Ever since Ayanokouji Kiyotaka had been a child, he played a lot of chess. From grandmasters to engines, he beat them all time and time again.
There was no person or program in the White Room or anywhere else that could hold a candle to him. Then so...
My veiled fingers reached out to the large wooden double doors, which led to the cruiser's magnificent concert hall. The two cold antique brass doorknobs brushed against my thin, black gloves as I extended my arms to rotate them. A vague mechanical clicking sound followed these subtle movements as the grand entryway to the auditorium sprung open.
These gates to my past had been sealed the last time I wanted to take a swift peek inside, but a certain someone had unlocked them for me, preceding this soon-to-be exciting night. She was invited to my play, of course, and I hoped that my favorite instructor would take some time off her busy schedule to listen to my upcoming performance.
Maybe I could convince her to sing for me?
The two heavy, padded doors closed by themselves as I strode into the room. My steps were muffled by the wine red carpet, which extended through the entire hall, up to the stairs that led onto the stage. The flooring was lined with a golden pattern on the left and right side respectively, while the high, darkened walls were illuminated by small rectangular cutouts for the warm ground lights to shine through.
This area was well insulated, as one might have guessed.
Sounds weren't allowed to travel outside, past the boundary, even if the concert inside turned out to be a true work of art. Some guests weren't interested in such shows or musicals and would rather spend their time conversing with their high society friends or important business partners, depending on which group of people occupied the ship.
How long had it been since I last sat in front of a piano?
I caressed along the glossy fallboard, as if I was cradling and comforting a small, fragile infant, before my concealed hands pushed it open with gentle force. The manufacturer's logo, which spelled 'Steinway & Sons', presented itself underneath the silky key lid with a faint, auspicious luster that kept shimmering in the incandescent light.
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Blood, sweat and tears must have flown during the manufacturing process of this mesmerizing, polished mahogany piano, as a mere machine could not have crafted such an intricately designed masterpiece without the support of human hands.
Our school was quite lavish — or reckless — to have allowed one hundred fifty-five teenage students on a ship that contained such an expensive instrument. The doors might have been locked, but anyone who wished to take a glimpse inside would have been able to, if they were to exert some pressure onto the center part where the astragal was located.
A broken mechanism was a cheap price to pay for this view.
The soft, leather-covered chair caved in due to my weight before my palm ran along the eighty-eight sleek keys, which felt bleak and unappreciated, even through the thin layer of silk that kept my skin from feeling the high quality plastic.
My index finger pushed down one of the many keys, triggering a procedure which caused the hammer to strike the proper strings through a complex series of movements inside the sound board, before my ears were allowed to indulge themselves in the emerging rich, yet natural sounding tone that reverberated through the hall like a swansong.
