There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 66

The sweat on her palms showed no sign of cooling. Her lips kept drying out, and her back was soaked through. Yet Vivian couldn’t bring herself to say she would give up the performance, so she pulled out a score she had long sealed away deep within her memories.

But the old, faded sheet music was now decayed and torn, with parts of it completely gone. On top of that, the champagne she’d hastily drunk earlier had significantly dulled her memory.

The first trial brought on by alcohol had arrived for Vivian, who rarely drank. Confronted with something she never thought would happen in her life, she blamed the unexpectedly sweet champagne for her bewilderment.

Vivian fidgeted her fingers, lost in deep thought.

What should she play?

Lopez’s Cello Sonata No. 3? Morning Joy? Herrera’s Nocturne No. 9?

Melodic ideas flashed swiftly through her mind, but she couldn’t recall the exact notes. Moreover, since all the pieces she remembered required considerable technique, Vivian—whose fingers had stiffened from tension—had no choice but to drastically lower the difficulty.

Yet even the simpler pieces manageable for her had already vanished by more than half from her memory. As Vivian, stuck in this dilemma, hesitated to begin playing, the waiting audience slowly started murmuring among themselves. Amid the echoing whispers, Vivian broke into a cold sweat and finally picked a piece.

She tried over and over to calm herself, steadying her racing heart.

Vivian secretly glanced toward the Queen. As the wait grew longer, the Queen started growing bored and spoke briefly to her lady-in-waiting, while Sera Chadwick stood stiffly in place, staring blankly at Vivian.

Biting the soft flesh inside her mouth, Vivian shut out her surroundings. In the deep darkness, she refocused and searched desperately for a piece to play.

Ah. She remembered.

And into her mind, like a savior, came none other than her childhood cello teacher.

Sanchez, an obscure musician, had left his hometown and moved to Preston—the renowned cradle that produced countless musicians.

The deep shadows beneath his eyes and his uniquely somber expression remained vividly etched in her memory, even after all this time. Driven solely by a vow to succeed, he had sold everything he owned to settle in Preston, but tragically, he never achieved success as a musician.

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