Chapter 3
A hazy afterimage rose within Elliot's mind an old man seated at a piano left standing alone in what appeared to be a place of ruin, playing amid the wreckage of a world that had fallen apart around him. The music that poured from beneath his fingers carried within it both despair and hope in equal measure.
The precise nature of the war was unclear, but the old man had lost a great many people. His friends were gone, and so were his son and all the branches of his family every last one of them. What remained was a single grandchild, and nothing more.
At least there is that much.
Such was the thought that drifted, unbidden, through the old man's heart and through Elliot's, borrowing that heart as its vessel. But the grandchild, it seemed, did not share that feeling.
Grandfather, where is mother?
He had seen death at far too young an age, and learned despair before he had ever had the chance to learn hope at the very age when a child should have been looking only at beautiful things, reaching only toward the light.
Grandfather, I think the others must hurt as much as I do. How are they managing to go on living? I would rather die. Father, mother!
His parents were dead.
And my friend Matthew, and Ralku, and then, and then!
His friends were dead.
The girl he had loved from afar was dead.
Most of everyone around him was dead.
That was the kind of war it had been.
And yet father, and mother, and my friends, and the woman next door all told me to live on when I would rather die than do it!
He wondered whether others hurt as much as he did. But even if they did, it would not have made his own pain any smaller. The idea that grief halved when shared was nothing but empty words, and the notion that time healed all wounds was no different.
Time passed, and what remained was only the wound and rather than closing, it simply continued to open wider.
I am sorry, grandfather. You must be suffering too, and yet here I am crying about my own pain. But it does not seem to be the case that because others are suffering, I am suffering any less. I want you, and me, and everyone to be happy again. But I cannot see any hope.
When the war ended, what was left was only death, ruin, wounds, and despair.
For whose sake had that war even been fought? When one considered what had sparked it, the answer was almost too absurd to bear. In a war waged for the honor of the nobility, the deaths of commoners had been nothing more than numbers on a ledger.
With casualties at this level, if we have preserved our honor, then it was a price well paid.
Some nobleman had said those words. The old man knew it. He had considered telling his grandchild the truth of it giving him someone to direct his resentment toward, in the hope that having a target for his anger might at least give the boy something to hold onto. But he had chosen not to. Resentment would breed hatred, and hatred would only darken the boy's heart further.
Then let me play the piano.
The piano was the only thing the old man had spent his entire life doing, the only thing he truly knew how to do. He was not a man of eloquent speech, and he understood that no words he could offer would ever be enough to heal his grandchild's pain.
And so he played.
For his grandchild's pain.
To let him hear the hope that his grandchild could no longer see.
For all those wounded souls from that war that his grandchild had worried over.
He could not show them so he let them listen instead.
The old man poured despair into his fingers, and then hope.
At the end of despair, there is hope.
And Elliot's fingers began to borrow that despair, and that hope, and make them his own.
"..."
The piano fell silent. Professor Laurence, standing just beyond the slightly open door, had been overcome with admiration from the moment the music reached him.
Who in the world could have produced a performance like that?!
To think that someone capable of playing like this had been living within the Nert ducal household all this time!
Professor Laurence counted himself extraordinarily fortunate. Had the door been fully closed, the flow of that performance would never have reached him at all.
Surely, if a talent of this caliber had existed here, word would have spread long before now. It had not even occurred to Professor Laurence to suspect that the one playing might be Elliot which was precisely why the sight that greeted him when he opened the door and found Elliot seated at the piano struck him like a physical blow.
"Young master?"
No matter how many times he looked around the room, Elliot was the only person in it. Professor Laurence opened and closed his eyes several times, scanning every corner carefully. But there was no one else to be found, and no one who had not been there before was going to suddenly appear out of thin air.
"Professor Laurence?"
After a long moment, Elliot answered him in a slightly dazed voice.
Elliot's mind was still reeling in the aftermath of the performance. The memories of an old man he had never known in life had, for a brief time, completely consumed his inner world and his fingers had moved entirely of their own accord. It had felt like a dream, and yet he had been fully aware, even within it, that it was real. The strangeness of that sensation lingered.
[You have completed the tutorial magnificently!]
[As a tutorial reward, a special benefit related to 'Piano' will be provided.]
[For details, please refer to the help section of the System.]
The old man's emotions and memories still tingled through him like an aftershock. And in the midst of that disorienting haze, to add the finishing touch, a line of system text had appeared as well. Elliot stared at the translucent window floating in the air before him, and then turned to ask Professor Laurence, with some caution:
"Professor do you happen to see anything here?"
"I see your face, young master. But more to the point what on earth just happened? That performance just now that piece is not one I have ever taught you. Is there perhaps a score that has been passed down within the ducal family? Or perhaps"
Elliot listened with a wry smile and said nothing in return, letting the professor's words wash over him. After a considerable while of excited rambling, the man's enthusiasm seemed to settle, and he offered a somewhat sheepish smile before falling quiet. Then, in a voice still bright with energy, he asked:
"What in the world has happened? I had heard that you were quite unwell for some time did something occur in the meanwhile?"
Elliot knew full well that the performance he had just given was something that the version of himself who had existed before would never have been capable of, no matter how many years he had devoted to the piano. He considered the matter briefly, then said:
"I am not entirely sure myself. I simply played, and it came out."
"Pardon?"
Professor Laurence could not help the involuntary question that escaped him.
"Just like that. Simply played."
There was no particular reason he could give, so he had no choice but to brazen it out. In any case, the floating text in the air was beginning to bother him would it not disappear? He would have appreciated it vanishing at this particular moment. From Professor Laurence's reaction, it seemed that the man could not see the window at all.
Hm?
The instant that thought crossed Elliot's mind, the translucent window floating in the air vanished.
