‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹

The next morning arrived—it was Friday.

Aster intentionally came earlier than usual, slipping into the art room to retrieve her painting. She had forgotten it in her rush to catch the last carriage yesterday, and the thought of leaving it unattended overnight made her uneasy. Afraid Flavia and her friends might use the chance to meddle again, she wasted no time bringing it to Lady Lydia’s study.

Relieved once it was safely submitted, she made her way toward the music room for their first-period class, Melodic Literature. On her way, she crossed paths with Randall and Wren, who looked as though they had just left the dormitories.

The humiliating memory from yesterday instantly returned—Randall catching her asleep, the panic she made of herself afterward. Her face burned at the thought, and she flinched slightly, bowing her head. Randall only gave a curt nod in acknowledgment, while Wren greeted her with an easy smile.

“Good morning. You’re quite early today,” Wren greeted with a friendly smile, his tone light and welcoming.

“I…I just had something important to do,” she replied, keeping it vague as the three of them walked together.

When they reached the music room, Aster slipped inside quickly. Seeing Katharina already there, she went straight to her, knowing her presence would calm her uneasy nerves.

Randall and Aster, on the other hand, acted as though nothing had happened yesterday in the art room. Neither spoke of it, yet for Aster, the memory kept resurfacing like an itch she couldn’t ignore. She groaned inwardly each time it returned, shaking her head trying desperately to erase it from her mind.

When class began, Lady Shane gathered the students with her usual grace.

“So yesterday, we learned about poetic expression—a way to reach others through fine words and eloquence. But words are not the only form of language. Today, we will learn another: music. To move hearts without speech, to let the soul speak through notes and melody. That is the power of music.”

A ripple of excitement stirred through the class. Nobles had been raised with instruments from a young age, and many students were eager to show off their skills. Aster, however, felt a weight settle in her chest. Unlike painting, music had never been her strength. She had never learned to play an instrument—another reminder of her commoner upbringing.

“I’ll impress Lord Randall with my music,” one girl whispered giddily.

“I’ll dedicate mine to him,” another chimed in, her eyes gleaming.

Around them, more voices buzzed with similar hopes, until Flavia let out a sharp scoff. The look on her face made her thoughts clear enough.

‘You all wish. It will be me who captures his attention.’

One by one, the students played an instrument of their choice. Flavia and Renie played the harp, their fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings. Isadora chose the flute, Katharina the lute, while Wren sat at the piano with practiced ease.

Aster also chose the piano. But lacking the training of her peers, all she managed was a simple tune—just enough to pass.

Flavia’s laugh cut through the room. “What a disgrace. Even a child could do better.”

Several students snickered, and Aster’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, though she kept her lips pressed shut. Beside her, Katharina leaned closer, offering a gentle rub on her back.

“I, for one, thought it was cute. You did well,” she whispered with an encouraging smile.

Then, it was Randall’s turn. He stepped forward, violin in hand, and at once, every pair of eyes turned to him. The moment the bow touched the strings, the world seemed to shift.

The melody unfolded—clear, stirring, filled with an aching kind of longing. His eyes closed, his expression serene, as though every note was drawn straight from his soul. The sound was exquisite, a music meant to soothe the heart.

The ladies watched in rapture, torn between the beauty of the melody and the ethereal sight of Randall himself. Even the boys, including Ranley, who so often bristled at Randall’s effortless perfection couldn’t help but listen.

But for Aster… 

The sound pierced straight through her. Her chest tightened, emotions swelling in her like a tide she couldn’t control. It wasn’t just beautiful—it hurt.

‘Why… does it hurt so much?’ Her vision blurred, and before she realized it, tears welled in her eyes.

When Randall opened his eyes at the final note, he met Aster’s gaze. His fingers stiffened around the violin. For a breathless moment, he saw only her tears glistening, her gaze locked with his. 

‘For someone who stirs something in me…’ Randall’s thoughts faltered.

‘Why… 

Why do you look at me like that?’

… As if you’re in pain?’

Time seemed to freeze between them. Then, jolted by the realization of his gaze, Aster turned her head away quickly, wiping at her face as naturally as she could manage.

She prayed no one had noticed. She herself didn’t understand why the music had struck her so. 

‘What was this feeling? Why did it feel like something buried was clawing its way out?

ㅤ ׅ 𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄ㅤㅤ

・┆✦Later That Afternoon✦ ┆ㅤ

The day passed quickly, and soon, classes were over.

Friday was Aster’s free day from her library work, so she wandered back to the music room. Sitting before the piano, her fingers hovered hesitantly over the keys before pressing down, one note at a time.

She tried to recall the melody Randall had played earlier, piecing it together slowly by ear. She wasn’t certain why, but something about the tune made her want to remember.

