Disclaimer: I don't owe Eternal Sonata

CHAPTER I

RAINDROPS

Standing with her back to a cliff, the girl made up her mind and closed her eyes.

'I know this is hard for you to accept right now, but someday, someday we'll all meet again, I'm absolutely positive.'

This was the only thing she could say. Blinking back tears she fell backward off the cliff. The wind rushed past her ears as she freefell.

Thank you, everyone. I know it didn't last very long, but really, this was the best time I've ever had in my life.

This was the end. This life she had lived it straight.

There was no regret.

If I blow him a kiss, I wonder, will it reach him up there?

He must be hammering the ground, blaming his unable to do anything for her at the moment. She felt sorry for him, but this was her fate.

No, I guess it won't.

Her mind stopped here as darkness consumed her...

Four years later.

'Mummy? Why are there waves in the sea?'

Taking her mother's hand, the four-year-old girl asks. Petals from all the little flowers in the flower field take flight in the air, carried by gentle breeze.

'Well, darling. There are waves because of the moon.' Solfège looks down at her small child with love. 'The moon charms the water in the ocean with its beauty and because of the moon is so beautiful, the sea water just can't stay still.'

'Is that true? Really?'

'Really. Don't you feel your heart start fluttering inside of you when you look at the moon?'

'I do!'

The girl notices a puddle as they walk by.

'What about the puddle? Will it make waves when the moon comes out, too?'

Her question is such innocent and direct. Solfège cannot help but admire that. Only children haven't been polluted by the world may ask that.

'No dear, there's not enough water. You need lots and lots of water, like the ocean, before it can make any real waves.'

'Ohh, I see.'

The girl runs over to the puddle and peers inside. Big and round eyes, hair ties in two short braids, her reflection.

'The amount of water is the most important part of creating waves. That can be said about people, as well. There are many things in this world that can charm people's hearts, just like the moon charms the sea.'

Solfège's expression darkens.

'Things like wealth, vanity, status, image and power. People who are drawn to these create waves and the fear in their hearts makes the waves grow bigger, and stronger. The more people there are, the bigger the waves can become. And as the number of people grows, the waves grow bigger and bigger, and that can lead to terrible conflicts.'

Perhaps hearing the serious tone in her mother's voice, the little girl returns to her side. Solfège puts up a nothing-has-happened smile.

'This is probably too hard for you to understand.' She takes her child's hand and continues walking. 'But if something like that ever were to happen in your life, your only choice might be to jump into that sea. Because when you do, those big waves will calm down. It may be difficult at times, but if your try your best, you'll bring joy to all the ones you treasure.'

'Really?' The little girl raises her hand up high, as if to vow to God. 'Okay!'

Solfège continues to take her along.

'Yes, though it's insulting to compare sea water stirred by the beauty of the moon to the ugly waves of human desire.'

October 16, 1849 10:48 PM

Number 12 Place Vendôme

Paris, France

A vase of flowers settled on a table next to the grand piano. The rhythmic tick-tock of the grandfather clock echoed in the richly furnished room.

'He seems to have calmed down, hasn't he doctor? He doesn't look like he's in pain the way he did before.'

Attending the slumber of her younger brother lying in bed, Ludwika Jędrzejewicz said to the doctor besides her. Above the bedside stove laid open a book, whose owner never seemed to be able to continue reading the rest of it.

'It seems as though he must be having a pleasant dream.'

'Yes, well, that would be nice. It would be even better if that means he's headed towards recovery. A full recovery.'

The doctor leaned forward for a closer look at the man's face.

'It's said that people can have the most peaceful dreams just before they pass on.'

He deliberately avoided meeting the woman's face. Ludwika instantly cottoned on his meaning. Pulmonary tuberculosis was a common and deadly infectious disease at that time, with almost no one could escape the fate of death, but as an elder sister it was always natural to pray for the frailest thread of hope for her family member.

'What are you talking about? How can you say that?'

'I apologise. Hopefully, it's just an old wives' tale.'

Ludwika sadly looked at the sleeping face of his younger brother. The once handsome face was already withered by serious illness.

'Frédéric...'

*****

The rippling surface of flowing water transforms the soft light of the morning sun. The beams combine, becoming a spotlight that paints the stage.

On a grassy path, Polka returns from town with a basket in one arm, still fills up by bottles. The wooden sign pointed ahead read 'To Tenuto Village'.

I guess I took longer than usual.

Mum's probably worried about me. I'd better get home before it gets dark.

She starts walking up the path, headed home. The flowers awaiting the curtain's rise display faces of bright red and brilliant yellow. They turn their ears to listen to the performance that is about to begin. Accompanied by the gentle rhythm of a babbling brook, the birds being to sing. Meanwhile, a mischievous sea breeze causes a rustling amidst the leaves of the trees, disrupting the concert.

There are so many people living in Ritardando. Why won't any of them buy from me?

And now...

Saddened, she is pulled from her thoughts by the approach of a small squirrel. She crouches, holding out a hand, smiling, beckoning to it. As if sensing something, the small woodland creature turns around and flees. This discourages her even more.

I see, I guess you don't want to be touched by me either.

Watching it disappearing into a grove of bushes, Polka recalls what happened earlier on in the town...

'Come and buy some of Tenuto's famous floral powder! It works very well! Please give it a try!'

In the busy market area, Polka proudly presented her product to the town folks. Nearby a lady was selling her cart of flowers, a few young children were having a hard time deciding on where to go next, and a boy of about eight years old reasoning with a teenage boy who seemed to be his older brother.

Despite of all the people around, nearly no one paid the slightest attention to the lone powder seller. A townswoman who came out from a medicine shop noticed the small bottle in Polka's hand.

'Dear, is that floral powder you are holding?'

She's buying!

For a moment Polka thought she was finally able to make a deal in the whole week, she displayed her most welcomed smile.

'Yes! It works very well in curing wounds, madam. Would you like to try one?'

'I didn't know people still made that. What with the mineral powder we can get these days, why would I need this stuff?'

The townswoman took out a similar bottle in her shopping bag, showing it to Polka, whose high-lifted spirit gradually faded away at the sight of the golden-yellow powder.

So this is what she bought in the medicine shop...

'Now, I don't mean to be rude, honey, but floral powder just isn't useful anymore.'

Disheartened, Polka stood there. That woman perhaps sympathised with her situation rather than being sarcastic that she told the truth, hoping that this young girl would instead sell something more profitable in order to make a living.

I guess no one around here wants to buy it.

Sighed, Polka was about to try her luck somewhere else when there was a commotion at the bar opposite.

'Hey! What's that for!'

'But I didn't do anything!'

'Who d'you think you're talking to, eh?'

There was noise of glasses shattered, fists sunk into flesh, chairs being knocked down and customers screaming. Other citizens stopped their current activities and looked at the front door when a man was thrown out into the market street, heavy bruises all over his face. He laid motionless as he passed out.

Oh no...!

Polka gasped, covering her mouth. People quickly gathered around, pointing, commenting, but no one offered a helping hand. Bars were always the trouble-making place in a city. None would like to be involved.

Polka squeezed her way through the crowd to the unconscious man.

'Are you all right?'

She held her hands over his body. She could feel the gazes and whispers from the people, but she did not care. Under her summoning an orange light appeared in her palms, sparkles began to flow down to the body. The waves of whispering suddenly changed to surprised, and panic. Not before long the man mourned and could sit up again, bewildered. He then noticed the girl knelt down beside him.

'Well? Did that help? Does it feel any better?'