The piano lesson that day ended early. Every piece that followed was splendid somewhat less so than the very first performance, but splendid nonetheless.
A person cannot always play at their very peak.
Even so, every piece after that first one had been excellent. Whatever had happened to Elliot was beyond Professor Laurence's understanding, but the professor was a man who concerned himself with results.
"The piano is settled. If you play as you did today at your social debut, it will be more than sufficient. You would do well to spend your remaining time on matters of attire and accessories. In society, skill matters but presentation must be attended to as well."
The sort of urban legend in which a person was struck by lightning and awoke to find themselves possessed of a talent they had never had before that kind of thing did, in truth, occur from time to time. Rarely, to be certain but it occurred. Professor Laurence had witnessed something similar once before among his own students, and that experience made it easier for him to accept what he had seen today without too much resistance.
That must be what happened with young master Elliot as well.
He had heard, moreover, that the boy had recently suffered a severe illness nearly fatal, by all accounts. That, no doubt, was the cause.
What was once a misfortune has become a blessing.
The professor wasted no time in formally requesting an audience with the Duke of Nert. Given his reputation, and the particular regard in which the duke held him, the request was granted at once.
"Welcome, Professor Laurence."
"It has been some time, Your Grace."
After the customary exchange of pleasantries that nobility invariably traded with one another, the duke came directly to the point.
"Now then what brings you here?"
"It concerns the young master."
"The eldest? Or the youngest?"
"The youngest, Your Grace."
At the mention of the youngest, the duke's brow furrowed slightly. At their meeting a month prior, Professor Laurence had given Elliot a rather precarious evaluation and given that the boy had been ill since then, one would have expected his skills to have diminished, not improved.
"Go on."
"I understand he has been quite unwell of late, and that his practice has suffered considerably as a result. By rights, his skills ought to have grown rusty and yet he has changed entirely."
"Changed?"
"Yes, Your Grace. At sixteen years of age, if he were to enter society now, he would be spoken of as a prodigy. What young master Elliot is capable of at the piano right now simply defies common sense."
The Duke of Nert felt a mingling of relief and curiosity at Professor Laurence's words. Elliot had always been, to the duke, something like a finger that ached one he could not ignore.
"How thoroughly does it defy common sense?"
"In terms of swordsmanship, Your Grace, it would be comparable to standing at the threshold of the Sword Master realm."
It was precisely the right analogy for a man who had spent his entire life in the company of the sword, with little regard for the arts.
"S Sword Master?"
"The piano does not divide its levels as clearly as the sword, Your Grace. But if one were to put it in those terms, that would be the most accurate description."
The duke realized then that Professor Laurence was, unusually for him, in a state of some excitement. But it was not difficult to understand. In matters of art, a student's exceptional talent reflected well upon the teacher in both tangible and intangible ways.
Though in Laurence's case, no doubt, it is Elliot's growth itself that pleases him more than any personal benefit.
Whether "growth" was quite the right word for what had occurred was another matter entirely.
"Which brings me to my proposal, Your Grace. What would you think of expanding the stage?"
"Expanding the stage."
"If I am not mistaken, the young master's social debut is planned to take place at a party hosted by the ducal household?"
"That is correct."
"Under ordinary circumstances, that would have been appropriate. But with the skill he now possesses, it seems a waste."
The duke nodded. He did not doubt Professor Laurence's eye for talent but it was too much to simply act on impulse without giving the matter careful consideration.
"I will give it serious thought. Today's counsel is duly noted."
Around that same time, Elliot was shut away in his room, turning over in his mind the strange thing that had just occurred.
What on earth was that?
The piano.
The memories of an old man he had never known.
The strange lines of text.
The fingers that had moved on their own.
Good grief.
His head ached with it.
Though given that he had died and returned to the past, perhaps something of this nature was not so remarkable after all.
What was it that appeared earlier? The System?
It had appeared and disappeared of its own accord, and was nowhere to be seen now. From Professor Laurence's reaction earlier, it seemed to be something visible only to his own eyes.
Would it just appear again already!
The instant that thought crossed Elliot's mind, a translucent window floated up once more in the empty air.
Hm?
[ System]
It had actually appeared.
Taken aback, Elliot found himself instinctively wishing it would disappear again and it did, just like that.
Ah.
He was beginning to get the feel of it. He called for it again in his mind, and the system window rose before him once more.
So then what am I supposed to do with it now?
The floating window offered no further response. No matter how he turned the matter over in his mind, all that appeared was the single line: [ System]. Growing frustrated, Elliot gave it a punch.
Hm?
And that, it seemed, produced a reaction.
[ System]
[Elliot Nert]
[Piano]
Elliot nodded to himself and began pressing at the various entries with his fingers, one by one.
So that is how it works.
Each entry opened when pressed, one after another.
[ System]Allows the user to read and reproduce the memories of objects.Insufficient qualifications. Further information cannot be accessed at this time.
[Elliot Nert]Age 16Master of the System (EX)One Who Has Defied Time (EX)
[Piano (S)]Allows the user to read and reproduce the memories of the piano.Any piano may be handled with mastery, and emotion may be breathed into the performance.All manner of corrections are applied to anything related to the piano.*Through the tutorial reward, Rank S has been attained.*Further growth beyond this point will require enlightenment.
[Help]
Elliot was at a loss for words. What in the world was the supposed to be?
Elliot Nert that is certainly me.
So the strange thing that had happened earlier was connected to this ability that had appeared out of nowhere.
What on earth is this.
Elliot brought his finger to the Help entry.
[Help][The System assists the user.]
And his expression soured immediately. He had pressed Help expecting something actually useful and it had been of absolutely no use whatsoever.
No, but what exactly is the System supposed to be?
Help, indeed.
Not a single bit of help.