Chapter 39: Moonlight Sonata
December 25th, 2993 — Jinlus Village
"Sir... are you sure this is a good idea?"
The boy adjusted the oversized fedora that nearly concealed his eyes and glanced uneasily down the alley ahead.
It was narrow, cramped, and filthy a forgotten passage buried deep within a border village.
The large man walking in front of him chuckled.
"Kid, you're smart. And smart people understand one thing better than anyone else: no matter how much they know, there's always more to learn about society."
He continued forward without hesitation.
"So think of this as a lesson."
The boy frowned.
"A lesson? Then why does this lesson involve walking into a bar hidden at the end of some disgusting alley?"
His gaze drifted toward the brightly lit streets beyond.
"And on Christmas Day, of all days. Why can't we go enjoy the festival like everyone else?"
He wasn't wrong.
Outside, the village seemed drenched in light.
Warm laughter filled the streets. The scent of cakes and sweets drifted through the winter air. Performers entertained lively crowds while hymns praising the Lord echoed beneath rows of festive decorations.
Compared to that dazzling celebration, the alley felt abandoned by the world.
Even here, deep within the shadows, the boy could still hear the distant songs. He could still catch traces of cream cakes, sweet candy, and cheerful folk music carried by the wind.
Part of him wanted to turn around and return to that world.
"Forget them."
The large man stopped before a small wooden door hidden in the corner of a wall.
"We're stepping into the real world."
His hand rose.
"The world that needs us."
Knock.
Three slow beats.
Five short ones.
Then ten rapid knocks in succession.
"Tsk. A dead rat?"
The boy paid little attention to the strange rhythm.
Instead, he was busy avoiding the cockroaches and sewer rats crawling around his feet.
"Tsk. Filthy insects. Walking diseases."
He stomped angrily on one of them.
The atmosphere of this place had nearly crushed whatever festive mood remained in his heart.
"Come in."
The large man pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside without the slightest hesitation.
The boy lingered for a moment.
Before entering, he glanced back one last time at the alley behind him.
Then he froze.
The world beyond the door was nothing like what he had expected.
Inside was a spacious, empty room.
Neatly arranged wooden planks covered the floor. The four walls were built entirely from white brick. Above them stretched a ceiling that resembled a vast night sky illuminated by countless stars and a luminous moon.
It felt as though the room itself had been embraced by moonlight.
Ting.
A single note rang out.
The sound came from a piano resting at the center of the empty room.
Then another note followed.
And another.
The piano seemed to awaken like a living heart.
It gathered the cold moonlight overhead and the bitter winds of winter beyond the sky, weaving them together before releasing an invisible warmth that spread throughout the room.
The repeating triplets seemed to beckon the listener forward, drawing them into a sacred realm beyond ordinary sound.
Each repetition resembled another step upon an invisible stairway ascending toward heaven.
Yet this heaven was not radiant.
It was quiet.
Solemn.
Melancholy.
Rather than urging one onward, it compelled them to look back upon the steps they had already climbed.
A faint sadness lingered within the melody, like the moonlit sky itself releasing a weary sigh.
It felt like wandering through a labyrinth of memories, following paths whose destination remained forever unseen.
Then, without warning, that sorrowful heaven shattered.
The stairway collapsed.
The sky broke apart.
Countless fragments scattered into the air, transforming into thousands of drifting snowflakes.
As they fell away, a garden emerged beneath them.
A garden washed entirely in white.
White flowers.
White branches.
White grass swaying beneath silver moonlight.
At the center of the garden lay a small pond.
Its waters were perfectly still.
Unfathomably deep.
Each note that echoed through the air sent delicate ripples spreading across its surface.
The garden seemed alive.
The pond seemed alive.
Everything within that dreamlike landscape appeared to answer the music in a language beyond words.
Then the flowers began to grow.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
Their pale branches stretched higher and higher toward the silent moon above.
As though yearning to touch its distant light.
They continued rising.
Endlessly.
Relentlessly.
The flowers swallowed the garden.
Then the pond.
Then the boy himself.
Soon, all that remained before his eyes was an endless ocean of white blossoms reaching toward the heavens.
He lifted his gaze toward the moon.
Did it see him?
He didn't know.
Gradually, darkness consumed everything.
Not because the moon had turned away.
Not because its light had faded.
But because the flowers had grown so vast that they eclipsed the entire sky.
The world became suffocating.
He wanted to see beyond them.
He wanted to understand.
He wanted to say something.
Anything.
Yet every emotion settled heavily in his throat, refusing to become words.
The melody softened.
The resonance deepened.
The pond trembled once more beneath the music's touch before swelling upward again.
Ripples spread endlessly across the dark water.
It felt as though the pond itself was speaking on his behalf, expressing emotions too vast and complicated for language.
The flowers surged.
The water answered.
Both moved in harmony with the music.
At times, it felt like exhausted rest.
At times, fierce determination.
At times, a yearning so profound that it seemed to shake the heavens themselves.
Then came silence.
The flowers slowly withered.
The pond grew still.
The final note lingered briefly in the air before dissolving into the surrounding quiet.
Everything faded.
Everything ended.
The boy opened his eyes.
The piano still stood beneath the moonlit ceiling.
The room remained unchanged.
Yet the world somehow felt different.
Seated before the instrument was another boy, roughly the same age as himself.
He possessed dark brown hair and cold golden eyes.
The young pianist looked toward the two visitors.
"The piece you just heard is called Quasi una fantasia."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Though most people know it as the Moonlight Sonata."
His fingers rested lightly upon the keys.
"It was written by a genius. A man who could not remain beside the one he loved and could only offer this composition to her instead."
His gaze drifted toward the piano.
"To me, it has always sounded like the final cry for help of a soul sinking into despair."
The boy listened quietly.
Moonlight shimmered within his eyes beneath the shadow of his fedora.
"To hear something so beautiful is truly an honor."
His voice carried genuine admiration.
"It was wonderful."
He bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you."
The large man stepped forward.
Removing his hat, he placed it against his chest and bowed respectfully, revealing a rugged face framed by rough stubble and sharp, observant eyes.
Then the pianist rose from his seat.
Placing one hand over his chest, he returned the gesture with equal courtesy.
"Sir, I believe I should be the one expressing gratitude."
His smile widened slightly.
"For one thing, it has been a very long time since I've had an audience."
His golden eyes shifted toward the large man.
"And for another..."
A trace of amusement appeared in his voice.
"...it isn't every day that a famous detective chooses to pay me a visit."