Chapter Text
Never in my life have I cared much about fame or fortune.
It may seem strange for a rather successful songwriter to feel this way, but I’ve always preferred a quiet lifestyle. My name is well known for my music, but my person isn’t famous. I like staying at home, and I avoid socializing. I am almost never recognized in public, but I don’t mind. I never perform any of my songs, as I’d rather leave that to famous, extraordinary singer millionaires with big voices and confidence.
For me, a quiet, modest life is what suits me best. I am an introvert, after all. Unless I’m out buying my week’s groceries or stopping at the post office, I can most likely be found in my living room, reading a novel and drinking cinnamon tea out of one of my prized delicate teacups.
Even though I prefer the quiet loner lifestyle, I live in one of the most bustling cities in all of America: New York. Every night there are partiers, there are drunk men and women laughing and strolling the streets filled with cars. There is never a quiet or still moment. The people never hush, never stop moving, and they never sleep.
Some days, I wish that I had moved to a peaceful rural home tucked away in between miles and miles of farmland. Then I could always focus; I could write ten songs in a month, or perhaps even twenty. But alas, I live in this industrial hellscape surrounded by filth of all kinds.
My luck is about to change, however. You see, I've been saving up enough money to buy my own home outside the loud city. Although I’m only a songwriter, I have myself a loyal patron. Whoever they are, they’ve been purchasing almost every recent song I have written. In fact, they have even bought some of my very first songs which are far from masterpieces.
I have my eyes set on a small cottage in a neighborhood far outside of the city. The area is filled with tall, leafy trees which let you hide away. The house I am interested in is far back in its lot, and the front lawn has many tall trees and bushes. It’s always shady and cool and best of all: secluded. That’s where I wish to go, where I want to stay. I don’t need anyone else other than myself, and no one else wants me, either.
The only reason I have dragged myself into the city today is to sell my latest song, “The Woman in the Diamond Dress”. Like all of my other pieces, the song is slow and romantic, and the singer is accompanied by the piano.
I always wished to become a famous singer in my childhood years. I used to dance to records, sing along to the voices of beautiful female singers, and I even used to dance. I have since grown out of my singing phase and entered my composing phase, only making songs for others to sing and dance to, to achieve their dreams to. I still enjoy playing the piano, however, and I enjoy each of my creations in my own way. I enjoy knowing that others love the songs I created, that others purchase my hard work and support my own ambitions.
“G’morning, Miss Megurine,” the man at the counter said to me as he took his cigarette out of his mouth, “you in to sell some scores?”
I set the score on the counter in front of him, the white, frilly sleeve of my dress flowing onto the countertop. “I’ve been working on polishing this song for months, I think it’ll be great.”
He took the pages in his hand and read them, his facial expression staying the same until he finished reading and he smiled. “This’ll be a big hit, Maam,” he said as he walked into his office behind the counter. He glanced at my hand on the counter then met my eyes. “Did you have any inspiration for this piece?”
I thought to myself, trying to decide on an answer before he spoke again. “I noticed you wear lots of rings, miss, so you must be married, right?” he asked.
I faked a smile. “No, I am not married, I just enjoy jewelry.”
“Oh, okay then.” He cleared his throat in the middle of the awkward silence, then turned towards me again. “There’s a person who’s already waiting to buy your next piece. They’ll be the first person to receive it.”
This news surprised me. I haven’t even had the music published yet and someone already wants it? I find it unusual, but now that I think about it, I do seem to have a very big fan. I’m suddenly very curious to know who it is; whoever they are, they’ve helped me achieve much of my success and earn much of my profits. “Who is it? The one who always buys my new songs?”
“Sorry, Megurine, I promised the person I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Why?”
“The singer told me that they wanted to surprise their guests with the newest song by the ‘famous songwriter Luka Megurine’.” He smirks. “I’ll tell ya this; this singer is pretty well-known in the city.”
I think more about the music purchaser as I walk back home. I wonder who it is; who cares so much about my music. Many of my songs are fairly well known, but they aren’t world-famous. There are many celebrities in New York, and that includes singers. Admittedly, I haven’t listened to very many famous singers recently. I spend most of my time on my own music, and practically all the music I hear nowadays is my own.
I can’t stop thinking about what the man at the counter had asked me. Marriage doesn’t interest me in the slightest, at least not a love he would think of.
The key to my front door opens as it always does, and I step inside. I set my purse on the coffee table in my living room and sit on my chair, as I always do, and I pick up the latest novel I’ve started.
