News

When Musa picked up the novel, he was struck by an overwhelming shock at the change in the book's cover. It had transformed from an image of a standing door, with a man and a woman surrounded by green plants and a soft blue sky above them, into something entirely different.

The cover was now completely black, and in the center were two wide-open purple eyes, staring intensely as if they were alive, gazing straight into the hands of the one holding the book.

'A pitch-black void… raven-purple eyes… these are the same visions from my dream on the cover… Damn it, this novel really is connected to the changes in my dreams.'

Despite the unsettling sight, Musa managed to keep his composure. Quickly, he analyzed and linked the changes in his dreams to the novel.

He wasted no time and flipped through the book's pages. 'The words are the same… It's the same novel I was reading. Nothing new… It seems like only the cover has changed.'

Musa closed the book again to take another look at the cover. 'Just as I expected, it returned to normal.' This time, the change did not surprise him.

He remained seated on his bed, staring at the novel in his hands, waiting for any further transformations, but nothing happened.

Hours passed, and the sun rose, bringing the bustling sounds of street vendors into his ears.

The voices of merchants in the street grew louder and more numerous with each passing second—some calling out for fresh fruit, others selling grilled fish, drinks, or bread, among other things.

Musa placed the novel back on the bookshelf in his room. After hours of observation, he had realized that merely staring at it wouldn't trigger any changes. He decided to put it away for now.

'The changes in my dream started after I read the first chapter, and the cover changed after I woke up. Maybe the more I read, the more transformations occur. I should start from here—I'll read the second chapter tonight before going to sleep.'

With that thought, Musa formed a preliminary plan for his investigation.

After deciding on his next steps, he changed out of his pale yellow shirt and plain brown trousers into a blue home pajama set. He feared his sister's scolding if she found out he had slept in anything other than his usual home clothes.

Musa left his room and headed to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he washed his hands and face, removing the bandage wrapped around his head and left eye.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, focusing on his left eye—a bluish-green hue, with a clock hand frozen at the six o'clock mark. "It's still way too early," he thought to himself.

Musa knew that the clock hand in his eye changed every hour, but there were no minute or second hands—only the hour hand.

After finishing his brief observation, he replaced the headband and exited the bathroom. As soon as he stepped out, he saw the apartment door opening from the outside.

"Good morning. We were out of bread, so I went to restock," his sister, Bethel, said playfully as she returned from outside, carrying a small bag of bread for breakfast.

"Wow… What an enormous stockpile," Musa remarked, half-joking and half-exasperated as he eyed the tiny bag.

Financially speaking, Bethel and Musa weren't well-off, but they weren't entirely destitute either. His sister worked as a children's teacher at an old school in their neighborhood, Hallway District. Her salary was only six francs per month—a decent amount if she lived alone, but she had to support Musa's education as well.

Musa was still a student in the arts department at Rivarin University. His greatest dream had always been to become a violinist.

"Haah, stop complaining. This is all I can afford with my salary. A bag of bread costs ten rubies—if we economize, we can manage to get one every week," Bethel said, half joking and half scolding, as she placed the bread on the table.

In the Kingdom of Britain, the official currency was the franc. One franc consisted of fifteen rubies, and each ruby was made up of thirty fils.

A breadwinner from the poor class in Britain usually earned between thirty fils—equivalent to a single ruby—up to, at most, two francs per month. Most of them starved to death.

As for the middle class, their earnings ranged from four to ten francs per month, categorizing them as the lower middle class. Meanwhile, the upper middle class earned between fifteen to fifty francs per week—amounting to sixty to two hundred francs per month—which was more than enough to live a lifestyle akin to that of the wealthy and the nobility. They could eat whatever they wished and host or attend as many gatherings as they liked, though, of course, within certain limits.

The rich, or the upper class, earned vast sums. A family's breadwinner in this class made anywhere between five hundred to a thousand francs per week, totaling between two to four thousand francs per month.

And then, there were the elites—those whose monthly earnings were unknown, potentially reaching millions. This class could rule entire nations with their wealth alone, manipulating them as they pleased, controlling the influence of governments and monarchs, and monopolizing economies entirely for their own benefit—while leaving the common people to suffer in poverty, hunger, disease, and death, picking them off one by one.

Musa aspired to become a violinist and join a prestigious orchestra—one of those elite ensembles that performed at state galas and private events. Such musicians held high status in society, and their earnings typically ranged from fifty to two hundred francs per week. His goal was to lift himself and his older sister out of poverty.

But deep in his heart, Musa longed to be a free musician—one who traveled the world, composing his own pieces and dazzling everyone who set foot on his land. That had been his dream before he set his sights on building a better life for himself and his sister, who had always supported him whenever he needed her. In the depths of his soul, he felt he owed her that much, even if it meant giving up on his own dream.

After placing the bread on the table, Bethel made her way to the kitchen. "Are you going to university today?" she asked her brother.

"My vacation hasn't ended yet…," Musa reminded her.

