["When was it that I abandoned my life's passion and took up such a saddening job?"]
Upon a stage in front of a theater of spectators, ranging from powerful merchants to influential noblemen, the man with skin as pale as snow and eyes that had not seen rest sat before the grandiose instrument.
He ran his slender fingers over the many keys as though fondly touching somebody precious to him.
["The piano. An instrument brought into this world not by the ingenuity of our own inventors, but a gift from an Outlander. Sometimes, it saddens me to think about it. That the people we hunt once gave us such beautiful gifts."]
The crowds of hundreds were drowned out; it was just him and the keys, to which he tapped with his fingers. He didn't look upon any notes, only pressing each of the ivories at his own tune.