Polka smiled to him, who not only did not give any thanks but on the contrary became very frightened.

'S-stay away from me! Don't touch me!'

The man got up and ran away. All the bystanders quickly got away from her as well, fearfully. Among them a very small boy pointed excitedly at her.

'Wow! Did you see that, mum? She was glowing!'

He tried to walk closer for a better look, but his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

'Come back here, right now! Never go near anyone that glows like that girl did! Do you understand me?'

'But why?'

'Because I said so, that's why! Now come on!'

Alone collapsed in the street, Polka sat there, depressed...

It is a familiar scene. One that has unfolded every morning since the beginning of time. And even now, the daily overture continues, its delicate, perfect balance, never faltering, never changing. In the midst of this joyous orchestration, at the centre of the morning's discordant musical performance, lies a small village, nestled deep in the wood.

The name of the village is Tenuto. It sits atop a hill which overlooks the coastline. In fact, the town is only about four miles from the sea. Tenuto is very lucky in this regard. For the town enjoys a wonderful cool breeze, and a view that is nothing short of amazing. And then, there are the flowers. They seem to blossom almost everywhere in the town. They paint the landscape with colour as far as the eye can see. And they are the reason Tenuto is also known by another name: the 'Village of Flowers'. Under normal circumstances, one might expect to find a bustling shopping district for tourists in a village as beautiful as this one. However, no such shops are to be found. Not here. In fact, the village is quite calm. Almost strangely quiet. It is a place that exudes a peaceful tranquillity. A tranquillity that further its allure, as well as its mystery.

'I'm home.'

Polka enters her home to find her mother Solfège at the stove.

'Welcome back, Polka.' She said to Polka warmly. 'Oh, you must be exhausted. I've made us some nice hot stew.'

Her smile fades as she realises how unhappy her daughter is. Head down, Polka steps towards her mother.

'Mum, do you...'

For a moment Polka wants to keep it inside her heart, but in the end unable to hold it.

'Are you afraid to touch me?'

Solfège instantly knows what has happened.

'You used your magic in Ritardando, didn't you?'

This is not the first time already. A few times before Polka also acted the same way as this one, only that she pretended to be all right and headed back to her room.

'Why does everyone avoid me?'

Apart from discouraged, there was slight hint of anger in Polka's tone. Solfège knows that her daughter never uses harsh words. This sentence has already included her greatest indignation.

'Because, they think they'll get sick if they touch you. Even though it's not true.' Solfège puts a hand on Polka's shoulder. 'I'm living proof that it isn't true. After all, I live with you and I'm fine.'

Polka raised her head, looking at her mother.

'I'm not afraid of dying from the illness, mum. It's just, well, I'm just sad that, no matter what I do, I can't make any friends.'

'Polka...'

'Beat! Run!'

Once laden with loaves of bread, the teenage boy shouts to his young companion as he makes a break for the bakery shop entrance.

'Hold on, Retto! Wait for me!'

The both of them disappear around the corner faster than a blink. By the time the shop owner grabs her broom out of the shop both of them has vanished into the crowd.

'Hey, you! Where are you going with my bread?'

Yet she does not dare investigating further without anyone minding the store. Some other may take the chance to steal more.

'It's those brats again! Maybe I should poison the dough next time!'

Declared defeated, she retreated into her store. The two boys catch their breath from a hiding place – just around the corner.

'Oh boy. That was a close one, Retto.'

'Nah, that was easy.'

'Easy? If that's what you call easy, I'd hate to see hard.'

Retto laughs at the words.

'Don't worry. Come on, let's deliver the bread. I'm sure everybody's getting hungry.'

The two of them start walking down the street, acting as normal as they can. Beat keeps glancing around nervously, but Retto has no problem putting up an innocent look.

'I don't like the rats down there.'

'Come on, what do you expect? I mean, they live in the sewers. There's bound to be a rat or two! And plus, we're carrying fresh-baked bread. You don't have to be a rat to want a bite of this.'

'Well, what do we do if we get attacked?'

'Don't let a few rats get you all freaked out. Hey, I took care of them the last time, didn't I?

'Yeah, I guess.'

'Besides, the people lucky enough to live in houses aren't the only ones who need us to take bread to them.'

The entrance to the sewers is next to the drainage at the foot of the Mandolin Church. The boys head down to the sewers to go deliver the bread. As the name suggests, sewers are wet, damp and moist, ideal for lowly creatures like mice and cockroaches to take shelter from the surface. Yet it is already heaven for street urchins to make this place home. Rumoured to be filthy and dirty, no one dares entering this small system of tunnel maze. Retto and Beat make their way through rotted wooden boards and metal ladders, at the same time being careful not to drop their bread or themselves into the murky water.

At the end of this sewage is a relatively roomy space where some of the orphans live.

'Oi!' Retto call over to them. 'It's us.'

Bouncing along to them is a little girl called Lib.

'Thank you so much!'

'You bet. Don't eat it all at once!'

They wave goodbye and the girl runs off with the bread loaves. Retto and Beat each keeps one for themselves.

'Hey, Retto why is bread so expensive anyway? If it was a little cheaper, we wouldn't have to steal it for people. Do you think the baker lady is just being greedy?'

'Well, you know, Beat. It's not actually the baker lady's fault. The reason the bread is so expensive is the high taxes on it. It's not just bread, either. In Ritardando just about everything you need for everyday life has high taxes on it. That's why there's a lot of kids out there who can't get a decent meal to eat these days.'

'And that's why they need us to help them, right?'

'Yeah. They only thing that's not taxed is mineral powder.'

'Oh, I see. So that's why anybody can get it. Because it's so cheap. I guess the Count of Forte really isn't that bad after all. I mean, at least he keeps the tax on medicine cheap.'

Retto however seems uncertain.

'Besides, you and I have the bread problem pretty much taken care of.'

'Hey, don't get cocky. Be careful what you say, Beat. Come on.'

After a few more drop-off points, Retto and Beat's 'work' of the day is done and returns to their hideout, which is just next to the sewage system at the docks of Ritardando. Being thieves and orphans they never have enough money to rent the cheapest residence in this city. The living environment here is even worse than the sewage, but Retto resolutely refuses to move, in the hope of leaving as much and best as he can to the orphans. Nevertheless he and Beat has put in great effort in making it tidy enough to be called home – at least for now.

'Hey, Retto.' Beat asks as he takes a bit off the half piece of dried meat he shares with Retto. 'Did you notice that magician girl from yesterday wasn't around today?'

'Yeah, you're right.'

'I guess I should've taken a picture of her.'

Retto apparently loses his patient with him.

'Are you still messing around with that stuff? You need to look at things with your own two eyes. You'd see things a whole lot clearer if you didn't look at them through bent glass.'

'That's not what photography's about at all, Retto.' Beat argues back. 'And another thing: it isn't called "bent glass". It's called a lens!'

Retto knows his young companion too well that once on this matter he can never hear the end of it. He changes the subject.

'Still you have to feel sorry for that girl. I guess she won't be around for much longer.'

Beat does not get it. The way Retto puts it is like that girl will soon never come again to the city.

'What? She won't? What are you talking about?'

'Don't you know anything? That girl was able to use magic. And that means she must be sick with some kind of incurable illness. That's how it works. Basically, magic is a side effect of her disease.'

So that orange light she used back then was magic.

'And it's always fatal?'

'That's right. Yeah, only people who are gonna die soon are able to use magic like that.'