Bethel smacked her forehead. "…Then come and make yourself some breakfast," she said after a brief pause.

Without saying a word, Musa headed to the kitchen, taking half a loaf of bread from the table. He pulled out a jar of black honey from the pantry and made himself a sandwich.

In Britain—and across the world—this was the dawn of the electrical age. Household appliances such as refrigerators, electric radios, and televisions had begun to emerge. However, due to their financial struggles, the Suleiman siblings couldn't afford any of those luxuries. Instead, they still relied on food storage containers to keep their meals from spoiling or turning sour.

Musa sat down on the couch in their small apartment, picking up a newspaper that had been left on the side of the sofa. He began to read.

"Trust Bank robbers arrested."

"The leader of the group confessed that they are affiliated with the 'After death' Organization.'"

"The government has begun preparations for retaliation."

That news dominated the front page of the newspaper, meaning it was the most important .

'That organization again… Haven't they had enough?' Musa thought to himself.

His knowledge of the after death Organization was limited. All he knew was that it had emerged around seventy years ago, after the reign of King Michael III of Britain. Its purpose and the reason for its existence remained a mystery to him and most of the common folk.

Musa continued flipping through the newspaper, searching for any other significant news, until his eyes gleamed upon reading a particular headline—The King's Orchestra is searching for a violinist.

This was a huge opportunity for him—a chance to escape poverty if he managed to join. Without wasting a second, he rushed to the kitchen, holding the newspaper.

"The King's Orchestra is looking for a violinist!" he exclaimed to his sister, pointing to the article.

"That newspaper is from the day before yesterday… I think you're a bit late," Bethel replied before adding, "That is, if you're lucky and they still haven't found a candidate yet—though I doubt it. Many aspire to join the King's Orchestra."

Musa's expression shifted between hope and despair before he finally said, "But not all of them are skilled… Why not try my luck? If they've already found their violinist, I'll give up." He paused, then smiled brightly at the future he envisioned. "But if they haven't… this might be my chance to seize it and… get us out of this place. We could live in the King's palace!"

Bethel looked at him with a warm smile, one that carried a mix of joy, hope, anticipation, and sorrow—for she knew this had never been his true goal.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go apply!" Bethel urged her brother.

Musa hurried toward the door… only to stop suddenly and turn to his sister.

"Where do I go to apply?"

Bethel burst into laughter before wiping the tears from her eyes. "Always in a rush… Look at the newspaper, the details will definitely be there."

Musa nodded in agreement and lifted the newspaper, rereading the article.

"The royal palace announces that the King's violinist has left the orchestra due to illness."

"The orchestra is searching for a new violinist to fill the vacancy."

"Anyone who believes they possess the talent is invited to apply for the position."

"Auditions will be conducted by the finest musicians and artists in the kingdom."

"The auditions will take place at the biggest theater in each city, starting from the 28th of April until the 7th of May."

Musa read the announcement in his mind before voicing it aloud. "The biggest theater in the city… The biggest theater in Riveren is Berg Theater."

"Today is the 26th of April—there are still two days before the auditions begin," he added.

His sister, who had just finished washing the kitchen dishes, turned to him. "That's great—two extra days of practice. You should make the most of them."

Musa nodded. "That's exactly what I plan to do… I'm heading out now. I'll go to the university—I don't know a better place to practice."

"Excellent! Go for it!" Bethel encouraged him, shaking her hands in excitement.

Musa smiled at her, then glanced down at himself. "I almost went out without changing my clothes."

"Pfft!" Bethel laughed hysterically. "Even I didn't notice!"

The siblings chuckled before Musa made his way to his room to change. Instead of his usual shrunken white shirt and brown trousers, he pulled a crisp white shirt from his closet and took his black coat from the hanger.

By the end, he was dressed in a neatly buttoned white shirt, black trousers, and a black double-breasted coat. He looked remarkably elegant in those clothes.

He didn't bother combing his hair—his slightly messy, dark greenish-black locks, along with their length, only added to his charm.

After finishing his final adjustments in front of the full-length mirror in his room, he stepped out.

"Wheewww!" He heard his sister whistle before teasing, "Look at this handsome gentleman… I wish you dressed like this all the time."

Musa smiled shyly. "If only I didn't have this bandage wrapped around my head and left eye… I would have princesses falling in love with me." He joked.

Bethel chuckled. "You only act this confident in moments like these… Now, go on, get going. Good luck!"

Musa nodded with a smile before heading for the door. He stepped out of the apartment and descended the wooden stairs until he reached the street.

As soon as he exited, he walked through the old, impoverished alleyway. Then, he began making his way through the bustling streets of Riveren, passing by pedestrians and street vendors—both stationary and wandering.

After walking for a while, he suddenly spotted someone standing in the middle of the road, looking straight at him with a faint smile.

Musa was surprised to see that person.

He had bronze skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, standing at a height somewhere between 175 and 180 centimeters.

It was the same young man Musa had had met in front of Donovan's house yesterday