Obituary 8

Chapter 8

***

But…….

It was she who had succumbed to those trivial words, married into this wretched foreign land, and now sat in a mansion where even the parlor seemed several times larger than the Boltons' house.

In the end, Mother had won.

‘There wasn’t much else I could do anyway.’

Rose ended this unpleasant recollection with the thought she always had.

The persistent tendonitis had prevented her from debuting as a pianist, and she had received confirmation that composing, as her mother had boldly declared, was not her path either.

All the will and passion that had existed in her life vanished after that.

So choosing this marriage was half resignation, half stubbornness—a way to see if her mother was right, if this truly would be the best choice of Rose's life.

"Come to think of it, Sophia, it's been quite a while since you played the piano for us. Play something."

Beth's cheerful voice cut through the gloomy recollection, pulling Rose back to reality.

Judging by her awkward tone, Beth had clearly resolved to ensure the topic of Bolton never surfaced again in this gathering.

"Why don't you play first, Beth? I'm curious how effective Miss Gordon's passionate teaching has been."

"Sophia, really. You're just setting me up to be humiliated since my sister's playing after me."

Beth's heartfelt grumbling relaxed the stiff expressions on the faces of those seated in the drawing room, bringing smiles to their lips.

"Hmm. What difference does it make if you play after Countess Greenwood? It'd be better to go first."

Ray Crawford interjected with a slight tilt of his head and a voice devoid of inflection, causing Beth to burst out in irritation.

"Oh, really!"

Seeing her brother chuckle at her frustration felt unfamiliar.

Seeing him, always the same in everything—not just his attire, but his mood and demeanor perpetually consistent—made one doubt he even had emotions. Yet, occasionally when teasing his sister, he seemed like an ordinary person.

“No, Beth. It’s worth a try. Sophia hasn’t been playing the piano much lately. Even when I place sheet music on the music stand every morning, she ignores it completely.”

Count Greenwood, Sophia's husband, chimed in with surprising earnestness.

"He thinks I'm some kind of piano machine. He's always telling me to play. Even my brothers don't make me do that."

"It's because your piano playing sounds so good. What good is letting that talent go to waste?"

It felt as if affection overflowed, dripping onto the floor.

Unlike the Crawfords, who thought playing the piano well was utterly unimportant in life, the Count of Greenwood seemed to genuinely enjoy his wife's playing.

Once again, memories of her mother invaded Rose's mind. The image of her mother growing increasingly agitated and displeased the more Rose devoted herself to the piano.

The existence of this beautiful, radiant woman named Sophia Greenwood was stirring up Rose in an unwelcome way.

"Sophia doesn't even need sheet music, does she?"

Not needing sheet music? It seemed the praise about her skill was true after all.

"Does Rose play the piano too?"

Sophia turned her head and asked Rose with a light smile.

"......Just enough to read the sheet music."

Thankfully, this time no one else from Crawford chimed in.

If they started saying things like she played well enough to teach children, she truly wouldn't have been able to bear it.

"It would be lovely to play together sometime! There are so many beautiful duets."

Responding in a bright voice, Sophia gently smoothed her skirt hem, rose from her seat, and approached the piano.

"Wow. It's been ages since I played Crawford's piano."

Sophia caressed the piano with affectionate eyes, as if greeting a long-lost friend.

"Hmm. What should I play?"

After testing the sound by pressing a few keys, Sophia turned her head toward Rose.

"Rose. Do you know any pieces? If there's something you'd like, I'll play it for you."

There were many pieces she knew, many she had loved, but for some reason, none came to mind now. Perhaps she didn't want to remember them. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to hear the piano sound.

"……Nothing in particular."

Agatha's expression stiffened slightly at Rose's flat reply, followed by a warning glance.

Rose wondered what the problem was.

Should she have answered more elaborately? Or was it that, while music might not be her profession, knowing at least one song was part of their refinement?

"Is that so? Then I'll play a song Agatha likes for the first time in ages."

Sophia, however, merely smiled faintly, as if it were no big deal, placed her hands on the keys, and straightened her posture.