'Oh. I didn't know that.' Beat lowered his head. 'Well, I guess being able to use magic isn't that great after all.'

'No, it's not. You can't use magic powers unless you're really sick. This world's pretty messed up.'

Beat remembers the facial expression of those people at the sight of Polka when she cured the beaten-up man the day before.

'I get it. That's why no one in town wanted to get near her yesterday. They didn't want to catch her illness too.'

'Yeah, that's right. But the disease isn't actually contagious. That's just a rumour somebody started. Most of the time people don't really trust each other. But when it comes to something that they think might hurt them, they'll believe just about everything they hear. And they'll ignore almost anything else that doesn't help them directly.'

Beat makes a disappointed noise. Retto continuous to talk on, to Beat and himself.

'As long as they have food on their table, they don't care if other people out there are starving.'

This situation mirrors theirs.

'And that's why we steal bread to bring them, right?'

Retto thinks very hard on this for a long moment.

Why is only mineral powder untaxed?

I heard that it's very effective in curing, even better than that floral powder.

But why is it has to be particularly untaxed, while leaving everything else that expensive? It's as if everyone is forced to use it.

Is the Count behind this? What's his intention?

Why am I smelling a trap?

Looks like these have to be sorted out, for me, Beat and for those children who count on me!

'Okay, Beat. We leave first thing in the morning!'

What he receives from Beat is a single word. 'What?'

Tenuto's floral powder is all made from the flowers blossomed in the flower field, just next to Polka's home. There is a harbour town at the foot of a hill that can be seen from the cliff. When night falls, the lights from the town shine like diamonds, and open the hearts of those who gaze upon their illustrious splendour.

The place under the tree on the edge has always been the perfect place for watching the city lights far below, particularly at summer nights with cool breezes coming from the sea.

Why can't people look at the truth?

The event at Ritardando is still in Polka's mind, but the peaceful environment makes her feel much better than in the afternoon.

'Polka. There you are. I was wondering where you went when I didn't see you in your room.' Solfège comes up from behind. 'Ritardando certainly is beautiful at night.'

'Do you think so?' Polka does not look back at her mother. 'Somehow, when I think back on it, I get the feeling it was much more beautiful when I was a little girl.'

'Yes, well things always seem nicer in our memories. It's still just as beautiful.'

Solfège decides that it would be better letting Polka recovering her mood for a little longer. After all it is only a short walk from here to home, and she needs not worrying about her daughter's safety.

'You'll have bad dreams if you stay up too late. Don't stay too long.'

Solfège leaves while Polka remains seated. Being a harbour city Ritardando has been prosperous ever since she was born.

Is Ritardando really the same as it's always been?

Nocturnal insects are chirping. The gentle brushes of sea waves against cliff climbs up, bringing an extra scent of salty into the night grassy air. Hung on the dark sky the bright moon illuminated the sea surface as a giant mirror.

Really?

In her youth she often dreamt of going there, imagining all the extraordinary goods and people in her mind. When has the city become like what she saw today?

'No, it's not. This place used to be much more beautiful.'

The voice is deep and mature, not the one of her mother. Eyes wide, Polka looks around. Standing on her right is a tall gentleman in a long coat and top hat, a pocket watch hung on his waist. Sitting here all alone, she does not hear any footstep of this man coming just then.

'You have a heart that sees the world with open eyes, don't you?'

Looking down at Ritardando, the man says to Polka, who is totally taken aback by this stranger's sudden appearance.

'Wh-who are you? And what are you doing out here this late at night?'

'Everything in the world slowly fades with time.' The man says as though he does not hear what Polka says. 'It is very difficult to remain still, and keep things exactly as they are in just one particular moment. But because everything shifts only a little bit at a time, no one really notices the change.'

*****

11:09 PM

Ludwika continued to sit at beside.

'The things that Frédéric is seeing, is it all really just a dream?' she stood to address the doctor, who kept watch as well. 'The difference between dreams and reality may very well just be relative.'

The doctor turned to Ludwika.

'Oh? And what makes you say that?'

'Well, I don't know. I guess it just came into my mind when I was watching Frédéric's face while he was sleeping.

'That may be more true than we know. Perhaps what Mr. Chopin is experiencing is not a dream. Only the individual can determine what is a dream and what is reality. Just because his eyes are closed that does not necessarily mean he is dreaming. However... if he comes to think that the world he's in on the other side is the true reality then...'

'Then it's possible he may never return to our reality.'

*****

'Wow. So you can use magic powers, too, Frédéric?'

After introducing to each other, Frédéric sits on the edge of the cliff by Polka's side. As the words leave her mouth, Polka instantly realises that she has said something very sensitive.

'But then, that mean you're like me and that you're gonna die soon, too.'

Frédéric does not seem to mind though, as his tone remains calm and normal.

'Yes, you're right. I'm afraid that may very well be true.'

Knowing that this matter does not hurt the feeling of her new acquaintance, Polka decides that it is perhaps okay to dig deeper.

'So, what kind of magic can you use?'

'Well, essentially, any and all kinds of magic. After all, this whole world is in my dream.'

Polka giggles at his words. This world is in his dream?

'You're a strange man, Frédéric.'

If they had not had introduced and talked for a while before she would have concluded that this man is not in his right mind. Yet his gentleman-like appearance and way of talking that she feels that he is not a bad person.

Regarding Polka's reaction, Frédéric seems to have expected this.

'No, it's true. Everything around us is all a part of my dream. Even you are just a product of my imagination.'

Though explaining patiently, Polka senses the persistence in his expression, like a young child trying to convince his mother that he did not steal the candy. She smiles mischievously.

'Okay, then if what you say is true, can you tell what I'm thinking about right now? If we really are inside your dream, then reading my mind should be easy for you.'

Frédéric does not hesitate in speaking out his answer.

'Of course it is. You were thinking that you don't want to use your magical abilities in front of other people anymore. Am I correct?'

For a few seconds Polka looks shocked. Frédérick looks back at the sea, guessing that he has got the right answer.

'I don't blame you for feeling that way. No one likes to be hurt.'

He can feel Polka continues looking at him, maybe calculating how far can she trust him, or whether she should reveal that he has really read her mind, only to find her gets to her feet, smiling actually.

'Frédéric. There's something I'd really like to show you. But it's in the forest. Would you come with me?'

Frédérick does not expect her to change the subject this abrupt.

'You want me to go with you to the forest? You mean, right now?'

'Yes. Because it can only be seen at night.'

Her voice was sincere, she means it.

Perhaps I should go with her, maybe that's related to the answer as well.

'Okay, all right then.'

'My home is just over there. I'll inform my mum.'

Polka leads the way ahead while Frédéric follows. Unlike Ritardando there are very few artificial lights in Tenuto. Most of the light source they see comes from other villages' houses, and from the moon. Yet because of this they are all born to be able to see the paths without any problem in dark environment.

'Mum,' Polka opens the door and walks in, finding her mother working on the flower pot. 'I have a friend with me.'

Living in small village, usually the friends they make or visit confines within Tenuto's territory. Sometimes Polka would just bring some other playmates from her neighbourhood to stay the night, therefore Solfege does not find it strange when someone visits them this late.

'This is Frédéric.'

Frédéric? A male's name?

Solfège has never heard such name around Tenuto in her whole life. She quickly puts down the flowers and turns around. Her eyes meet the man's face. For a moment or two she looks stunned.

Why is he here?

But suddenly realising that Polka is here also she holds down her 'Oh!' in midway. Yet the first half of her utter has already reached Polka's ears.

