Chapter 82
The theme of this year’s competition was, ‘Melody of Love that Never Dies.‘
The piece I chose to perform is a suite composed by my father, which is divided into four chapters.
It is a challenging work that requires not only the technical skills of the performer, but also deep emotional expression.
These days of hard training have helped me to memorise the nuances between each note and phrase.
I was determined to play it perfectly, despite Aria’s best endeavours in playing it as well.
e first movement began with a sweet, tender melody, like a whispered conversation between lovers.
Each note flowed into the next, gentle and warm, capturing the innocence of newfound love.
My fingers danced over the keys, coaxing the melody to life, letting it fill the room with its soft, lilting tones.
The audience was silent, their attention rapt as the music wrapped around them, drawing them into the story it told.
Suddenly, my tempo picked up and the chords became more complex, like a storm falling, reminding us of the second movement.
Orlando named the second movement ‘Life is Calling‘ because it tells the story of the love and anxiety he felt when I was born.
As the music flowed out of my hands, the corners of my eyes moistened and I could feel Orlando on the jury table looking at me with loving tenderness.
He had written his life into the suite, and he had given me a piece of music with such an important meaning to play.
Because of this, I couldn’t fail to live up to this expectation.
The third movement that follows is even darker and more brooding as it tells the story of lovers separated by fate.
As I played, I could almost feel the weight of that eternal separation, and with my playing I let this emotion flow from my soul to the audience.
The audience all held their breath as they waited for the last movement.
What would I play on the piano in the fourth movement?
Will it be a counterattack in the face of destiny, or will it be a crushing defeat?
At the beginning of the fourth movement, however, I eased my fingers at this point, and no one expected a return to the theme of love in the last
movement.
The final movement was a triumph, a celebration of love in its purest, most selfless form. It spoke of a love that transcended personal desire, a love for the world and for music itself.
The notes were powerful, the rhythm strong and unwavering.
As I played, I felt a sense of release, of joy and gratitude for everything that had brought me to this moment.
The music swelled to its climax, filling the room with its brilliance, and then, finally, it was over.
The last note hung in the air for a heartbeat before fading into silence.
The room was still, as if the audience was holding its breath, caught in the lingering emotion of the performance.
Then, slowly, the applause began.
It was tentative at first, as though the audience was still processing what they had just heard.
But it quickly grew into a roaring ovation, the sound of it filling the hall with an energy that took my breath away.
I stood, my heart pounding, and bowed deeply to the audience.
** I Amogod the World the Cold Alpha Regretted
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Chapter 82
The applause was deafening, a wave of sound that seemed to shake the very walls.
As I straightened, my eyes found Aria’s face in the crowd.
Her smug smile had vanished, replaced by a look of disbelief and anger.
I couldn’t resist the urge to smile back at her, a small, victorious curve of my lips.
I had won, despite her attempts to sabotage me.
From the judges‘ table, Orlando was leading the applause.
His eyes met mine, and I saw the pride in his gaze, the unspoken acknowledgment of what I had just accomplished.
miled back at him, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the applause.
I had done it.
I had played the piece from my heart, and I had won not just the competition, but also my father’s approval.
As I stepped off the stage, my legs felt like they might give out beneath me.
The emotional toll of the performance was heavy, and my mind was still spinning, as though I had truly lived through the experiences the music had portrayed.
I saw Leo waiting for me backstage, and he looked at me with very complicated eyes.
“You know what? The way you play the piano reminds me of something.”
Leo stared at me, “The way you just played the piano reminded me of someone. I don’t know why, but I always associate you with that mysterious pianist Monologue“.”
I froze, was Leo sensing something?
I wasn’t ready to reveal my identity to him.
Just as I was getting a little flustered, Leo pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly.
