Chapter 18
***
The faint piano music grew louder. Celeste's steps became more deliberate.
"Here."
Celeste whispered, stopping in front of a small door next to the music room. It was the clock room. Attached to the music room, the clock room was the musicians' lounge and a place to store their clothes and bags. It was a cramped space, about five square meters, but it had everything he needed: a light, a mirror, and a table.
"You can wait here and serve Mr. Richter tea when he arrives. The Master will have his own anyway, so you just need to take care of Mr. Richter."
Celeste added deliberately, knowing that Dana had more difficulty with Theodore than anyone else. Dana nodded, and Celeste tilted her ear toward the music room, as if trying to gauge something.
"...Just in time, they’ll be done soon," she said, and started toward the folding doors. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"...Yes."
It was easier said than done to offer tea and warm words to a stranger, but the prospect of going to Belvida encouraged Dana.
"I'll stay out then. No need to be so nervous."
Celeste slid one of the folding doors open and slipped out as quietly as a ghost. Through the opening, the interior of the music room was visible. The first thing Dana saw was the piano. It was a huge piano, much bigger than the one in Belvida. A man named Nicola Richter was furiously pounding the keys in front of it.
He was an exotic-looking young man with a slender frame and a pale, lean face. A few steps away was Theodore, sitting in a single-seater wing chair. His long legs rested on the stool and he leaned back against the backrest, looking very dull and bored.
Dana's gaze shifted back to the pianist, whose eyes were closed, completely absorbed in his playing. His long, slender fingers moved excitedly, producing a passionate melody. How could the man look so bored in front of someone who was playing so passionately?
Dana blinked a few times at Theodore, then ducked again. The memory of catching him off guard and coming face-to-face with him came back to her. Dana found an angle and direction that would never be noticed, then crept over and squatted down. Once she was safe, she turned her attention back to the piano.
She didn't want to repeat the same mistake, but she also didn't want to miss the opportunity to see the piano performance up close. The piece the pianist was playing was wild and intense, yet full of virtuosity. It was a very impressive and different experience for Dana, who only remembered hearing calm chamber music in the garden. Add to that the artist's unique performance and her heart began to pound.
The performance was at its peak. The pianist became one with the music, and Dana found herself holding her hand to her chest. BANG. The pianist slammed his fingers down on the keys, his jet-black hair falling in random strands across his forehead. When he finally finished, Dana almost jumped up and clapped. She suddenly understood why people were so enthusiastic about the piano. Celeste walked over to the pianist, her face beaming with excitement.
"That was amazing," she said, "I guess they don't call you a rising star for nothing."
Theodore remained unresponsive. He didn't even clap when the pianist stood up and bowed. Far from being offended, the pianist wiped the sweat from his brow and bowed to him. Dana swallowed hard, feeling pity for him even more.
"Come on, let's get you some rest."
Celeste led him to the clock room. Dana, scrambling to her feet, pulled the tray along. A moment later, the pianist appeared through the folding doors. Dana smiled softly at the exhausted-looking man.
"Have a seat over there," she said, leading him to a chair and then turning and closing the door behind her.
"Hi..."
Dana greeted, and Nicola, who was about to sit down in the chair, followed suit with a shuffle to a standing position. The way he kept his head down, unable to look her in the eye, was instantly recognizable: He might be a talented pianist, but he seemed to be on the same level as Dana when it came to socializing.
"Is milk tea okay?"
Dana asked, and the man awkwardly replied, "Oh... yeah...." and sat back in his chair. He pulled out another handkerchief and pressed it to his temples, looking tired. How hard could it have been to be in front of such an uncomplimentary man?
Dana began to make the tea, feeling a strange sense of sympathy for Nicola. As she poured the milk, she was reminded that Celeste was watching her now. Just before coming here, she had told her to tell her something about the tea leaves, their origins, their characteristics, or a funny story if she thought things might get awkward.
"Oh, this is... a tea called Earl Grey...." Gathering up her scattered courage, Dana stammered. "They say it goes very well with milk. There's also a tea called... Asam... that's good too...."
The young man wiping his sweat glanced up to face Dana. His excellent performance helped Dana relax, and she smiled in gratitude, not just because of Celeste's terms.
"I... have just learned to blend... so I don't know if you'll like it...."
Dana spoke sincerely, and Celeste's eyes widened in relief. "Then I will go to the Master. Take care of Mr. Richter for me."
Celeste bade her farewell with a light hug and disappeared back toward the music room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Dana alone with her first guest.
* * *
Once out of the music room, Celeste went straight to Theodore. Theodore was staring down at the paper with Nicola Richter’s bio on it, his eyes impassive.
"I made it straight, since you seem to be enjoying it so much lately." Celeste handed him a teacup. Theodore sniffed it. "It's from a place called Qimun, and I hear it's very popular among enthusiasts these days."
"...Not bad."