'What's wrong, mum?'

Can't let the girl know it yet.

'What?' Solfège quickly gives Polka an assuring smile. 'Oh. It's nothing.'

Frédéric steps forward and bows to Solfège.

'Please pardon the intrusion at such a late hour.'

'Frédéric, was it? You don't look like you're from around here is that right?'

Of course, Frédéric is not even a member of this world. This is a dream world he creates. Discussing it to Polka is one thing, but others may simply consider him nuts.

'Uh, yes. A journey. I've been on a long journey searching for something.'

'I see...'

Solfège understands that her guest may have something that he does not want to say. Everyone has their own secrets, so she asks no more.

'Well, you must have travelled far to get here. Are you hungry? I'm afraid it's only leftovers, but won't you stay for dinner?'

Frédéric is certainly grateful to her hospitality, but he does not feel right giving trouble to others, especially when cooking is such a big job and he has barely known Polka more than an hour.

'Dinner? Oh, I couldn't...'

'My mum's stew is delicious, you should stay and try it!'

Seeing Polka's enthusiastic insist, it will then be impolite if he turns down the offer.

'Well, then, I accept your kind offer.'

'Mum, I'm taking Frédéric to the Forest. Is that okay?'

The 'Forest' Polka talks about is the one at the back of Tenuto, Heaven's Mirror Forest. Forests are seldom safe at night time with all the residents haunt around. Though at the age of fourteen, Polka is still like a little girl in wanting to share what she likes and knows to her friends, and Solfège knows that better than anyone. If she objects then Polka will be very disappointed then?

'Be careful and don't go too far.'

'Thank you mum! Let's go, Frédéric!'

Polka opens the door and gesture Frédéric to go with her. Frédéric raised his hat at Solfège as she closes the door after them.

He's finally here.

What will happen to Polka this time?

Solfège's mind is occupied by questions as she begins to prepare the meal at the stove.

Usually speaking of forests many would immediately link to scariness, insecure and danger, but this does not seem to be applicable to this one. Flowers and plants in this lush forest sparkle and glow, giving the beautiful wooded area an unearthly light, as if guiding and blessing the travellers the correct pathway. The more Frédéric walks, the more he thinks this is the place where fairies or spirits live.

Occasionally there are distant sounds of nocturnal animals, may be owls or crickets, performing the natural concert of Mother Nature. Different from the music he used to play, but they have their own charms to the ears.

At one point on their way which is too dark to go on, Polka stops and allows her retinae to adjust to the level of darkness before moving on. Frédéric waits beside her.

'By the way, the question you asked me earlier, you never told me if I answered it correctly.'

Polka tilts her head.

'Hmm?'

'Of course, this is all a story I've created in my head. So there's no way I could possibly be wrong.'

He taps his chin thoughtfully, believing confidently that Polka is simply trying to avoid being spoken out her thinking, but Polka has already gone on ahead.

'Over there, come on, it's almost time. Hurry, Frédéric!'

Frédéric looks around and discovers that Polka has headed off without him.

'Wait!'

Frédéric catches up with her. The thickness of the forest begins to grow thin along the two sides. The end of the forest leads to an open area, revealing the cloudless night sky. Covering all over the ground in front of them are somewhat purple blossoms.

'These flowers are what I wanted to show you. Look at them. They're about to blossom!'

Flowers that bloom during night but not the day?

Frédéric has never heard of such thing before, but nevertheless he follows Polka's eyesight and tries to watch for anything coming up.

Then, slowly, but surely, one of the blossom nearby awakens, unfolding purple petals and letting out a sparkling, brilliant light within the bud. As if dropping a ripple in water, the same kind of lights being to float up into the air. Soon the once desolate land is carpeted by glowing purple and white. The view is spectacular and so mysterious, like all the flowers are blinking at them.

'What... what are they?'

Stunned at such beautiful scene, Frédéric takes a step forward. Ritardando is pretty all right, but it is manmade, artificial. This field, these flowers, are completely born from the earth, yet go even farther.

'They're called Heaven's Mirror. They're like a reflection of the starry sky on the meadows. This is the only place they bloom in the forest. These flowers never bloom during the day. Only at night.'

So that is how the name 'Heaven's Mirror Forest' comes. Flowers being active in the night time is strange enough, blooming altogether at the same time like they have telepathic connection among themselves is even weirder.

'When the sun is up, they stay in their buds. But they're able to absorb sunlight with their leaves. And after night falls, they let out all the light they've stored, when they blossom. It always happens exactly two o'clock in the morning.'

No matter what, this scenery is just too marvellous that Frédéric has not moved his eyes to anything else.

'They're beautiful. Absolutely stunning. It truly is a wondrous light.'

Polka's expression darkens.

'But they're also called Death Lights.'

'Death Lights?'

Frédéric repeats in surprise. The meanings of the two names are polar opposite. One brings hope and joyfulness, the other gives the impression of hell and suffering. These flowers in front of him, are associated with both names?

'The sun brings life, but the dark brings death. And these flowers bloom in darkness. So, darkness is evil, light is good. Whether you want to call them Heaven's Mirror of Death Lights, that's up to you Frédéric. But I guess these days pretty much everyone has taken to calling them Death Lights. Long ago, it was thought they looked like the light that guided people to death, since they blossom the opposite of regular flowers. Even now, a lot of people don't like these flowers. To many, they're still considered a bad omen. That's... how they think of me.'

Frédéric shakes his head and sighs deeply.

'Frédéric, you said before that this whole world is all just a dream you're having. Right? But if this is your dream and you can be so positive that what's happening is just a dream, how can you tell which is the real world, if what you're experiencing in the dream is that realistic to you? And to prove my point, you didn't read my mind earlier.'

Frédéric is highly surprised.

'Uh?'

'You were wrong. I was thinking about leaving Tenuto. I want to go out into the world, and live my own life. Even if that life only exists inside your dream. I don't know how much time I have left to live, but I want to live what's left of my life in a positive way, brining happiness to others. I just want to help people somehow.'

Polka turns away from Frédéric, looking back at the flowers.

'Like these flowers. Even though people call them Death Lights, they still blossom and struggle to live on.'

'You're going to leave the village. But where do you intend to go after you leave Tenuto?'

'I'll go to Forte Castle. And then I'm going to meet with the Count. To ask about the taxes on floral powder. Because right now, they're hurting everyone in the village. You know, you should be happy you couldn't read my mind. Since you can't use magic, it means you don't have an incurable illness.'

This is a downright lie to Frédéric. It is a dream, alright, but he is sure that he knows it, and is suffering from tuberculosis at Paris, on his bed. In this world, in his setting, anyone having fatal disease can access the power of magic, same as him.

But how come I couldn't read her mind?

'Please, stay at my house tonight. I'll tell my mom you're coming. You're a guest in our dream world, after all. That's not something that happens every day.

Polka walks away, giggling, apparently does not take his word of his dream seriously. Watching her back, Frédéric contemplates what he just heard.

A flower that resembles you...

A bad omen, Death Lights...

Ritardando is still asleep in the morning mist. Most shops are still not open yet, but two small figures are already set for the pathway into the wood.

'Okay, you gotta watch yourself, Beat. It's not gonna be the same as the rats in the sewers.'

Retto reminds his young 'brother'. This is the first time they are leaving Ritardando to take on some real challenge other than stealing.

'I know. Don't worry, I'll take some good pictures.'

Seeing Beat proudly pulls up his camera, Retto is fed up.

'Pictures? Come on, don't waste time on that stuff. You need to help me fight if we face something bad.'

