There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 82

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Leaves of every hue quickly withered, falling easily even in the gentlest breeze. Winter was already drawing near. The sharp sunlight of the clear blue sky, weakened by the chill, poured down coolly.

Now that the cold seeping through the window chilled one to the bone without a fire, both Vivian and Sophie spent the afternoon cozily seated before the fireplace. Vivian practiced diligently, cradling her cello, while Sophie hummed along to the music as she knitted gloves for the winter.

A week ago, she had acquired Jerome Raven’s sheet music. On the day she met Theo with Edwin, they had stopped by a musical instrument shop on a whim to cool off from the heat.

When she told the shopkeeper she wanted Jerome Raven’s score, he frowned, unfamiliar with the name—until suddenly snapping his fingers as if remembering something.

‘Ah! You mean that musician who died so young!’

‘What a tragedy. If Jerome Raven were still alive, the landscape of music would have changed entirely.’

The shopkeeper, unaware of the precise circumstances behind the young, talented musician’s death, clicked his tongue in sorrow. At the same time, Vivian’s heart pounded uneasily and embarrassingly. Shame and humiliation weren’t feelings reserved only for the moments she did something improper with Edwin.

Fatefully, just one of Jerome Raven’s scores happened to be in the shop. Chillingly enough, it was precisely “Sigh of Love.”

Yet the score was old and worn, with sections partially missing. Moreover, it wasn’t particularly easy, and since it was originally a piano piece, it required careful adaptation for cello. On top of that, she had to compose original passages to fill the gaps left by the missing parts—a far from easy task.

As her practice session stretched on, Vivian, feeling dull and restless, set her cello aside and pulled over the music stand. Rapidly scanning the notes, her eyes drifted back upward and landed on Jerome Raven’s name.

It was merely a name.

Yet she felt as though she were looking face-to-face with Jerome Raven, a man whose face she had never seen.

Would he, like Edwin, have bright blue eyes? Would his hair be unusually dark as well? Being brothers, they must have looked quite alike. Had he survived to this day, he surely would have become a celebrated musician, monopolizing the affection of countless women just as Edwin did now.

Vivian closed her eyes tightly and embraced the score to her chest.

The thought that the person who had written this music was part of the family Edwin loved made the score deeply precious to Vivian. Relief surged over her like a wave, simply at the fact she had managed to obtain it.

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