Following its initial renovations, the slums' streets were much cleaner. The once-ubiquitous piles of garbage and pools of sewage had vanished, replaced by patrolling members of the Workers' Party Action Team and residents whose hurried faces now carried a hint of hope.
Lacey led Arturia to the Workers' Party headquarters. By the entrance, the party's flag—a crossed sickle and axe—hung, fluttering gently in the wind.
All eyes fell upon the girl in the black dress holding a cello.
Her entire demeanor was at odds with everything here.
Taylor was with a team of pickets, moving newly arrived lumber. Seeing Lacey, he put the wood down, wiped the sweat from his brow with a rough sleeve, and strode over.
"Boss, you're back. And this is?" His gaze swept over Arturia.
"Arturia, an artist," Lacey introduced her simply. "Starting today, she's one of us."
The introduction caused a small stir among the crowd.
An artist?
They needed blacksmiths and carpenters, men who could fight. What could a girl who played an instrument possibly do?
Lacey paid no mind to the whispers. He patted Taylor's shoulder, about to give him a few instructions.
But Arturia moved past him, walking directly up to Serafina, who had come over after hearing the commotion.
"Your heart is very real," Arturia said, tilting her head as she looked at her.
Serafina was stunned.
As an expert at perceiving the emotions of others, she was used to "reading" people. This was the first time anyone had ever "read" her so bluntly.
"Alright," Lacey's voice cut in, breaking the standoff between the two.
"Taylor, show Miss Arturia around first. Find a clean room and get her settled in."
"Her cello is very valuable, so be careful."
"You got it, Boss."
Taylor scratched his head. Though he didn't understand the situation, carrying out orders was his duty.
He gave Arturia a simple, honest smile. "This way, Miss Artist."
Arturia said nothing more, following behind Taylor with her cello.
Only when their figures disappeared around the corner of the warehouse did Serafina pull her gaze back. She looked at Lacey and said:
"Lacey, that girl is dangerous."
"I've never met anyone like her. Her heart is a whirlwind of chaos. I can't see through it, but my gut tells me she's going to be a huge problem."
"I know," Lacey replied calmly.
He paused for a moment before continuing, "Our cause needs all kinds of talent. Her abilities are unique. If used correctly, their value will be immeasurable."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."
Seeing that Lacey's mind was made up, Serafina didn't press him further.
She knew Lacey; he never did anything he wasn't certain about.
All she could do was bury her unease deep in her heart.
"Any news from Miss Gertrude?" Lacey changed the subject.
Serafina quickly composed herself and took a folded note from her pocket. "Heinrich sent word. Miss Gertrude has agreed to your proposal and decided to come to Salem to meet you in person."
"The time is set for three in the afternoon, the day after tomorrow. The place is the Black Rye Café in the eastern part of the city."
"The owner is one of ours and completely reliable. I've already arranged to clear the place and set up security to ensure the meeting's privacy."
"Excellent." Lacey nodded, a look of approval on his face.
Serafina always handled things flawlessly, which saved him a great deal of trouble.
He turned and headed toward his office, where piles of documents and plans awaited him.
Watching Lacey's retreating back, Serafina's anxiety about the mysterious girl did not diminish.
She took a deep breath and turned toward the temporary lodging just arranged for Arturia—a small room converted from a storage closet.
When she pushed the door open, Arturia was sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully wiping down her cello.
"I think we need to talk," Serafina said, getting straight to the point.
Arturia put down the velvet cloth she was holding, looking up at her quietly without a word.
"I don't know what your purpose is in approaching Lacey, and I don't know what you mean by 'real,'" Serafina said, her tone calm.
"But I must tell you, Lacey is engaged in a cause that is incredibly important, and also incredibly dangerous."
"It concerns the fate of tens of thousands in Salem, and indeed all of Leithanien."
"I will not allow anyone, for any reason, to undermine it or harm him."