'Hey, that's not nice. Don't say things like that! Taking pictures isn't a waste of time.'

Even though putting up a fierce look, that really does not look any terrifying in the face of an eight-year-old boy. Beat is small, but he is not stranger in fighting, and Retto needs him. It is no point arguing before they have even set out.

'Fine, fine. You can tell me all about it later. Come on, let's get moving.'

The journey to Forte Castle should not take more than a couple of days. All they bring along with them is some bread, biscuits, dried meat and food that needs not to be cooked, a lamp for illuminating at night, a knife, a small tent and their musical instruments. Retto has a violin, and the one Beat has is a clarinet. Though the two of them steals for other children, Retto makes it clear that he never eats anything that he does not paid for. The only income they get is to perform music in Ritardando.

As earlier as Retto can remember, he was already without parents, abandoned in a street in Ritardando. Back then a few kind-hearted citizens brought him to the Mandolin Church. At the age of 11 another boy of three was also sent here, orphaned when his father passed away. All his possession was a camera. The priests adopted them, gave them food and taught them to read. To them, the church had been school, playground and home.

Five years later Retto decided that he and Beat must repay the church, plus the fact they could never stay there always relying on others. Those days they played music for the hymn sing chorus came in handy as they served as music performers in bars and restaurants. The income was not high, but was at least enough for them to live alone. But everything changed when mineral powder was available in the local medicine shops. Everything essential for living, above all food, was suddenly ridiculously taxed. In one night the living of standard soared far higher than the locals could afford. Not to say renting a hut, merely buying food had already drained up almost all their money. Without any choice Retto and Beat had to move out and live in where they are now.

The common citizens are suffering, while those in wealth and power turn their eyes and ears away from the pleas. Each time at the thought of this, unbearable anger and grievance well up inside him.

There are wooden plates covering the entire route along with railings across bridges, so the journey is not as muddy or tiring as they have predicted. Being a small child Beat has to rest more often to recover his energy, and Retto waits for him every time. He looks up to observe the weather and the time, which can be roughly estimated by the sun's position, but what he sees through the shade is not azure but white-grey.

'If we don't hurry, we're gonna get caught in the rain.'

He makes a gesture at Beat to get up, who refuses.

'So what? We can handle a little rain. I mean, the hideout's roof leaks like crazy. And that's just when it drizzles.'

The sewers they dwell in are always wet with water, no matter in summer or winter. Whenever it rains their place sometimes turn into a small pond where the water level can reach their knees. This is when they have to spend their nights on large crates until all the water is gone. The weather right now does not worth being compared to those bitter times. Despite his youth and innocent, Beat can pinpoint the truth where others are not aware of, sometimes.

'Yeah, you got a point there.'

*****

Prélude Op. 28: No. 15

Raindrops

George Sand. It is impossible to tell the story of Chopin's life without the mention of this woman.

George Sand was an extremely famous author in Paris who had already published numerous books.

Her real name was Aurore Dudevant, George Sand was her pseudonym.

From 1838, Chopin would share his life with her for a long period, but... when they first met, he commented to a friend. 'Is that really a woman?'

Sand was a somewhat masculine woman who wore pants and smoked cigars in public.

Even her pseudonym, 'George Sand' was masculine.

She was unsaved by society's mores and expressed herself unabashedly.

The romance novels she wrote were extremely popular.

Of course, Chopin himself was also famous as a pianist in Paris by this time.

The relationship between the genius pianist and the popular author must surely have been the talk of the town.

At the time, Chopin was not in the best of health, and perhaps attention paid to them by society aggravated his condition.

During this time, Sand took Chopin to the Spanish island of Mallorca to allow him to rest.

To avoid attention, they left Paris separately and rendezvous at a village near the border.

They found a place to live on Mallorca, and Chopin lived a happy life amongst the palm trees, orange trees, and pomegranates.

Chopin's health appeared to be improving, but the island entered its rainy season and the warm weather vanished.

Chopin caught a cold that eventually lead to a relapse of tuberculosis symptoms.

At the time, tuberculosis was a terminal illness, and Chopin and Sand's landlord evicted them, fearing contagion.

After being forced from their home in 1839, Chopin and Sand arrived at the Valldemossa monastery.

And rain continued to fall outside.

The sound of falling rain continued incessantly, the simple sound of raindrops blended together to form a dreary rhythm.

It was under these circumstances that this song is said to have been born in a room in Valldemossa.

A work created by Chopin at age twenty-nine.

The journey to find rest ironically resulted in the worsening of Chopin's health.

But George Sand devotedly stayed by Chopin's side, never fearing infection.

There is little doubt that she was an invaluable source of comfort for Chopin.

*****

Water droplets begin to slip through the shade down to the ground, some land on Polka's head.

'Looks like it's finally started raining.'

Frédéric however looks unconcerned at his coat getting wet, and looks around.

'You know, the rain makes the plants look even more alive.'

'That's very true. For Tenuto's flowers, the rain is a blessing from heaven.'

But this is not the time to appreciate the trees and flowers. The rain may get heavy pretty soon.

'We should get out of this rain. Is there someplace around here where we can take shelter?'

Polka has been a resident around for long. Frédéric thinks she may be familiar with this forest, only to see she lowers her head embarrassedly.

'Hmm... I don't know.'

Now this will be a problem. If their clothes get all wet they will catch a cold easily in this weather, and thus delaying their journey to Forte. While wondering where to hide, Polka's ears distinguishes footsteps approaching among the rain.

'Hold on a second! Someone's coming!'

Frédéric turns to the direction the sounds are made, fingers wrapped around his wand. It may be just another traveller like the two of them, but being cautious is never wrong.

A man comes out from behind the curtain of trees, and notices them.

'Oh! Why, hello there. Are you two out looking for something in this wretched weather?'

He is wearing something like royal guard armours and a monocle on his right eye. Mounted on his back is a long arc thing with a handle. Frédéric and Polka says nothing.

'I am looking for something myself. But I'm learning that it's not such an easy task when it's pouring down rain like this.'

His speech takes on a sinister tone as he beckons to them.

'Perhaps you wouldn't mind providing me with entertainment to ease my frustration?'

Anger and vigilance rises in Frédéric's heart. What does this man means by 'entertainment'?

'What!?'

'I really do hate it when my clothes get wet, and here I find the two of you just as I was starting to get irritated!' The man cracks into an evil grin. There is hungriness all over his face. 'I can't stand the smell of this forest, the trees, plants and animals, and the sweat coming from the two of you!'

There is a flash of metallic reflection. The next second he has a long katana in his right hand, and charges at Polka.

'Ahh! Stop! What are you doing?'

Unarmed, Polka runs for her life. Frédéric's rage explodes.

'You bastard!'

He quickly draws out his wand, placing it in front of him pointing at the attacker, who leaps a big stride forward and grabs Polka's shoulder. He places the katana threateningly at her neck.

'Drop your weapon!'

Frédéric looks from the man to Polka, guilty at his uselessness, furious at the man's despicable way of fighting – aiming at the easy target of a young girl, using her as the hostage and his shield.

'I said drop it!'

The man moves the katana a few inches closer to Polka's neck. Red droplets immediately drip down, her eyes full of fright.

He is not bluffing! He will really do it!

It is starting to get thunders. Stormy rain is showering upon the tensed atmosphere. The only thing he can do now is to get Polka out of the immediate danger. Having no other choice Frédéric releases his wand to the ground.

'Now free her!'

