Listen To The Melody

A steady sound came from the room as Cora pressed her ear up to the door. Music seeped through the door and into her ear. It was muffled, but she could make out the distinct instruments of a rock ballad. When she started getting really into the song though, it suddenly switched. This time, the song was even quieter, leaving her starved to hear more. Desiring just that, she pressed on the door just a little more… Until it popped open and she fell through.

Cora hit the floor with a crash, landing face first, knowing full well some sort of punishment awaited her from the resident of the room she had just invaded. Her head tilted upward, spying a boy seated at a desk, leaning back in his chair with his head cocked at the sight of the girl on the floor.

“Oh, you’re Cora, right?” The young master stated blankly.

The girl rose to her feet, brushing herself off as she gave her reply. “Y-yes, that is my name, sir.”

“Please, I’m tired of the ‘Sir’ crap my dad forces you guys to keep up. I already got Gauche to drop it.” Blitz flung his head back in exasperation, then turned back to the computer before him. “You were listening to the song, right? Do you wanna hear what I’ve got so far?” He beckoned her over, desiring an audience of some sort to hear his work.

Complying with his invitation, Cora walked fully into the room over to where Blitz was seated. The room itself was very large, in a dome shape and containing all sorts of equipment one would only expect a spoiled rich kid to have access to. She had cleaned this room a couple of times, but only ever when Blitz was out. Seeing it be lived in gave it a whole new sense of life.

When she arrived at the computer, she saw a program Blitz had pulled up with various waveforms and other sound-indicating images all over it. She didn’t quite understand it, but her job was to do whatever he said, and he had said to watch.

“You see, I produce music for fun.” Blitz played the track on his screen, beginning a familiar beat Cora had just heard from behind the door. “I do it for random clients I have, but it gives me something to do. Not like I have any friends to hang out with whenever I’m not studying.”

Cora tightened her chest. She wanted to tell him he had her, that she’d be happy to help him out. She had plenty of experience with Slater and Elio… And yet, her position made her hesitate, and that hesitation put off her words forever as another voice burst into the room.

“May I ask what you’re doing, Sir Blitz? Especially with a lowly servant girl, instead of studying?” A well groomed man in a dark butler’s suit stomped precociously next to the two fourteen-year-olds huddled around the monitor. “Your father was clear in how he wanted your time today spent, I cannot allow you to disregard that.” He pushed Cora aside, placing a hand on Blitz as if to pull him away from his personal work.

“Oh, lay off, Droite. All you ever yap about is what my dad wants.” Blitz threw off his hand, going back to his project.

Droite’s hand recoiled as he shook with an anger he could only subdue, turning to Cora.

“You! What are you doing here anyways?” He scowled at the girl, preparing to raise a hand at her. “I say servants not doing their duties deserve to be punished—“

“And her duty was to check on Blitz, wasn’t it, Droite?” A much calmer and soothing voice now came from the door to the room. In it stood a man with the same features as Droite, down to the same face. Yet the warm expression he wore made all of his curves feel much less sharp, and the cream color of his uniform that much more inviting.

“Gauche! You know very well she’s supposed to be—“

“I’m the head servant, brother, I decide what she is supposed to be doing. Please, go assist Master Krieg in his workshop. He said he required you for something.”

Droite hesitated, looking to be on the edge of protest, but realizing the futility of it, stormed out of the room while cursing under his breath. He slammed the door behind him as he left, leaving the remaining three alone in their little retreat.

“I swear, you’d think we weren’t even related… He’s such a stickler.” Gauche turned back to Blitz, walking up and leaning in to the monitor himself. “Now, what was he so bent out of shape over?”

“My music, I was just seeing how it sounded to other people before I sent it off.” He was moving something around on the screen while he played it once again for Gauche to hear, with his eyes locked on whatever it was he was accomplishing.

The sounds graced Gauche’s ears, and he was drawn in by the melody. He even found his legs had gotten into the rhythm.

“Wow, you got quite a talent, Blitz! Where did you ever pick up on a skill like this? I can’t imagine it was in your studies.” Fatherly pride shown through his words, but not being at an age one would consider fatherly yet, the freshly twenty-one butler let his youthful curiosity get the best of him right after.

Blitz’s face settled into a solemn stare, with him seemingly falling more immersed into his work.

“It was… After mom died. Neither of you knew her, but she would always sing to me at night, and when that was gone, I found myself missing it. So, I decided to make something myself with the resources I had.” He spoke matter-of-factly, still tuned in to his screen. The room had gone silent, hearing Blitz’s words as they echoed through Gauche and Cora’s ears.

Gauche backed away a bit, wanting to give Blitz space, but found his mouth breaking the silence regardless.

“Does your father know, Blitz?”

His answer came immediately.