I began to zone out at some point. When I read, sometimes the words blur in my mind and I just sit and think. This happens a lot when I’m thinking of new song ideas; I think of women singing my songs to large audiences, singing about romantic things like true love and whispered confessions. I think of them dancing and smiling, glowing in crystal chandelier light.
While my imagination runs free, I hear the doorbell ring. I don’t usually get visitors since I don’t have many close acquaintances and my family lives far away. I rise from my chair and walk to the door where I am greeted by a man in a dark-blue suit. It’s quite a nice suit and it makes him look like the butler of a beautiful estate.
I hesitate. “. . . Good morning, sir.”
He looks me up and down, observing me. “Good morning, Miss Megurine.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. It was pink with white lace and sealed with a red heart sticker, a gorgeous hand-made craft. It reminds me of a love letter in a romance book.
He holds the letter out for me to take and begins speaking again. “Madame Miku invites you to join her for her next party this Saturday at her home. All of the information you’ll need is included in this invitation, but If you have any questions at all, please contact us with the number inside the letter.” Once I take the letter in my hands, he bows in front of me as if I'm a monarch. “Good day, Lady Megurine.”
I bow my head as well. “Thank you. Good day to you, too.”
The man in blue walks away as I enter my home, closing the door behind me and looking at the back of the letter. There, in elegant handwriting, are the words “To Lady Megurine” written with a red fountain pen.
It’s unusual for me to receive such personalized letters. Usually, they’re from my mother or father, or maybe the manager at the office which publishes my music. The envelope was hand-made, thought through, and special.
I carefully open the envelope to avoid ripping any of the nice paper and slide the letter out. I unfold the matching pink paper and read more of that graceful writing in pen;
Lady Megurine, you have been personally invited to a ball hosted by the elegant Madame Miku. Miss Hatsune’s home on Long Island will provide guests with parking. Food, drinks, dancing, and music will be the stars of this ball, all provided by Miss Hatsune and her team of chefs and musicians.
Please join us for an exciting and fun evening. Below you will find Miss Hatsune’s address and the manor’s contact details. Please give us confirmation of your attendance.
As I read the letter it was easy for me to gather that this was one of the types of parties I try my best to avoid. Loud, excited crowds, drinking, and chaos. However, I can’t stop myself from staring at the invitation in wonder and curiosity. I have never heard of this “Madame Miku” woman, but she must be very successful if she can afford her own mansion and parties. Perhaps she has a wealthy husband or family, or maybe she was just another one of the many celebrities I completely ignore out of disinterest.
I contemplate my options, standing with my back against the front door. It would be in my nature to throw the invite away and continue on with my normal, peaceful life, but I can’t stop thinking about what a ball may be like. I have never attended one and I never planned to before, but now the opportunity was right in front of my eyes, written in gorgeous writing and wrapped in pink bows. Could this really be so bad?
With a sigh, I pick up my telephone and dial in the number written in my invite. After a short wait, a masculine voice greets me.
“Hatsune residence. Who may this be?” he asked.
“Hello, this is Miss Luka Megurine. I’m calling to confirm my appearance at Miss Hatsune’s party this weekend.” I wait and hear the man on the other side of the call sorting through papers.
“Ah yes! Thank you for calling, Lady Megurine. I’ll add you to our list of guests in just a second. Have a lovely day!”
“Of course, you too,” I reply. I set the phone back down with shaking hands and sat on the chair next to the side table. I let out a long sigh, thinking about my decision. Was it really the right thing to do? I know that I was personally invited, but I have no idea who Madame Miku is, and I’m not the party-going type. Maybe It would be best If I stay home like I always do and ignore the strange request.
But something in my heart was pulling me towards the party, like earth’s gravity making me fall through the sky and into the elegant ballroom. Perhaps it was the doing of the mysterious woman hosting the gathering. It was strange, really; the man on the phone’s excitement, them calling me “Lady Megurine” instead of Miss, the man coming directly to my door instead of mailing the letter to my apartment.
These thoughts race through my head as I pour myself a cup of tea and absorb the fragrance. There was still so much time left in the day, yet I have no plans, so I sit at the piano and play some of my favorite songs. It was a slow and beautiful waltz with small moments of excitement scattered throughout.
While I play, I imagine myself playing the piano in a fancy, flowing gown in a glowing ballroom. Inside, people slow dance to the music, embracing their lovers and swaying from side to side. In this ballroom, there is one woman who is different from all the others; she dances alone and feels the music, lets it mold her into shape and carry her across the tiled floor. She is illuminated by rays of light, her dress moving luxuriously as she lets the music conduct her body. She moves her arms graciously, like a bird flapping its wings, and her hair follows her petite figure. The woman possesses other-worldly beauty, and for a moment, she feels so real in my mind that I close my eyes in hope of seeing her.
