Wednesday arrived with a heavy atmosphere hanging over the Lane household. With only three days remaining until the Violin Association's entrance audition, the tension was palpable.
In the dedicated music room of the villa, Faye stood before a full-length mirror, her violin tucked under her chin. Sweat beaded on her forehead, dampening the stray strands of hair that had escaped her bun.
She played with a desperation that bordered on mania.
Ever since the revelation about Ren's relationship with Mayor Fitz—how the Mayor pampered Ren like a precious ancestor while Faye had to beg for scraps of attention—Faye had been consumed by a singular, burning goal.
She had to pass this audition.
She had to become the disciple of Maestro Weiss.
It was the only way to regain her footing. Politics and money were powerful, yes, but in the world of high society, artistic prestige was a currency that even mayors respected. If she became the protégée of a global icon like Weiss, she would transcend her current status. She would no longer be just the daughter of the Lane family; she would be a star.
"Stop," her instructor called out, lifting a hand.
Faye froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She lowered her bow, her knuckles white. "What is it, teacher? Did I miss a note? Was my tempo off?"
The instructor, a stern woman who rarely smiled, was looking at Faye with an expression of pure astonishment.
"No, Faye. It was... perfect."
The teacher walked over, tapping the sheet music on the stand. "Especially this variation in the third movement. The transition from that melancholic, suppressed low register to the sudden, explosive high pitch—it's genius. It breaks all the traditional rules of composition, yet it carries such raw, untamed emotion. Faye, did you really write this adaptation yourself?"
Faye's grip on the violin neck tightened. Her eyes flickered away for a split second.
The melody wasn't hers.
It belonged to a lazy summer afternoon two months ago. She had been at Aunt Sara's house, bored and annoyed. She had heard the sound of a violin coming from the attic—a cheap, scratchy instrument playing a haunting, wild melody. It was Ren, playing carelessly while sitting on a windowsill.
Faye had stood at the bottom of the stairs, mesmerized. She had quickly memorized the tune, written it down, and refined it with professional techniques.
Ren didn't care about music. Ren was just a country girl messing around. She probably didn't even remember playing it.
*I gave it structure,* Faye told herself. *I gave it value. It's mine now.*
"Yes," Faye said, forcing her voice to remain steady. She looked her teacher in the eye. "I... I had a sudden burst of inspiration. Do you think Maestro Weiss will like it?"
"Like it?" The teacher laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Maestro Weiss is known for hating rigid, academic performances. He looks for soul. He looks for rebellion. This piece? It's exactly what he's been searching for. Faye, I dare say this melody will be your ticket to the Capital."
Faye let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. A smile, genuine and relieved, spread across her face.
She would win. She would crush everyone else, and she would prove that while Ren might have luck, Faye had talent.
***
While Faye was building her future on a stolen foundation, the original composer was currently sleeping through third period at Wolven High.
Ren lay with her head on her desk, her face buried in the crook of her arm.
Her phone, tucked inside her desk drawer, was vibrating incessantly.
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
It wasn't a call. It was a barrage of text messages.
Ren groaned, shifting slightly. She fished the phone out and squinted at the screen. The brightness stung her eyes.
The sender ID was **"Old Weiss"**.
**[ Old Weiss: My dear disciple! I have arrived in Moon City! The air here is terrible! Come have tea with me! ]**
**[ Old Weiss: Why are you not replying? I know you see this! I saw your game account was online five minutes ago! ]**
**[ Old Weiss: I heard you joined a Physics competition? Physics! That is a crime against humanity! Those equations will rot your brain! Your hands were made for Paganini, not Newton! Come back to the violin! ]**
**[ Old Weiss: The audition is on Saturday at the Grand Theater. I have reserved the VVIP box for you. You must come! ]**
**[ Old Weiss: If you don't reply in three minutes, I will come to your school. I will bring my accordion. I will stand at the gate and play polka music until you come out! Do not test me! ]**
Ren stared at the threats, a vein in her temple throbbing.
This man was a world-renowned maestro. He was knighted in three countries. His concerts sold out in seconds.
And yet, he texted like a needy, dramatic teenager.
She typed a reply with one thumb.
**[ Ren: No time. Busy. ]**
The reply came instantly.
**[ Old Weiss: [Crying Emoji] [Crying Emoji] You have changed! You used to be a cute child! I have already sent the ticket to you via courier! Saturday, 9 AM! If you don't come, I will cry on national television! ]**
Ren locked the phone and tossed it back into the dark abyss of her desk.
Why were all the old men in her life so troublesome? First the Mayor trying to force-feed her documents, now the Maestro threatening her with an accordion.
She pulled her hood up and went back to sleep.
***
The school day ended with the usual chaos of students rushing home.
Faye walked out of the school building, looking radiant. The praise from her teacher had restored her confidence. Waiting for her by the bike racks was **Xavier**.