Celeste smirked at the bland answer.
"When will I ever hear the word 'excellent' from you?"
"I'm sure you're no more stingy than your master."
"...From the sounds of it."
Unlike the stony Dana, Celeste was uninhibited and natural.
"By the way, how was it? Mr. Richter."
"Again, not 'excellent', I'm afraid." He leaned back in his seat. "Some say he's a great pianist, comparable to Eniovich."
"Well, he's very popular among the young ladies, with that... what shall I say? When you see a man like that, with his hands on the keys, pounding away furiously... it's breathtaking."
"......."
"I hear similar comments about you, Master. When a young man who looks so graceful he doesn't seem to break a sweat rides wildly and swings his mallet, women melt."
Theodore shrugged.
"Lord Macmillan told me to look at looks as much as skill, and frankly, if I had to choose between a genius pianist with talented hands and that Nicola... it's the latter. If you're on the fence about whether or not to patronize him, consider that, too."
"......."
"I'm just saying, you might regret it later when the price goes through the roof."
Celeste continued her praise of Nicola, whether the rude, arrogant man listened or not. Theodore, not one to disrespect his mother's maidservant, listened cursorily and picked up his teacup. As he lifted it to his mouth, he glanced up at Celeste as if suddenly remembering something.
"But why are you still here?"
"What?"
He gestured toward the clock room.
"Wasn't that your motto, give a ragged beggar a cup of tea and send him on his way?"
Celeste smirked, knowing what he meant.
"That child is taking over."
"The child?"
"I'm talking about Dana."
Theodore’s icy blue eyes suddenly clouded over.
"So she's been here since earlier? While Nicola was playing?"
"Yes." Celeste smiled lasciviously. "I made a big deal about being nice to him, but I didn't have to, because she's not much of a talker in front of us, but in front of Nicola, well, she's all smiles, and she asks him little questions like, 'Do you like milk tea?' And how cute is that...."
Celeste continued, feeling unnecessarily excited. "I mean, what girl wouldn't love a handsome pianist?"
There was a crackle and a grinding sound. Theodore had set his teacup down. Celeste thought something was a little off, but shrugged it off.
"The more I look at her, the prettier she gets, that girl Dana. At first I thought she was a bit dull and slow, and I didn't understand why Lady Liana would choose her..."
"...."
"But she's got a certain charm about her. She's got a pretty face, and her voice is so sweet."
Theodore's head slowly turned to the closed door. It was a completely different look than Celeste's. He stared at the closed door, then slowly opened his mouth.
"Celeste," he said, and Celeste glanced up from her eager chatter. "Bring me Nicola Richter."
She blinked a few times. There was something odd about the sound of his voice, like he was chewing on something, but there was no reason for it, so she shrugged it off.
"Understood."
A moment later, Celeste's light strides paused by the door. Then a soft, light knock echoed through the hall.
"Mr. Richter, if you'll excuse me."
"...Yes, please come in."
It was a far cry from the cautious Dana, who was afraid her breath might escape. Celeste pushed the folding doors wide open in one swift motion. Whirr. Like the curtain opening on a stage, the interior was brightly lit.
Nicola looked up with his teacup in his hand, and Dana looked back at her. The smiles on their faces faded as quickly as they had appeared, like they'd been caught doing something bad.
"Mr. Richter, my Master would like you to join him, at least in the eyes of one of the men."
"Oh, is that so?"
Nicola’s face flushed with color. It was only natural that he should be patronized. Dana was different, though, and her face instantly darkened, a hint of unease in her eyes.
"Follow me."
Celeste, who had been walking ahead, glanced back as if remembering something.
"...You're coming, aren't you?"
Dana froze in her tracks, her feet still frozen. "Get some of the things you have in there."
Dana squeezed her eyes shut, then grabbed the tray and followed them. Celeste was giddy with excitement at what was happening.
"By the way, how did you like Miss Bodan’s tea? You shouldn't feel bad about the apprentice, by any chance. She's not just a maid, she might be the next Duchess of Macmillan's personal maid."
Celeste narrowed her eyes at Dana as she said that.
“I'm in the process of training her."
"Yes, I've heard."
Nicola replied and smiled. They laughed and chatted some more, but Dana heard nothing. Her heart tightened with fear, as it always did when she stood before Theodore MacMillan, and her vision grew blurry. She turned her head to look out the window. She could feel an aura of barely suppressed anger from the cold, sleek figure.
Was he angry? Dana's nerves began to flutter uneasily. Through the thump, thump, thump of her pulse, she could still hear Celeste's excited voice.
"I'll get you a fresh cup of tea, though, because milk tea goes cold in the blink of an eye."
"Oh, that's okay, there's no need...."
The 'no' was about to follow.
"Get the drinks ready, Celeste."
They all flinched at the sudden interruption.
"Nicola is going to have a drink with me."
"Oh...."