The man's mouth twists into a cunning smirk.

'As you wish!'

He turns the katana blade-side-ridge and knocks hard onto Polka's neck. Unable to withstand such blow she falls facedown hard onto the ground, apparently unconscious.

'POLKA!'

Frédéric is so angry that he wants to give this brutal being nothing but pain. He dives for the dropped wand and quickly regains his balance, but the man is a step ahead. The time Frédéric has the man back in focus he has his katana placed at his left waist, at a striking position of a Japanese samurai.

'Farewell! J'accuse!'

Frédéric has no idea what has happened, and it is almost less than a blink. He is not even sure whether the man has swung the katana at all, but rushing to him is an arc blade which seems to be made of air, travelling in a speed as fast as bullets.

If it cuts through me I'll be sliced into two!

There is no time to think. Frédéric concentrates his magic into the wand, and performs the only move he can reflectively command his body to act.

'Coup de Grâce!'

The tip of his wand gets in contact with the air blade, resulting in a thunderous explosion. The force is so strong that it sends his whole body backward to a tree. The last thing he can feel is a sharp pain on his backbone...

*****

11:23 PM

Ludwika stared out the window into the night.

The similar storm has been happening for the past fourteen minutes. Rain hit the window and streaked down, each time creating a new pattern.

'Finally. It looks as though the thunder storm has passed.'

She turns and heads back to the bedside to join the doctor in his vigil.

'How is Frédéric's condition?'

'Better. He appears to have settled down somewhat. Just like the weather outside.'

Ludwika was relieved at this.

'I hope he's all right.'

'His violent spasms have stopped for the time being. I think he's all right for now. He looks peaceful again.'

'Perhaps he was startled by the lightning,' suggests Ludwika. 'Maybe that's what caused his seizure.'

The doctor was not too certain however.

'Yes, madam, that may very well be true. But I have a suspicion that that wasn't the only cause. I think tonight will be crucial to his recovery.'

*****

After the storm the forest seems even more colourful than before. The sky is a deep blue dotted with puffy white clouds. All seems peaceful yet again.

'Looks like all that rain and lightning have stopped. Thank goodness.'

Beat cautiously steps out into the path, nervously, as if expecting the storm may come back any minute. Retto apparently finds that pretty amusing.

'Hey Beat. Did I see you shaking back there?'

During the worst part of the storm, without anywhere to take shelter Retto and Beat used their tent to cover themselves at the root of a tree. Each time a thunder stroke Beat just curled himself up in his knees, whimpering.

'What? N-no way!' Beat blushes. 'I wasn't shaking!'

'Oh? Really? You were hanging on to your camera for dear life, weren't you?'

'Let's just hurry up and get out of here, okay?'

Beat thinks the best thing to get him out of this situation is to change the subject. He looks around, and notices something in the air.

'Look! There is smoke over there.'

Retto follows where Beat points at. It is not the coral dark one that when a fire breaks out but is white.

'That means we're near a village. Let's have a look.'

Retto and Beat go towards the position of the smoke, and soon reaches the exit of the forest. At an open area they find the path leading uphill. A sign above which looks like made of vine reads 'Agogo Village'.

Both boys go up the slope and find themselves facing a twin set of picturesque cottages that appears to have grown out of the surrounding landscape. Vines climb the sides of the living houses that are made hollow out of trees. Little white flowers growing along them give the impression of a decorated exterior since there is not much in the way of manmade design. At the bases were untrimmed bushes and the many trees that have been permitted residence in the natural little village. Throughout the place there are plenty wooden statues of faces and animals, like the handcrafts of some ancient tribes. There is even a small stream running through the place.

'Oh, terrific,' Retto grumbles. 'It finally stops raining, so of course now we find a house.'

'Hey, I think I see someone over there.'

Beat points to a small figure wandering around the property, seemingly gathering firewood. Not waiting for Retto's instruction he approaches the figure.

'Hello, there! Do you live in this house?'

'Yes, I do.' The speaker is a little girl of about Beat's age, with layered lilac hair in an exotically patterned sundress. 'My name is March. Nice to meet you. My sister and I are the guardians of this forest.'

She speaks in a very polite and mature manner that does not match with her young appearance. Retto notices her ears being pointy.

'If you don't mind may I ask, how old are you?'

'Actually, my sister and I are born through the power of trees here. We take a different form each life time, and for this one, I'm now eight.'

So she's not exactly human. She's like a spirit or fairy.

'Then, it's just the two of you?' Retto asks. 'Alone? All the way out here? Must be tough.'

'Not at all. I suppose it is dangerous sometimes, but my sister always manages to take care of things. Lately, though, I must admit I've been surprised at how many guests have been showing up around the forest.'

There is a squeak of a door swinging open on its hinges behind. March turns around and notices who just leaves her house. Standing at the doorway is a teenage girl.

'Oh, are you awake already? You know, you could have stayed in bed longer if you wanted to.'

The girl looks a little bewildered.

'Where... where am I?'

'You were found lying unconscious at the upper entrance of the forest. The agogos came to me and told me where I could find you.' March gives her a gentle smile to make her feel secure. 'I think your friend is out taking a walk somewhere nearby. He kept mumbling to himself, something about trying to find inspiration for his music. Oh by the way, it was him who healed you.'

As if being thunder struck, Polka feels her neck where the cut is made – it is completely gone without any scar.

Retto at first guesses that 'agogo' is the name of this village, but in March's words it seems something else – something alive.

'Uh. Excuse me, but what are "agogos"?'

March looks like she does not understand the question very well.

'They're, hmm,' she gestures her hands in a ball shape. 'Well, they're round creatures.'

'Round creatures?' repeats Beat, mimicking her gesture with his hands.

'Anyway, they don't approach human beings. And recently, the agogos haven't been showing themselves at all.' March turns to Polka. 'You're a very lucky person. It's quite unusual for agogos to take a liking to a human. In fact, I still can't believe they came to me about rescuing a human being at all. This is the first time anything like that's ever happened.'

The girl lowers her head, suddenly looking uncomfortable and even more confused than before.

'So the agogos rescued me? Even though... even though I'm...'

There is even guilt in her face. March is worried by her expression. Does this girl feel bad about being saved?

'I think maybe you should get some rest right now. I'll fix you something warm to eat.'

She is about to walk to the door but pauses midway.

'Oh, I'm sorry I just realised. I don't even know your name.'

'Who, me?' The girl utters. 'Well I'm...'

'You're Polka, right?'

Polka's heart almost leaps out at her name being mentioned out loud. She should be a complete stranger in this village!

'What?'

She turns around to find the one that knows her by her name is a teenage boy around the age of hers. Seeing her does not deny it he elaborates.

'You sell floral powder in Ritardando. Yeah. I heard someone say your name once.'

'Oh yeah!' Beat gives Polka a thumb up. 'And that magic you used was really great, too!'

The two boys look at each other, looking very satisfied by their knowing it all. Polka however beings to step away from them, suspicion and cautiousness shown in her eyes. They smiles fade away quickly at this.

'Hey, Polka, what's the matter?'

Ignoring Retto's call, Polka turns and runs away down a path.

'Why'd she run off like that?' Beat looks until her shadow disappears round the corner, worrying whether he and Retto have offended the girl in any way. 'Did we say something wrong?'

Magic.

They only know what I can do, not for who I am!

It is alright for Frédéric to know about her magical powers, because he is also suffering from the same fate as hers. However those two boys are merely strangers. Will they ever care to get to know her? Her, the sick, contagious outcast?