"Faye," Xavier called out. He looked tired—the student council work and the pressure of the upcoming physics competition were weighing on him—but his gaze softened when he saw her. "For the audition on Saturday... I managed to get a ticket."
Faye's eyes lit up. " really?"
"It's an internal spectator ticket," Xavier explained, handing her a plain white envelope. "It wasn't easy to get, but I wanted to be there to support you. I know how much this means to you."
"Thank you, Xavier," Faye said softly, clutching the ticket. This was what she needed. Support. Validation. A witness to her rise.
Despite the friction caused by Ren's presence, Xavier was still the young master of the Xu family, and he was still on her side.
As they stood there, sharing a tender moment, a figure walked past them.
It was Ren. She was wearing her usual oversized black coat, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.
Faye's smile stiffened. She remembered her mother's warning to avoid conflict, but the ticket in her hand gave her a surge of superiority.
She took a step forward.
"Sister," Faye called out.
Ren stopped. She didn't turn her body, just turned her head slightly, her eyes cold and indifferent. "What?"
Faye straightened her back, holding her violin case like a shield. "I'm participating in the Violin Association audition this Saturday. It's the highest-level artistic event in Moon City this year. Maestro Weiss himself will be judging."
She paused, gauging Ren's reaction. Ren looked bored.
"I know you know the Mayor," Faye continued, her voice taking on a tone of benevolent condescension. "But the world of art is different from politics. It doesn't care about connections. It only respects true talent."
Faye reached into her bag and pulled out another ticket—a standard "Family & Friends" pass her teacher had given her.
"If you want to come and see what real high-society art looks like, you can have this. It might be good for you to broaden your horizons. But please... if you come, try to be quiet. It's not like the village festivals you're used to."
Xavier frowned slightly. "Faye..." He felt she was being unnecessary.
Ren looked at the cheap, standard-admission ticket in Faye's hand.
Old Weiss was threatening to commit public humiliation just to get her into the VVIP box, and here was Faye, offering her a back-row seat as an act of charity?
Ren let out a short, dry laugh. It was quiet, but it cut through the air like a knife.
"No need," Ren said. "It's too noisy."
"You..." Faye felt the sting of rejection. She lowered her hand, her face hardening. "Fine. It's probably for the best. You wouldn't understand the music anyway."
Ren didn't bother responding. She adjusted her backpack and walked away, leaving Faye fuming and Xavier looking thoughtful.
***
At the school gates, the black Volkswagen Phaeton was waiting.
Ren opened the passenger door and slid in. She tossed a thick, heavy envelope onto the dashboard with a careless flick of her wrist.
It landed with a solid *thud*.
**Juan** was in the driver's seat, one hand resting on the wheel. He watched the envelope slide across the leather dash.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Trash," Ren said, buckling her seatbelt. "Old Weiss sent it."
**Luke**, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward. "Trash?" He picked up the envelope. It was made of heavy, textured paper with gold leaf trim. It smelled of expensive ink.
He opened it. A black card with gold engraving fell out.
"Holy sh—" Luke choked. "Ren! This is a VVIP invitation! Look at the serial number—001! There are only three of these in the entire city! The Mayor has to fight for one of these, and you call it trash?"
Juan took the card from Luke. His fingers brushed over the raised signature of Maestro Weiss.
He glanced at Ren. She was already reclining her seat, pulling her cap down over her eyes.
Juan had suspected for a while.
He had noticed the calluses on her left fingertips—harder than the ones on her right. He had noticed how her fingers sometimes tapped against her thigh in complex rhythms when she was thinking. He had seen how she casually fixed Ian's song with a single text message.
The "Dropout" wasn't just a physics genius. She was the hidden ghost of the music world.
"We should go on Saturday," Juan said, placing the card back in the envelope. He started the car, the engine purring to life.
"Don't want to," Ren mumbled. "Boring."
"I heard something interesting, though," Juan said casually, merging into traffic. "Apparently, one of the candidates has a very unique piece prepared. It's an adaptation. The style... sounds remarkably similar to that tune you were humming in the car last week."
Ren's eyes snapped open under her cap.
She sat up slightly.
"Similar to me?"
Juan glanced at her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Very similar. Almost identical. The candidate is your cousin, Faye."
The car went silent.
Ren narrowed her eyes. She remembered the summer afternoon in the attic. She remembered the open window. And she remembered seeing Faye standing in the garden below.
A cold, predatory smile slowly formed on Ren's face. It wasn't the smile of a victim; it was the smile of a hunter who just realized someone had walked into their trap.
"Is that so?" Ren whispered. "She stole my song?"
"Seems like it," Juan said. "Do you still think it's boring?"
Ren reached out and took a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap with a sharp twist.
"No," she said, her voice dark with amusement. "It just got interesting."
She picked up the VVIP invitation from the dashboard and tapped it against her palm.
If Faye wanted to play the artist, Ren would go watch. She would sit in the highest box, look down, and see exactly how well her "sister" could play a stolen tune.
**[Chapter 54 End]**