She took a step forward, looking down at Arturia, who was still seated on the bed.
She then continued, "I can sense the chaos in your heart, a power that perhaps even you cannot control."
"If you try to use it to influence Lacey, or bring any harm to our cause, I promise you, whether Lacey agrees or not, I will make you disappear from this place."
Serafina spoke these words with absolute finality.
For someone with her disposition, uttering such a harsh, near-threatening statement was unprecedented.
This wasn't just born from her personal feelings for Lacey, but from a fierce desire to protect their cause.
She had witnessed Lacey's transformation from an avenger into a leader followed by thousands, and she had seen with her own eyes the earth-shattering changes in the slums under the Workers' Party's guidance.
All of this was hard-won, and she would not permit someone of unknown origin to destroy it.
Faced with Serafina's unconcealed hostility and threats, Arturia's face showed not a flicker of fear or anger.
She even looked up with great interest, carefully studying Serafina.
"Anger, worry, loyalty, protectiveness… and an emotion you haven't even noticed yourself, called jealousy."
Cradling her cello, Arturia slowly stood up and walked over to Serafina. She tilted her head, as if admiring a work of art.
"You are so much more real than he is."
After uttering this cryptic sentence, she clutched her instrument, brushed past Serafina, and walked out of the room.
Serafina froze on the spot.
Jealousy?
She had never imagined that word could be associated with her.
Her feelings for Lacey were admiration, loyalty, the bond between comrades-in-arms…
And yet… the moment Arturia spoke that word, she found she couldn't immediately refute it with righteous conviction.
A strange sense of irritation welled up inside her.
Serafina called out to stop Arturia. "What do you know!"
"An artist like you, who has never known suffering and only plays decadent music, how could you possibly understand what we are doing!"
"You have no idea what this cause means to us, to the people struggling at the bottom!"
These words were very unlike Serafina.
She was trying to change the subject to hide her inner turmoil.
However, Arturia didn't argue with her. Instead, she stopped in her tracks and began to speak in a narrative tone.
"A long, long time ago, there was a little girl."
"She was born with the ability to hear the voices in other people's minds. Those voices were noisy and chaotic, giving her nightmares every night."
"To help her, her mother taught her to play the cello. Her mother said music was the purest language in the world, and when she focused on playing, she could block out the other noises."
"The little girl loved her mother very much. One day, through the sound of her instrument, she heard her mother's deepest, truest thought—her mother wanted to be a war correspondent."
"So, her mother left. She went to a place far away and never came back. She died in a border conflict."
"At her mother's funeral, the little girl played one last piece for her. She wanted to use music to tell her mother in heaven that she understood her choice."
"But her music made all the guests at the funeral expose their true inner selves."
"Someone was cursing her mother in their heart as a wanton madwoman, another was scheming how to seize the family's property, someone else was coveting her father's position…"
"Those relatives and friends, who were usually so sanctimonious, tore off all their disguises in the sound of her music, tearing at each other, cursing, and screaming like a pack of hideous beasts."
"That funeral turned into a farce."
Arturia's story was finished.
She didn't look at Serafina, just looked down at the cello in her arms.
"From that day on, the little girl understood."
"Lies are the very foundation upon which this world turns."
"People wrap themselves in lies to protect themselves, and also to hurt others."
"And what she has to do is use music, use her ability, to tear off these masks of lies and make everyone embrace the truth."
Serafina was silent, staring blankly at the girl before her.
"I won't hurt Lacey," Arturia said softly.
"Because he is the most unreal person I have ever met. I want to see what kind of truth is hidden in his heart."
"As for you…" Arturia looked up, meeting Serafina's eyes for the first time.
"Your truth is interesting, too."
"Don't be afraid of it, and don't deny it. That is where your true strength lies."
After saying this, she paid Serafina no more mind.
Serafina stood rooted to the spot for a long time before finally leaving the room in silence.
________________________________________
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