Chapter 4: The Moment That Phrase Descends

♪ BGM: From Mozart's "Allegro K.3 (B-flat Major)"

Sounds descend from nowhere.
Like rain, like light. Suddenly, drip. Drip.

"Wolfi, write down that sound you just heard."

Father Leopold held out the music stand as if my fingers were receiving notes from the sky.

--Fa re si la si do fa fa so so la ra si...

Once the first sound fell, others followed one after another.
It was as if they were perfectly arranged, as if to say, 'Please, in that order.'

"Hey Papa, I didn't think of this. It came from over there."

"Where exactly is 'over there'...?"

Leopold was so surprised he accidentally slipped into a Kansai dialect.
Even so, he peered into his son's sheet music and read it over and over again.

"Wolfi... this is already a composition. And a proper 'finished' one at that. You, perhaps... have already begun."

*Wait, why are you guys suddenly Kansai people?

Music isn't something you 'think' about.

It's also a little different from 'feeling' it. For me, it was 'hearing' it.

Someone whispers in my head. Something trembles beyond the keyboard.
It's my hand that runs the pen across the sheet music, but perhaps... it's not my heart either. It's somewhere else entirely.

"What song is this?"

Mother peeked in softly and asked.

"Hmm... maybe it feels like 'my breakfast'?"

"Hehe, you're saying strange things again."

No, I'm telling you, it really is like that.
The morning sky is beautiful, there's the smell of bread, and a dog is wagging its tail.

To me, that is music.

And that is how K.3: Allegro (B♭ Major)
was born. People sometimes call it my "first composition," but to me, it feels more like...
"The first letter I ever received from someone I didn't know."

"Hello, Amadeo. You've finally realized it, haven't you?"

I felt as if I heard a voice from above the ceiling saying just that.

Heh heh, hah.

Music is truly mysterious.
The world speaks to me on its own. It's almost noisy. It's wonderful, isn't it?

*This story contains some fictional elements. While inspired by historical facts, Mozart is allowed to chat a bit freely in this little pink room.Heh heh, hah.