No, they won't!

So she runs, barely aware of where she is going, letting her feet take her where they will. The trees blurs past her, their branches not daring to reach out to stop her.

Approaching from the same path in front of her is a man in long coat and top hat, carrying a basket of fruits.

'Oh, Polka, you're up. I've picked a snack for us...'

He has barely finishes when Polka breezes right past, almost knocking him to the side. Looking back towards her, confused, he then notices March and two other boys near the house.

'Did something happen?'

'She really shouldn't be running around like that. She's only just recovering.' March remembers the cut on Polka's neck when she saw her in the forest. 'But the path doesn't go very far off. So at least she shouldn't get lost...'

Just then there is a scream in the distance – a girl's voice from the path Frédéric comes back. Retto is alarmed.

'That's Polka! Beat?'

'Right, Retto!'

The two boys take out their instruments and begin to disassemble them. As March wonders why they bother playing music at such moment, the violin and the clarinet have become a single-handed sword and a hooked rifle.

'I'm going too!'

Retto and Beat looks at Frédéric, wearing a calculating expression. March is not certain about his decision.

'Wait! You still haven't recovered yet!'

'I'm not going to stay here doing nothing! I've promised her mother to take care of her!'

Time is running out. The more they talk here the more Polka will be in danger. Frédéric, Retto and Beat set out for the rescue.

Polka gasps at what comes at her.

The monster is so abnormally large that it is a lot harder to miss than Frédéric has been. Twelve feet tall, its skin is a dull, turquoise blue, its great broad body like an oversized reptile. It is holding a huge wooden club. Polka's breath leaves her as she feels her blood freezes.

This is when three people run from behind to her. Each has their arms spread out to offer as much protection for her.

'Polka', asks Beat, 'are you okay?'

She cannot find her voice to answer, and so only nods. At least she is not alone now. Retto looks over his shoulder at Frédéric.

'Are you sure you're okay?'

There is a thread of scepticism in his gaze, which is not without reason. Fighting is no place for flaunting, and March just said he is also a patient as Polka is.

'I'll be fine.' There is a look of determination in his features. 'Don't worry about me. Right now, we have to concentrate on keeping it away from Polka!'

With a ferocious roar, the ogre has already raised its club in his right hand – as thick as a tree trunk – down towards Polka, who screams and dives out of the way just in time, falls down as she loses her balance. The club crushes into the earth, as the huge amount of kinetic energy gathers as the centre, spreads outward and instantly cracks the ground within a considerable radius. Witnessing such damage in just a blow from the monster, Retto and Beat gasped in fear.

In another second it has withdrawn its club from the ground, roaring at Polka, paralyzed by scariness, too weak to get up.

'Polka! Beat, shoot it!'

Retto shouts at Beat. With an opponent that big even his sword may not work. Long range attack may be more useful.

Beat loads four large bullets into his riffle.

'Take this!'

Trigger pulled, fire emits from the muzzle. The four shots are fired consecutively. The built-up recoil even knocks Beat backward. Following a deafening roar of pain, Retto raised his head to see that there are four trails of what seems to be ogre blood streaming down from its chest.

Did we do it?

Next moment, instead of collapsing, the ogre gives out the angriest roar they have ever heard of. It gives up Polka and marches towards the smallest and weakest target, who provokes it the most.

'Retto! Help!'

Beat retreats backward and reloads at the same time, but unfortunately he is too little to be like an annoying bug in the eyes of the ogre. Its one stride has already made up for all the way Beat has run back.

'Beat!'

Retto chases as fast as he can to the ogre's back. If he does not distract it Beat will be crushed to death alive. He raised his sword high.

'Guide thee ignorant eyes, blazing sword of the sun! Sun Slash!'

Consecutively wielding his sword, Retto slashes at the ogre's bottom. Sun Slash is his proudest and most proficient skill he has been practicing ever since he has made his violin-sword. It consists of five diagonal cuts, follows by a final, strong turning chop.

As it turns out, though gashes appear on the ogre's body, they are too weak to hurt its inner organs. Retto grits his teeth. He has saved Beat, but now the problem has been handed to him.

What should we do now?

Another sledge from the giant club. Retto knows that he can never take it with his sword, or else not only it will be knocked into two but he will also lose his head. He has no other choice but to jump aside. As if anticipated it, the ogre does not withdraw its club and actually raised its left arm, fingers curled up. Along with incisive wind the iron-hard fist charges towards the now defenceless Retto.

–No!

'LOOK OUT!'

Beat shouts in horror. Polka shields her eyes with her hands. Retto can do nothing but to watch the fist descends to him...

BOOM!

But the sound does not like broken bones. Retto gingerly opens one eye. It is stopped by something between him and the ogre.

Frédéric is holding somewhat a wand in his right hand, its tip disappears into the ogre's finger bone!

'Bow down before me!'

As Frédéric concentrates his magic into his wand, its body begins to emit a blue holy light.

'Coup de Grâce!'

There is a blinding flash of light. Retto reflectively shuts his eyes tight. By the time he opens them again, the ogre's fist, up until its left lower arm, is all gone. The ogre staggers as it notices its lost limb on the ground, then to its wound with body fluid and blood cascading like fountain, unmistakable shock and disbelief written all over its face.

This happens to Retto, Beat and Polka also.

As if realising its moribundity, the ogre frantically waves the club at Frédéric, only to see him dodges every blow with the slightest effort, sleek and smooth, without any redundant movement. The ogre conjures all its remaining force on its only arm for the desperate chop, but Frédéric merely raised his wand-arm above his head and blocks it dead still. Frédéric looks into the ogre's eyes. Below his feet a circular figure appears, its marking glowing.

'Ye who lives among mists and tempests, and travel by riding the wind, answer my call!'

An eye-blinding light abruptly concentrates around the ground the ogre is standing. Frédéric slashes the wand outward in an arc, the ogre is thrown backward, balance lost.

'Orzeł Biały!'

Like a long asleep volcano awakens, a blazing pillar of white energy burst up from the ground, engulfing the entire ogre. Beat can have sworn that he sees a white eagle spreads its broad wings soaring up high into the sky. After the light disappears the ogre is nowhere to be seen, only a few angelic-white feathers slowly floats down, as if the monument for it.

Frédéric lowers his wand and adjusts his hat.

This is my dream, and you dared turning your fangs at me?

'Go back, back to a nebulous dream.'

There is not a single drop of sweat on his face, and his clothes are still as tidy as before. Retto gets to his feet to Frédéric.

'You... can use magic?'

His expression is a mix of surprise and admiration. Frédéric can see that the young man has never expected a patient in this kind of gentleman clothing turns out to be a fighter, with magical power.

'That's not a big deal. How's Polka?'

'She's over here.'

Beat waves at them besides her, who has dropped to her knees onto the ground, taking steady breath. Frédéric and Retto join them.

'Did you get hurt?' Retto asks.

'No, I'm all right.' Polka answers quietly without looking at him. 'Thank you.'

'Thank goodness you're all right...' Frédéric's attention however is suddenly stolen away by something behind Polka. 'Wh-what is that thing?'

Everyone follows his gaze. Heading towards them is a tiny round white thing, bouncing along the ground, each time ringing out little musical notes. As it gets closer, it glows brightly, but it cannot be a firefly, because it always comes out only during night time.

Retto remembers what March has said about a round creature.

'I bet it's one of those agogos that girl was talking about before.'

'It's kind of weird. Look, Retto, it's glowing.'

