As a former religious school, St. Aideen Academy had its own grand auditorium, a towering structure with a high dome situated right at the center of the campus—a symbolic monument to the divine.
Yet, after nearly two centuries, the light of the Lord had long since faded. This hall, once used for prayer, confession, and worship, was no longer under divine authority.
Now, it was controlled by the Student Council, one of their rentable assets.Rental fee: 300,000 yen per day.
"Why are you here?"
It was after school, and the head of the String Club wasn't gathering with his members in their usual clubroom. Instead, he headed toward the center of the campus.
But as they approached their destination, they noticed another group arriving. Upon seeing its leader, the faint smile on his face immediately dropped, replaced by suspicion and a questioning tone.
"Shouldn't that be my question?" retorted the head of the Wind Club, her usual composed, ladylike expression sharpening into a cutting edge at the sight of her counterpart.
Both of these club leaders were third-year students at St. Aideen High, the remaining members of the once-mighty Classical Music Club after its infamous split. Naturally, they could barely stand each other.
It wasn't to the point of fighting on sight, but a few barbed remarks and trash talk were almost a necessary ritual.
In contrast, the leader of the last group was much calmer. The Choir Club's head was a second-year girl, unaware of past conflicts and largely uninterested in such petty grudges—a sentiment shared by most members.
"Mocking and testing each other is a waste of time," she said bluntly, avoiding any unnecessary conflict. "We were contacted by Mio-sensei. She rented the auditorium and asked the Choir Club to come for a rehearsal for the school festival in a month."
"We're in the same situation," the String Club and Wind Club leaders said simultaneously.
Noticing the overlap in their voices, they shot each other a fierce glare.
"Don't mimic me!"
The Choir Club leader sighed, clearly exasperated, and led her members onward, ignoring the two seniors who had been at odds for over two years.
Whether Mio-sensei had simply made a mistake or had other motives, it seemed she had indeed rented the hall. If they could get there first, they could gain an advantage in the competition for the auditorium. More effective than exchanging barbs, this was the smartest approach.
Seeing this, the String Club and Wind Club leaders also fell silent and hurried toward the center of the campus.
When they finally opened the grand doors of the auditorium, they found it was not empty.
At the center of the stage stood a boy, quietly poised, holding a bow in one hand while his other hand stabilized a large instrument resting near his chest.
Being members of music clubs, they immediately recognized it: a double bass.
The enormous instrument stood obediently by the boy, waiting for the moment it would be played.
In front of him stood two girls in formal attire. One had brilliant pink hair like cherry blossoms, the other deep black hair like ink. They held hands and waited quietly in the center of the stage, as if anticipating something.
"What are you doing here? This is where our advisor rented space for us to practice—"
Before the words could escape, a deep, soft sound filled the hall.
Seemingly anticipating their intrusion, the boy began playing.
The question remained unspoken, trapped in their chests.
The double bass formed the foundation of the ensemble, providing the basic rhythm. Normally, this massive instrument is played slowly, but such deliberate pacing highlighted the boy's extraordinary skill.
Every member present, steeped in music, recognized immediately that his ability was nearly at a professional level—the kind that could fill Vienna's Golden Hall. Listening to such a performance was pure fortune.
As the music flowed, the two girls standing beside Hara Kei parted their lips and began to sing:
"Freude, nicht diese Töne!""Sindn lasst uns angenehme anstimmen, und friedvolle.""Freude! Freude!"
Chika Fujiwara had learned multiple languages from her diplomat mother, which allowed her to naturally sing the German lyrics of Ode to Joy, written by the famous poet Schiller.
Though still slightly unpolished, the girls' performance clearly showed the guidance of a professional—Touma Yoko. For a single song, they were remarkably competent.
Yet as the music progressed, an indescribable emotion filled the room.
Ode to Joy is part of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, meant to be performed with double bass, viola, violin, piano, clarinet, horns, timpani, and more. While the boy's double bass and the girls' voices were excellent, the contrast highlighted a certain emptiness—a missing element.
"Click."
Unable to endure the incompleteness, one girl stepped forward. To everyone's surprise, Touma Yoko leapt onto the stage, carefully maneuvering past the three, and opened the lid of the grand piano.
Gentle piano notes flowed, like a fresh spring merging into the ocean of Ode to Joy.
This gesture was just the beginning. Following the piano came the viola and violin, then the clarinet, the horns, and the voices of the Choir Club members…
That afternoon, the hymn of joy filled the grand auditorium.