazed family forward. The front lawn itself was a manicured paradise, easily thirty times more spacious than their entire apartment. As they walked, they passed simple, elegant Compadre models silently trimming hedges and tending to the vibrant, alien greenery. They arrived at the mansion itself. A grand, multi-tiered fountain sprayed glittering water high into the air. The building looked as if it had been carved from a single, gargantuan block of white marble, its accents traced in pure, gleaming gold. A wide set of stairs led up to the imposing front door.
Ratik led them up. As they entered, Dorian saw the Gunnossian dressed in an immaculate suit, standing in the grand foyer.
"Welcome, Composer," Gil said, his voice a cool, smooth baritone. "I know you arrived in the morning, but here on Sela, it is already noon. I will let Ratik lead you to your rooms to adjust to the lag."
Ratik bowed and began to lead the still-shell-shocked family inside. Gil watched the young man, the composer, walk past him. 'A very young man indeed,' he thought. 'I am curious about your future.' He stood there, waiting for Ratik to finish so she could give him her initial report.
The inside of the mansion was even more breathtaking than the outside. The floors were a seamless expanse of polished, dark wood. The ceilings soared three stories high, with holographic art installations shifting and changing on the walls. But Dorian saw none of it. His eyes were drawn to the center of the vast, open-plan living room. A collection of musical instruments, each one a priceless work of art, was displayed on pedestals.
He walked towards them, as if in a trance.
Ratik smiled. "A collection of the finest instruments in the whole Accord."
But Dorian's eyes were locked on two in particular. A violin and a grand piano, placed near each other, as if they were partners, completing each other.
Ratik saw his focus. "The Stradus," she said, gesturing to the violin. "And the Savarius," she added, nodding to the piano.
'Weird,' Dorian thought. 'I can feel something... coming from these instruments. As if they are talking to me. Roaring to be played. But at the same time, that roar is chasing away anyone unworthy who might want to play them.'
He walked closer. "Can I play?"
Ratik hesitated. These were not just instruments; they were museum pieces.
From the front door, Gil's echoed voice cut through her hesitation. "Play."
The old maestro walked towards Dorian, his silver eyes fixed on the boy, and then on the instruments. "Do you hear their plea?"
In that moment, the entire mansion, all its luxury and lavishness, became meaningless to Dorian. His world shrank to the space between him, the old Gunnossian, and the Stradus violin.
"I will play with you, if you want," Gil said, his voice a low, challenging growl.
Lyra and Marcus stopped what they were doing, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. John went pale, terrified that his son was about to accidentally scratch a collection that he could not pay for in a hundred lifetimes of mining.
Dorian looked at Gil, then at the violin, then back at Gil. He gave a slow, confident nod.
"Yes," he said. "But you have to follow my lead."
Gil stared at Dorian, a slow, incredulous smile spreading across his face. Then, he let out a laugh, a sound so loud, so genuine, and so utterly delighted that it echoed through the grand, silent room.
"HAHAHAHAHA! A bold kid," he boomed, his silver eyes sparkling with a life they had not held in decades. "I guess you are a violin player, then."
He turned and walked towards the grand piano, his movements now filled with a new, eager energy. "Come on, then," he said, taking his seat at the Savarius. The challenge was also an invitation.
Dorian dropped his bag without a second thought and walked towards the Stradus. He picked it up. The moment his fingers touched the cool, ancient wood, a jolt, a current of energy, seemed to pass through him. The violin felt... alive. Not an object, but a conduit, humming with a silent, expectant energy.
"Let the siblings talk," Gil said, his four-fingered hands hovering over the pristine keys of the Savarius. "You play solo. Keep the loop. Savarius will not let its partner play alone for too long."
"Can I not just give you a guide?" Dorian asked, a little intimidated by the maestro's confidence.
"Let it go," Gil said, his voice a low, challenging growl.
Dorian took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, let his Mnemonic Echo fill him with the ghost of a memory, and drew the bow across the strings.
[Ghibli Howl's Moving Castle - Merry Go Round of Life]
The first notes were not a statement; they were a question. A simple, searching phrase emerged from the silence, hesitant and pure. It was the sound of a voice calling out into an empty room, listening for an echo that did not come. The Stradus was not just making music; it was waking up, testing the air, and sending out a lonely, hopeful call for its counterpart across the room.