The unasked-for assumption was enough to make Nicola flinch. But to the poor artist, "patron" was the equivalent of "absolute power."
"I'd be honored," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upward nervously. Suddenly, Dana realized: Why had she thought that this man's mood would be directed at her? Maybe the bored cat had found a new favorite plaything.
"Come on, sit down, it's a day like this that calls for a toast."
Celeste clapped her hands together to lighten the mood; she was all too familiar with how cranky the sole heir to the MacMillan name could be.
"...Shall we have champagne? I hear there's a great vintage on the Shore...."
"Whiskey." Theodore replied, cuttingly. Strangely too stiffly, while looking at Nicola. "Artists patronized by my family drink very well.”
Nicola’s pupils flickered at the last part, the air currents surrounding them beginning to tighten. Celeste opened her mouth in confusion, then said, "Yes, I'll pick something good."
With that, she left the music room. The door slammed shut. Dana felt her hands break out in sweat. How she'd wished the world would know about the man's atrocities before she came here, but now, looking down at the confused Nicola, she wanted to take it back. Watching someone else be harmed was almost as painful as being harmed herself.
Theodore's eyes were calm as he stared down his opponent. But it was filled with the leisure and disdain of one looking down from above. Nicola looked down into his teacup as if thinking about something, then blinked as if to shake it off. When he looked up again, he seemed to have made up his mind.
"...How did you like...the performance?"
Theodore didn't answer right away. He stared off into space, as if he hadn't heard anything, and then suddenly turned to Dana with a flick of his eyes.
"How was it?"
Dana felt something catch in her throat.
"How was it?"
Dana wiped her dry lips with her tongue and finally opened her mouth.
"Mmm, it was... very... excellent... performance...."
Theodore folded and crossed his long legs.
"What, how much, how?"
Dana's mind went white again as the words rushed past her.
"...I...I...I...it's...."
"Miss Bodan says it's the first time she's ever heard the piano playing." Nicola, who had been watching, interrupted. "How can she give a specific critique of the piece and the performance if she's never heard it before?"
Theodore's mouth twitched into a light smile. But his eyes said something else entirely. If he could crush a man with a glance, that would be it.
"In any case, I'm honored that you enjoyed my performance. To be recognized by the Macmillan family, even if it's not just because of the monetary sponsorship, is a huge thing."
Dana's mind flashed back to Theodore, who had looked bored to death during the entire performance. Hadn't Nicola realized yet that he'd fallen prey to a vicious game?
"Master, I've brought drinks."
Celeste returned. Liquor, glasses, and fruit were placed on the table. Theodore filled a glass and set it down in front of Nicola, then filled his own.
"You're from Vorz, aren't you?"
"Yes.”
“I spent the last St. Michael's Day there, and it was beautiful."
A faint smile appeared on Nicola’s face. There was anticipation in his eyes, like he was about to have a conversation.
"You know how they say you have to swallow your first drink in one gulp, all at once?"
Theodore said, downing his glass in one swift gulp. Then he filled it again and gulped it down. Dana's eyes widened. She'd never tried it, but she'd heard that whiskey burned the esophagus, and yet he downed two glasses without batting an eyelash. It wasn't like he was drinking alcohol, it was like he was drinking venom.
Ding. He set the glass down. She thought that would be the end of it, but he poured another shot and raised his glass and said.
"Three times."
He poured another shot. Dana wasn't the only one surprised. Nicola and Celeste stared at him, breathless. Theodore set his glass down again and shot Nicola a cold look. It was a strong command to do the same.
"......."
Unable to resist the intense stare, Nicola slowly raised his glass, closed his eyes tightly, opened them, and swallowed hard. Mmm... His mouth was clamped shut, and it sounded like a groan. Theodore refilled his empty glass as if waiting for him. Dana felt so sorry for Nicola; it was clear from his fluttering pupils that he was not a good drinker. His trembling hand gripped the second glass tightly once, then reluctantly popped it into his mouth.
"Haa...."
A pained sob escaped Nicola’s throat.
"Not bad, huh?"
Theodore chuckled lightly and poured another drink. Nicola stared at him, then lowered his eyes to his glass. His jet-black pupils, staring down into the filled brown liquid, were a complex mix of confusion, misgivings, and resignation.
"......."
The last of the three glasses. Nicola swallowed it all down and ended up coughing up a gulp. Celeste's face was filled with disbelief.
"You deserve to be a Macmillan, after all."
Theodore smirked and leaned back leisurely. They say there's a monster that feeds on human blood and delights in pain... and Dana felt like the man in front of her was just that. Still, she thought it would stop there, but to her disbelief, Theodore refilled an empty glass again. Both his and Nicola’s.
"To the beautiful traditions of Vorz," he said, raising his glass in a toast. Despite his graceful gesture, his eyes looked like he was about to kill someone with hard liquor.
***
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