The soft first note was followed by a languid melody that enveloped the drawing room.

The moment Rose recognized the piece, the rhythm immediately shifted to a lively tempo.

The exotic dance tune in the style of the Planto Kingdom flowed effortlessly from Sophia’s fingertips.

While the others in the parlor smiled, enjoying the melody, Rose stared blankly, overcome with shock.

This piece, boasting both poetic elegance and the characteristic lightness of a Planto dance tune, was terrifyingly difficult to play, unlike how effortlessly enjoyable it was to listen to.

It was astonishing enough that she could play this piece at all, but the fact that she had memorized it was unbelievable.

With her tendonitis worsening, Rose couldn't even play this piece at its original tempo now. Her hands no longer moved like that, in that manner.

Sophia was now playing the piece's ornate middle section, filled with all manner of dazzling arpeggios¹ and trills², without a single mistake, so easily, so effortlessly.

As if playing a basic exercise with no key signature, as if it were nothing, as if it required no effort at all.

It was the most beautiful performance of this piece Rose had ever heard.

Completely overwhelmed by a beauty and perfection that seemed beyond comparison, Rose listened, holding her breath.

Every single note Sophia played brought Rose's own lack back to life.

She couldn't help but wonder.

If she could play this well, would her mother still have opposed it? Even if Rose possessed this talent, would her mother have so easily dismissed her entire life?

Even when Sophia finally struck the final staccato and received the audience's applause, Rose couldn't move a finger.

"Rose."

Perhaps seeing Rose just sitting there seemed rude, because Beth quietly called her name.

Only then did Rose barely snap back to her senses and manage to clap a few awkward times.

"What do you think?"

Sophia, stepping down from the piano stool and adjusting her dress, flashed Rose a bright smile.

What do I think?

"…… Why."

Rose opened her mouth as if spellbound.

"You didn't debut as a pianist, did you?"

At Rose's question, Sophia blinked in apparent fluster, and at the same moment, Agatha called out Rose's name in a high-pitched voice.

"Is that a compliment?"

Sophia’s awkward smile as she asked back filled Rose with an indescribable sense of misery.

Does this woman even know what she possesses?

How... could she possess what Rose had yearned for her entire life, yet be satisfied with casually dismissing it in this aristocratic drawing room, to people like these who don't even realize how extraordinary it is?

"You play the piano more beautifully than anyone I've ever seen."

"Oh, Rose, you're such a tease."

Sophia giggled as if amused by the praise Rose stammered out, forcing it down despite her churning stomach.

"Well, His Majesty the King did say my playing was the finest. But he favors me so much, one shouldn't take his words at face value. But Rose’s words must be sincere, so it feels nice.”

The more casually Sophia brushed it all off, the more suffocating it felt.

"Rose!"

Just as Rose opened her mouth to say something else, Agatha’s shrill voice rang out once more.

Seeing all eyes turn to her, Agatha looked flustered—she must have shouted without realizing it.

But her fluster lasted only a moment. True to her status as a lady of Orthuran, she immediately cleared her throat and offered a composed smile.

"Shall we step downstairs for a moment? Mrs. Selma asked me to check that everything was in order before dinner. I just remembered."

Mrs. Selma was the housekeeper at Crawford Manor. As a seasoned housekeeper responsible for everything in the house, she hardly needed such confirmation, but Rose silently followed Agatha out.

Sure enough, the moment they descended the stairs, Agatha began scolding Rose in a deliberately low voice.

"Rose, why on earth didn’t you hear what I said! Didn't we settle the whole 'career' discussion this morning? A pianist! Are you telling Countess Greenwood to become a clown?"

The dream Rose had cherished her entire life could be seen as an insult by someone else.

Rose was using every ounce of strength just to endure the misery and humiliation she couldn't even properly explain, leaving her unable to retort to Agatha.

***

1) A chord played not all at once, but in a pattern ascending or descending, or moving up and down.

2) An ornamental note played rapidly, alternating between a note and the note a second above it, to extend the note and create a wavy sound.

3) In sheet music, an instruction to play each note distinctly, as if cutting them off one by one.