LXII ※ How to Ruin a Legacy in One Cello Solo: Eileithya’s Plot to Make Me Question Everything

Daisuke's point of view

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We all stood there, frozen, as the music from Eileithya's cello filled the room. It was like nothing I had ever heard before—its sound gripped the air around us, a melody so hauntingly beautiful it almost seemed to take control of our thoughts. Each note bled emotion, a kind of pain and longing that tugged at something deep inside me. I clenched my hands at my sides, trying desperately to maintain my composure, but the music, damn it, it was too much. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be this good. She wasn't supposed to possess such talent.

The cello—a simple instrument, yet in her hands, it became something otherworldly. There was no way she could play like this, not without proper lessons, not without years of practice. She had no training, nothing to justify the skill she was displaying now, yet here she was, performing flawlessly, captivating the entire room with her playing. I couldn't understand how this was happening, how someone who had never once shown the slightest inkling of such talent could suddenly be so... perfect.

Why her? Why now?

I couldn't fathom it. I had never seen this side of her before. Eileithya had always been quiet, almost invisible, and certainly not the kind of person who would ever show us any of this. She was never the center of attention. She had always kept her distance, never revealed anything about herself that could set her apart. And yet here she was, playing like she had been trained in secret for years. Why? Why had she chosen this moment, of all moments, to reveal this hidden talent? Was this some kind of test? A challenge? Was she trying to provoke me? To show me up in front of everyone?

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced it was all deliberate. She had always been so meek, so quiet, always in the background, and yet now, suddenly, she was the star of the show, and she was doing it all so gracefully, so effortlessly. It was as though she was toying with me, with all of us. But why? What was her aim? Was this some form of rebellion, an attempt to defy me, to make me feel small, insignificant?

The thoughts swirled in my head, and I could feel my anger rising. She had always been nothing but a background character in my life, someone who I could overlook, someone I could dismiss without a second thought. But now she was playing like a prodigy, commanding attention in a way I could never have imagined.

Why was she acting so polite? So composed?

If I were in her shoes, after everything that had happened, I would have exploded. I would have lost my temper, fired back at Ismene for slapping her across the face, for humiliating her so publicly. But Eileithya didn't do that. No, she kept her cool, her composure intact, as if nothing had happened. She didn't retaliate. She didn't even flinch. She took it all with grace, with a kind of calm that made my sister look like a child. And that infuriated me even more. My sister, who was a Royal, who should have been the one who stood tall, was the one who was made to look small, weak, petty. And Eileithya was the one who looked noble, the one who held herself together when everything in me wanted to see her fall apart.

Ismene had been wrong, I knew that. She had acted out of anger, out of her own hurt and pride, and I couldn't entirely blame her for that. She was my sister, after all, and she had been through a lot. But even still, this situation—it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. My sister, who had always been so strong, so unyielding, was now the one humiliated, the one brought low by this girl who had, up until this point, barely even been part of our world.

And the worst part? The part that gnawed at me? I couldn't figure out why Eileithya was acting this way. No one liked her. No one had ever liked her. Even Avy, despite their supposed friendship, had never truly embraced her. So why now? Why was she suddenly acting like she was above it all, as if she was the noble one, the virtuous one? What was she trying to prove? Was this some kind of game she was playing, a performance to make us all see her in a different light? Was she trying to make me, or my family, look bad? Was she trying to provoke me specifically? Make me look like the villain?

The more I thought about it, the more I started to believe it was all a game to her.

Then, my thoughts drifted back to that strange comment she had made earlier, the one about Avy.

Had Avy really forced Eileithya to witness her own death? Had she made her swear, on her life and on the Gods, that she wouldn't speak of it? I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it.

No. It didn't make sense. If that had happened, if Eileithya had truly been placed in such a position, it would have destroyed her. It would have destroyed everything between us. It would have torn her apart. If it were true, she would be just like us—lost, broken, abandoned. But that wasn't the Eileithya I knew. She wasn't broken, at least not in the way we were. She had always been a mystery to me, someone who kept her cards close to her chest, but not someone who would carry around something so dark, so twisted.

Yet here she was, claiming she had been forced into some kind of oath, and I didn't know whether to believe her or not. I couldn't fathom why she would say something like that. It made no sense. If she had really seen something that horrifying, it would have shattered her. But that would also make her just like the rest of us—damaged beyond repair. And I couldn't bear to see that. Not from her. Not from someone I had once dismissed so easily.

I turned to look at my sister's empty seat. My stomach twisted. Avy wouldn't have done that. She wouldn't have put Eileithya through something so cruel, so heartless. I knew my sister—knew her better than anyone—and she wasn't the type to manipulate someone like that, to use them for her own benefit. It wasn't like her. She would never have dragged someone through something so dark, so twisted.

And yet Eileithya was acting like she was the victim, like Avy was the one who had wronged her, when the truth was, I knew my sister was never that type of person.

But Avy was dead. And now, Eileithya was stirring the pot, turning everything upside down, trying to make my sister look bad when she wasn't here to defend herself. Was that the game she had been playing all along? To make my sister look like the villain? To tarnish her memory?

I could feel the heat building in my chest, my fists tightening at my sides. She claimed she loved my sister, that she loved Avy more than anything in the world. But where was that love now? Where was it when it mattered? It didn't show. Not in her actions. Not in anything she did. She hadn't even come to the funeral. And yet, here she was, claiming that she had loved Avy more than anything. It was lies. All lies.

I couldn't believe it. Not for a second.

Was she lying about everything?

Had Avy really asked her to do all of those things? To train with her, to help her with things she wasn't ready for? Was it Avy who had pushed her, made her go out of her way for her? Was that really what had happened, or was Eileithya just inventing all of it?

No. I couldn't believe it. It didn't add up. My sister would never have used her like that. Not in the way Eileithya was describing. She wouldn't have made her do things for her just because she could. Avy had the entire Royal staff to assist her with anything she needed. She didn't need Eileithya for that. She had no reason to use her.

And yet, there were the paintings—those perfect, flawless paintings that I found in Eileithya's room. There were the assignments that she had supposedly done on her own, without a single mistake. And the music? The instruments? Was she really trying to convince me, to convince everyone, that all of these things were her own doing, that she had mastered them all without any help? Was she really passing all of this off as her own accomplishments, trying to make us believe she had done it all alone?

And every time we asked her to help us with something? She would always refuse. Always say she was too busy, always claim that she had something more important to do, something she was working on that couldn't be interrupted.

But my sister—Avy—she wouldn't have lied like that. She wasn't the type to lie about things, about her talents, her skills. No, it was Eileithya. She was the liar, not Avy. And I would make sure that everyone knew it.