Beat quirks his head, obviously curious about it. Polka is enraptured by the cute creature.

'Agogo, thank you for saving me.'

She bows to it, which bobs up and down in response, as if saying 'you're welcome.'

'I've never seen one of those before.' Beat continues to stare at it with great interest, then suddenly has an idea. 'Oh, I know! I'll take a picture of it.'

He attempts to take out his camera, but the agogo quickly vanishes in a puff of vapour on the spot. Polka looks around.

'Where did it go?'

'Great job, Beat. You scared it off by taking out that stupid think out!' Retto snaps. 'I wish I could've touched it.'

Beat certainly does not want it to happen, but it is undeniable that this is caused by him.

'I'm sorry, Retto.'

There is a very embarrassed silence. Polka takes pity on the young boy.

'So, your name is Beat? Agogos are probably very shy creatures. I'm sure it'll come out again.'

She gives him a very warm smile, then turns to Retto.

'And I take your name is Retto? Is that short for something else?'

'I'm Allegretto,' he says. 'I have a little store in Ritardando. It's small, but we have a tough time keeping stuff in stock each day.'

Allegretto does not even blink as he fluently invents the most blatant lie he can think of. Beat giggles under his breath, hands covering his mouth tight not to laugh out loud. Frédéric and Polka, having not a single clue about this, merely stares at him, baffled.

'Anyway, enough about me. What's a powder seller like you doing way out here? Are you headed somewhere?'

'I...' Polka utters, mind flies back to two days before...

'Mum. I am going to see the Count at Forte Castle!'

Standing apart a few feet apart, Polka was having a row with her mother. There was a strength in her voice, a passion in her posture that made Solfège knew that she was being serious.

Solfège did not give in that easily.

'Now is not the time to discuss this! We have a guest in the house.'

'I told you the reason floral powder isn't selling is because people can buy mineral powder so cheaply. I'm sure he'll understand if I talk to him.'

Solfège was highly impatient with this. Did this girl have an idea who she was going to face? Even if she got an audience with the Count, did she believe she could actually achieve anything? Did she think the Count was really ignorant of Ritardando's situation? A teenage girl's plea would do nothing!

'Polka dear, don't be foolish! You can't possibly go all the way to the castle in Forte by yourself.'

This was the best Solfège could think of to stop Polka, who looked betrayed by her mother's objection.

'I've already made up my mind! Don't try to stop me!'

'Polka!'

The unfruitful negotiation came to an end by her running back to her room and slamming the door.

'Dear, it's not important if floral powder doesn't sell! We'll survive somehow.'

Solfège attempted to listen for any sound near the door. All she got was silence.

'Polka, are you listening?'

There's no way she can't hear me in her room.

Why can't she hear reason?

'Polka, please! Answer me...!'

'Polka! Are you listening?'

'Oh, yes.' Polka's mind is pulled back to the Agogo Forest. 'I... I am on my way to Forte.'

The party decides that reporting what happened to March is the best thing to do for the moment. The well-mannered guardian invites them to sit and have some tea. Frédéric, Allegretto and Beat take the chance to know each other.

'That's a pretty long name.' Beat says. 'Could you say it one more time?'

'Frédéric François Chopin.' The musician repeats it slowly and clearly. 'But, you can just call me Frédéric.'

'Frédéric? Okay. No problem. I'm really good at remembering people's names.'

'You said you're going to Forte.' March says to Polka. 'Do you mean Forte Castle?'

'Yes, I do.'

'You should know that Forte is not a very friendly place right now. It's much nicer here in Agogo Forest. The Count of Forte Castle is responsible for mining Mt. Rock. He's been making some kind of... "medicine".'

Distinguishing March's deliberate accent on the last word, Allegretto knows it must mean more than its literal meaning. Knowing the answer, Beat pops up.

'Ahh, you mean mineral powder, right?'

'Yes. My sister, Salsa, is on her way there right now. She's going to ask them to stop the mining.'

That means Salsa is the other gurdian of this forest.

'I get it.' Allegretto says. 'And you stayed behind here to keep watch on things.'

March nods.

'If someone doesn't do something, the agogos are going to lose their home.'

Polka is greatly saddened by this, as it was the agogos who saved her.

'That's terrible. I was actually gonna ask them to reduce the amount of mineral powder they are selling.'

March is delighted at having someone sharing the similar task her sister is doing.

'Then this is perfect! I hope I'm not asking too much of you, but if you could possibly do me this favour...'

She heads into a back room for a while, rummaging for something, then returns with a wide-brimmed black hat with gold trim.

'Here. If you happen to meet my sister in Forte, could you give her this hat?'

Allegretto however is puzzled.

'But how? I mean, we don't even know what your sister look like.'

'That won't be a problem at all. You see, we're twins. So, just look for someone who looks exactly like me.'

'Gotcha.' Allgretto takes the hat from March. 'All right, then, I think we can handle that. Come on, let's get moving, Polka. We can go together.'

This is the first time someone outside Tenuto using the word 'together' on her.

'What? Going to Forte together? But I...'

I'm ill, I have terminal illness, how can I ever...

'Yes, good idea.' March agrees with his suggestion. 'I think that would be much better.'

'We're heading to the same place. We should stick together, right?'

'Besides,' Beat urges, 'if you collapse again, the agogos might not be there to rescue you next time.'

Go together...?

'Polka, please! Answer me!'

Solfège did not call again, perhaps surrendered at the moment. Polka walked over to her window, every word from her mother echoing in her head.

Mum. I'm sorry.

The truth is, this is about more than just the floral powder.

I don't have long to live, so I want to do something meaningful with that time!

I think meeting Frederic helped me realize what I really want to do with my life.

I don't have much time. But I want to use my power for good somehow. I want to help as many people as I can before it's too late.

I'm not going to worry about what other people think! If they're scared of getting sick and they want to stay away from me, that's fine.

Up until now, every stranger has been my enemy. I'd convinced myself of that and couldn't trust anyone. But not anymore. Now, I'm going to start off by trusting people. Because if I can do that, then...

I think I can become a Heaven's Mirror...

'Go together... yes, I'd really like that!'

Polka answers in a bright tone. Allegretto gets up from his seat.

'Okay! Then we should get going.' Then he notices the guest who almost has not taken part in the whole conversation. 'Oh, Frédéric. By the way, what are you gonna do?'

'I was heading for Forte as well.' He replies. 'I'll escort Polka all the way there.'

'What? You're going to Forte, too, Frederic?' Beat beams. 'That's great, I guess that means we're all going to the same place!'

However Allegretto grumbles in his heart. He is used to working alone or with Beat only. The more people involve the more inconvenience it will be, almost a universal truth, but he does not speak his thought out.

This trip is really getting crowded, huh...

The group gets to their feet and gathers outside the house ready to set out. March bid their farewell at the door.

'March, thank you so much for everything.'

Polka bows to the kind forest guardian.

'Don't mention it. And if you ever come through the forest again, please stop by.'

March waves at them as they head off. She can hear them having another lively talk already as she turn the door handle.

'Darn. I wish I'd gotten another chance to take a picture of that glowing agogo. Oh, well.'

Glowing agogo?

Forgetting the open door, March steps back outside to listen more.

'Are you still going on about that? You know you can just go back to the same cave again later.'

'Allegretto's right. As long as some agogos show themselves, I'm sure you'll get to take a picture of them next time.'

Back in the house, March sinks into meditation.

I wonder what they meant.

I suppose it must have just looked as if it was glowing, because I've never heard of agogos glowing before.