“No. He would just see it as a waste. Sure, we both make things, but he makes things to help society.” He finally turned away from his monitor, facing Gauche. “I just make mediocre sounds strung together the world will forget by the time I die.” He looked off to the side, clearly dejected. Seeing his face, Gauche’s arms landed on Blitz’s shoulders as he knelt down to his level. Blitz braced for some sloppily thrown together encouraging words, but found his ears to be surprised instead.

“Cut that out.” The lacerating slap-to-the-face those words were drew the boy’s attention. “Just because you’re making art doesn’t make it of less worth. Your father may make things that benefit vast amounts of people, but what you make is something that can reach people on a personal level! It doesn’t matter if people praise your work after you die; if people are enjoying your work enough to ask for personal pieces, you’re already changing lives!” Gauche stood up, looking to Cora, then back to Blitz as he said his next words. “To guys as young as you, I know this may be a bit dumb, but as long as you have people close to you who treasure you and your abilities, then you don’t need to give a crap about being immortalized.” He looked around for a moment, before leaning in to the two. “This may sound dumb… But, the only immortalizing you should be worried about is immortalizing others in your own soul.”

“Soul? Are you okay, Gauche?” Cora tilted her head, taking on a mocking tone.

“Now that I think about it Cora, I think Droite was right, you do have some work to do. Let’s go check the schedule out, why don’t we?” He gave a warm smile, staving off her comment as he grabbed her sleeve and started pulling her out of the room, leaving Blitz all on his own.

He always does this… He thought to himself, watching the pair exit and close his door behind them. Every time my mother comes up, he always gives some vague advice and then walks off. He pondered Gauche’s words a bit longer though, before he formed a new thought alongside a long forgotten smile. This time, it wasn’t so bad though.

Suddenly, the door swung open again. Blitz turned, expecting to see Gauche saying he forgot something.

“Blitz, Droite let me know you haven’t been as focused on your studies as you should be.”

Instead, he was greeted by the towering, serious, and stern visage of his father. Freshly covered in stains from working on machines, the man did not look like he had the patience to hear Blitz out. Blitz’s mind raced as he pieced together an excuse as fast as he could but his brain didn’t get far, as the shrill sound of his melody looped from his computer, playing aloud for his father. Never before had Blitz felt his own work sound so awful, his perception dyed by the compounding pressure of his father’s presence.

“What… is that?”

His father’s words felt more like a death sentence than a genuine question.

“It’s—Uh…”

Now waiting for his son’s answer, he pushed his son aside and looked at the desktop himself, seeing the software producing the sound and the meticulous effort Blitz made to create it all.

“Did you make this, Blitz?” His stern voiced pierced like a spear.

“Y-yes, I did…” Blitz got out, just barely.

“I want it deleted by the next time I come here. Every trace of it and whatever you used to make it.” He stood up, and walked briskly to the door, before turning back to Blitz. “I never want to hear that cursed melody again.” The door slammed, leaving Blitz speechless and in shock. All he could see was a glimpse as the door had shut, a glimpse of Droite, sneering and giggling as he reacted to Blitz’s own face.

I knew he wouldn’t approve, but… That was a bit more extreme than even I thought. Blitz could only help but wonder what was going through his father’s head, but that’s when his attention was grabbed by a ping from his monitor. He climbed back into his chair, pulling up a chat room window he had open.

In the window, his own screen name, “Bolt,” was displayed on the side. At the top was the name of who had just sent him a message: “Armeniaca.”

[How is my favorite producer’s next work for me coming along?]

Blitz stared at the message briefly, before typing a swift reply.

<Hi, Armen. It’s basically done at this point, but I ran into some personal issues on my end.>

[Ah, was it your father? Finally told him about all of this?]

<Yes and no, he found out, but on his own. That being said, he wants everything deleted ASAP. This may be the last project I do for you.>

[Really? That’s a bit extreme. I don’t think he really understands what you have going for you.]

<I don’t think what I do is something he would be able to understand.>

[In that case, just go somewhere else.]

<Somewhere else?.>

[Like, the Eastern States. You said you lived in the West, if you lived over in the East, you wouldn’t have to worry about your dad’s overreach. I’m sure there’s some excuse you could make to come here and fake getting lost somehow, then start a new life.]

Blitz pushed himself back from his monitor, taking in Armen’s suggestion. He then rolled closer, typing up a reply.

<I’ll think about it. For now, here’s your file. I have to get going.>

He attached the audio he had been working on, sent his reply, then powered off his computer.

Run away? Really?

He couldn’t believe such a nonsensical suggestion could be genuine. However, a sinister seed had been planted, one with the morbid curiosity to ask: Could he actually do it?

It was that question which haunted Blitz for the next few weeks, until the opportunity to test it reared its head.