When I finish playing the song, I lift my hands from the keys and look out my window as I feel my stomach growl. I had been so focused on my music that I had forgotten to eat lunch, and the position of the shade from the sidewalk trees tells me that it’s dinnertime already. I close the piano and put away the written score of my latest piece that I had been playing, then walk into the kitchen.
After taking my shower for the evening, I slip into my nightgown and climb into bed where my latest novel awaits my presence. I pick it up and find the paragraph I had left off on. Then, I began to read:
The two lovers danced to the music echoing through the palace. The prince led the princess’s steps as they moved through the room, never letting go of one another. The princess smiled up at him and he met her optimistic gaze, leaning in . . .
Almost a whole hour passed by. I look at my clock: eight-ten, it reads. So I sigh and cover myself with the sheet and blanket, and fall asleep after another day of my lonely life slips away from me.
And before I know it, the day of the ball is here.
It’s Saturday morning, the same day as the extravagant party. I only have but one plan for the rest of the day: buying a dress to suit the occasion.
It had come to mind the night before, while I lay in my sleeping gown, that an elegant gown would be best for this party and not one of my regular old dresses. I searched my closet but to no success. Today would be another day spent in the smell city.
Luckily, as I walk, I find a pleasant little clothing shop. I step inside and am already greeted by expensive gowns that would make anyone wearing it look absolutely divine. Dresses with sequents, small jewels, and fragile lace are hung across the walls.
As I admire all the beautiful dresses surrounding me, a woman walks up to me. “Hello, miss. Is there anything I can help you with today?”
I nod awkwardly, the same way I act in any social interaction. “Yes, um, I’m looking for a nice gown good for an elegant party, preferably one that isn’t too expensive.”
The woman nods and begins showing me numerous different options. As she walks down an aisle of clothing, she gasps and frantically plucks a hanger from its hook. She excitedly holds a long, light-pink dress with soft fabric and lace for me to observe. The dress also had small blue diamond-like beads outlining the neckline, a larger-looking one in the middle that looks like a genuine diamond.
“This dress would bring out the color of your eyes beautifully, while also matching the tint of your gorgeous hair! Pair it with some white gloves and heels, too, and a string of pearls, and you would look like a princess, I’m sure!”
I step behind a curtain while I put the dress on, seeing if it fits. Sure enough, the dress fits me perfectly, so I step out to show the woman. She practically squeals when she sees me again, circling my entire body and offering me other accessories to match.
“What a gorgeous outfit, miss!” she exclaims as she admires my full outfit. “Say, whose party are you attending? You sure are dolled up!”
I blush at the woman’s compliments. “Um, I’m attending a party this evening. It’s hosted by a woman named Madame Miku, if you've ever heard of her.”
Her jaw drops instantly at the name, her eyes wide in surprise, as if she doesn’t believe what I told her. “Madame Miku?! The Madame Miku?!”
I feel almost as surprised as her at her reaction. “Yes, is something wrong?”
“No, not at all! It’s just . . . Madame Miku has been rising in fame this year, and at every event she hosts, every seat in the operahouse or theater she plays in gets filled immediately! Many say that she’ll become the most famous woman in the world some day!”
My expression stays neutral, but on the inside, my mind is racing and my heart is beating much faster. How is someone like me invited to a party like that?
“Sorry, I just didn’t know who she was until now. I don’t really go out and listen to music much,” I reply pathetically.
The woman flaps her hand and smiles. “It’s alright, dear! Music just isn’t everyone’s thing, you know?”
I almost want to laugh at the unknowing woman’s statement; If only she knew how much I love music. But I guess we are both just two women in different parts of the music world.
I carry the dress and all the accessories the woman recommended to me to the counter. As I pull out my wallet, she watches me with a focussed expression.
“Just out of curiosity, what is your name, miss?” she asks.
I look up to reply. “Luka Megurine.”
She smiles. “Well, Miss Megurine, I hope you enjoy the party! Here’s your dress, and the rest is free—my treat.” She winks and hands me my things, and I walk back home to get myself ready for the evening. This evening would be my first time at a ball, and my first time hearing the voice of the famous Madame Miku.
Before I even enter the doors, I begin to wonder again if this is a big mistake.
There’s a line of loud cars waiting to park on the premises. There’s people laughing, talking to each other so loudly it could be classified as screaming at this point, and I already know that I don’t fit into this crowd. I’m quiet, reserved, and gloomy, and I don’t even know why I was sought out by this strange Miss Hatsune in the first place. Why would a woman like her care about meeting a woman like me?