Then, the main waltz theme began. The unforgettable, soaring melody was there, but it was a ghost. It was a waltz for one. Dorian's body swayed with the ghost of a rhythm, his fingers dancing through a memory of a grand ballroom, but the music itself was profoundly solitary. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking lament.
The Stradus was crying out its nostalgia, its voice full of the memory of being held, of being guided by the strong, resonant chords of the piano that now sat silent.
When the music accelerated, the mood shifted from melancholy to a chilling, rising panic. Dorian's bowing became more frantic, the notes a rapid, cascading torrent. It was not the sound of joyful excitement; it was a desperate, breathless plea.
The Stradus was running now, its voice a frantic search through a featureless void, crying out for the missing voice, the missing harmony that would make it whole. "Where are you? Why won't you answer?"
The highest, most emotionally cathartic notes of the melody became the most devastating. Stripped of their harmonic support, the soaring, lyrical peaks were no longer declarations of wonder. They were a pure, distilled cry aimed directly at the silent, slumbering giant across the room. It was the Stradus reaching out with all its might, its voice a beautiful, perfectly formed tear, begging the Savarius to wake up and dance.
And as the final, fading notes of the melody hung in the air and then vanished, what was left was not the satisfying feeling of a story concluding.
It was the feeling of an unfinished sentence.
The silence it left behind was not empty; it was full of a question, a plea that now hung, unanswered, in the very air of the room. But, just as promised, Dorian played again.
The Stradus began its phrase once more. That same hesitant, searching melody, still carrying the echo of its previous loneliness, asked its question into the dark. John held his breath. Lyra watched, her analytical mind trying to grasp the structure, while Marcus just stared, captivated by the beautiful, sad sound.
But this time, before the silence could answer back, the piano arrived.
It did not simply start. It swooped in. The first chord from the Savarius was not a note; it was the drawing of a deep, foundational breath. It was the storyteller opening the book and speaking the first words: "Once upon a time..."
The sound was rich, resonant, and full of an immediate, grounding warmth. It was an answer. In that single moment, the entire emotional landscape of the piece was redrawn. The void was filled.
Dorian's eyes shot open, wide with shock. He saw Gil, the old maestro, his eyes also closed, a small, fierce smile on his lips. Gil's hands, a blur of flesh and chrome, were not just playing the piano; they were commanding it.
The main waltz theme began again, and it was utterly transformed. Gil's left hand laid down the gentle, reassuring pulse of the waltz; the one-two-three, one-two-three. In that instant, Dorian's protagonist was no longer floating. They had a floor to dance upon.
The violin's melody, which was once a lament for a memory, was now a dance in the present tense. It was filled with a soaring, confident joy. The "Merry-Go-Round" was no longer a metaphor for lonely cycles; it was a real, spinning, magical creation.
The storyteller was not just providing the rhythm. Gil's right hand wove intricate, shimmering arpeggios around Dorian's melody. It was painting the world into existence.
With every cascading run of notes, a shimmering castle appeared in Lyra's mind. A starlit sky unfolded for Marcus. A field of impossible, glowing flowers bloomed in John's imagination.
The protagonist was no longer hollow because the world was being created around them, for them, in real time.
The frantic passages returned. But what was a sound of panic was now one of breathless, exhilarating joy. It was the thrill of the ride, the dizzying spin of a dancer caught up in a moment of pure bliss. Gil's powerful chords and rushing scales were the engine driving the excitement. Dorian was no longer playing alone; he was being challenged, pushed, elevated. He was not running in fear; he was flying.
And the highest, most lyrical notes... they were no longer a desperate cry. Supported by the rich, complex harmony of the storyteller, they were a triumphant, shared declaration of emotion. It was a moment of pure catharsis.
Dorian looked at Gil, and Gil, for a split second, opened his silver eyes and looked back, a look of fierce, shared understanding passing between them. The protagonist was not reaching for a hand that was not there; they were holding it, soaring together. It was the sound of a heart not just full, but overflowing.
As the second loop played out, the two instruments were no longer separate entities. They were two halves of a single, perfect story.
The storyteller did not merely accompany the protagonist; they gave them a world to live in. And the protagonist, in turn, did not merely cry; they gave the world a soul to care for. This was the magic of the duet.
The hollowness was filled. The cry was answered. And the music, at last, became whole.
The final chord, a magnificent, shared resolution, rang through the mansion and then faded into a silence that was more profound than any sound. It was a truly magnificent piece of narrative craftsmanship.
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮: Stardwey Valley: Completed.
🎬: -
♬:
- Your Name – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**