‘Maybe… if I heard it again, it’ll help me remember something.’

Her uncertain attempt was interrupted by a soft, amused laugh—not mocking, but warm.

Aster turned sharply, flustered. Wren stood by the door, watching her curiously.

She quickly stood up, her face turning red. “I—I didn’t notice you there,” she stammered. “I’ll leave.”

“Relax,” Wren said, waving a hand casually. “No need to panic. I was only passing by. Thought I’d practice a bit while waiting for Lord Randall to finish his council meeting—just to kill time.

“I see…” Aster murmured, stepping aside. “Then, by all means.” She moved away from the piano, certain he was far more deserving of it than herself.

But Wren only smirked. “I guess you’re one of the ladies secretly admiring Lord Randall, huh?”

Her cheeks flared. “What? No!”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed as though reading her mind. “Then why were you trying to play the same song he performed this morning?” He leaned lazily on the piano, grin tugging at his lips. “Sounds to me like you’re trying to impress him.”

“It’s just…” Aster faltered, gaze dropping. “I thought it was beautiful, that’s all.”

Wren studied her face for a moment before chuckling softly. “Oh? Alright then. In that case… I’ll help you.”

“Wha—? But why?”

“I know how to play the piano. In fact, I’m good at it. So, I’ll teach you. Aren’t you lucky?” His teasing tone made her fumble for a response.

“Uhh… I’m not sure if—”

“You can always say no. So? Do you want to or not?”

Aster hesitated, then sighed before finally sitting beside him. “…Alright.”

And so, the lesson began. Their hands brushed the same keys, laughter escaping every so often as Wren patiently guided her through the melody. The hours slipped by unnoticed until the setting sun spilled gold through the windows.

Randall had returned earlier than expected. He had come looking for Wren, only to find him in the music room, seated beside Aster.

He said nothing.

At first, he meant to leave immediately. Yet something made him pause. From the dim hallway, he lingered, watching them through the narrow opening of the door.

Aster looked far more at ease than she ever did with him. She laughed naturally with Wren, her expression open and relaxed. There was no hesitation in her demeanor, no flinching, no guardedness—just a calmness that seemed to settle over her as she learned.

It was a side of her Randall had never seen before. With him, she was always tense, always rushing or shrinking back as though uncertain how to act.

And for some reason, the difference bothered him more than he expected.

Quietly, he stepped back into the shadows and turned away.

‧₊˚♪𝄞₊˚⊹₊˚♪ 𝄞𝄢₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞₊˚⊹₊˚♪ 𝄞𝄢₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞₊˚⊹₊˚♪ 𝄞𝄢₊˚⊹

Inside, Aster finally noticed how late it had grown. She stood with a small gasp. “Oh—I didn’t realize it was already this late. I guess playing the piano is much more enjoyable than I thought.”

“You’re a fast learner,” Wren said with a wink. “You just need confidence.”

She dipped into a polite curtsy, her voice sincere. “Thank you for teaching me.”

He grinned. “Anytime.”

Aster smiled faintly and waved at him before heading out, yet her thoughts lingered.

Strangely, she felt far more at ease around Wren than she ever did with Randall.

・┆✦That Night✦ ┆・

Wren and Randall stood on the balcony, the moonlight washing the stone in pale silver. The silence stretched between them until, finally, Wren broke it.

“Why didn’t you come in earlier?” His tone was light, though there was a knowing edge. “I knew you were there.”

Randall’s expression didn’t waver. “Were you expecting something?”

“Not really.” Wren shrugged against the railing. “You’re the one giving weight to my words.”

Randall’s gaze sharpened, cold and direct. “Do you like her?”

A low chuckle slipped from Wren. “Well, I like that she’s unlike any other lady I’ve met. She has an air of determination… a fire in her spirit. The kind of person you can’t help but root for.”

Randall’s fingers tightened against the railing. “Be careful not to mistake curiosity for something deeper.” His voice was low but firm. “It would be cruel to mislead her.”

Wren tilted his head. “You’re awfully protective, aren’t you?”

Randall’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Wren went on, his tone dipping. “Maybe I should be the one warning you not to be reckless. You know what happened before—”

Randall cut him off sharply.

“You don’t need to remind me,” he said, voice cold. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving Wren staring after him.

・┆✦At Randall’s Room✦ ┆・

Lying in bed, Randall stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.

Aster’s face came to mind—the way her tears had fallen when she heard his music.

‘Did I… make her cry?’

It hadn’t even been a week since they met, yet to Randall, it felt as if she had been a part of his life far longer.

‘Why does it feel that way?’

An ache pressed into his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. He couldn’t let it take hold. He shouldn’t.

Because somewhere in his memories… there was someone else. Someone who held his promise.

And yet—

Why was he thinking of Aster like this?

♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.