Before I can really consider making my escape, a man with dark-blue hair places his gloved hand on my shoulder. I turn around and meet his gaze, and he speaks to me in a familiar voice.
“Lady Megurine! We’re so glad you’re here!”
“Oh, you’re the man who called me a few days ago!” I shake his hand and try my best to smile kindly. “Yes, I just arrived here minutes ago.”
The man smiles back and looks around me. “Say, are you here all alone tonight?”
I nod in response, a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I don’t know anyone here. In all honesty, I don’t even know who the hostess is, sir. What is your name, by the way?”
The man looks at me, surprised for a moment, then smiles apologetically. “You can call me Kaito, Lady Megurine. Please let me guide you inside—Madame Miku has a special seat for you to sit in in the ballroom.”
I follow the man, making small talk.
“So, why was I even invited to this party in the first place? If you don’t mind me asking.” I ask, still confused even though I feel much more welcome and at ease as Kaito guides me.
He scratches the back of his head nervously. “Oh . . . Madame Miku has actually wanted you to attend one of her parties for a few years now. We’ve sent you invitations in the mail previous years, but you never attended. We just assumed that you were too busy or the invitations got lost in the mail, so we delivered it personally this year in hopes you would attend.”
I feel guilt sweeping over me, and I look downwards as I walk. “I’m really sorry, but I really wasn’t aware I was ever invited! I live in a fairly cheap apartment, and my mail carrier often mixes our mail up or loses it.”
Kaito looks at me sadly. “Oh, I’m really sorry about that, Lady Megurine!”
I smile up at him. “It’s okay, Kaito. Soon, I’ll be moving into my very own home, so I won’t have to worry as much about things like that happening.”
The man looks at me, his expression becoming much happier. He has a very kind and reassuring smile, a comforting smile. We approach the front door and he opens it for me, and as I step inside, I feel as though I am blinded by light.
Golden picture frames, crystal chandeliers, and beautiful tile flooring shine in orange light, and I think that this is what a queen’s palace must look like. Every single thing inside the ballroom is gorgeous and elegant; the decor, the food, the music, and the people.
As we walk inside, Kaito places his hand on my upper back in a friendly manner to guide me through the loud and crowded room. We approach a table of delicious food, delicacies from different parts of the world all sit at the table.
“Please, help yourself to anything you’d like! When you come to sit down, you’ll be sitting right next to me on my right!” He began moving through the crowd, and soon, he disappeared. I search the room for his blue hair and find him walking up a flight of stairs to another part of the mansion, probably where the bedrooms are.
With nothing else to do, I begin making a plate of food to stall time. While I do, a man begins speaking with me, so I turn to look at him.
“Well, If it isn’t Miss Luka at a party by herself? Are ya having fun, Miss?” He laughed, and I recognized him as the man I always work with at the music shop. I stand up straight and greet him, chatting for a bit.
“Are ya excited to hear Miku sing t’night? I’ve heard she’s got a very angelic voice!” he yells to me in the loud crowd.
“I had never heard of her until now, it’s truly an honor to be invited.” As I speak, I see his mouth turn up into a smirk for just a moment, easy to miss. It truly is confusing, this whole night. Being invited by a famous singer I don’t know or even know about, Kaito being so excited, and now my acquaintance smirking at my words. As I walk with him, I see Kaito sitting down and many others beginning to do so as well, so I break away from my conversation with the man and head towards the table.
As I sit down next to him, the lights begin to dim until the large crystal chandelier is the only light illuminating the whole room. Excited chatter and whispers break out among the crowd and everyone in the room, and Kaito is smiling and looking up at the floor above. There is a platform, like a loft, and grand railing lining it, and it is very high above the tables. It would serve as a great stage for a performer, so I assume that it will soon.
“It’s always so fun seeing my sister sing,” Kaito whispers to me as he leans over towards me.
“You two are related? I didn’t know. So, she must look much like you, I assume?”
Before Kaito can answer, a man comes down the stairs and sits at the grand piano in the middle of one end of the ballroom, and the crowd quiets down. They all look up at the top of the stairs, mesmerized by what seems to be nothing. While the group watches patiently, the man at the piano begins to play a slow, soothing introduction, and I nearly spit out my wine.
The man is playing one of my songs! I can’t believe what I am hearing at all. I knew that some popular performers in New York sang and played my songs, but not musicians as rich as the singer who lived in this mansion.
Soon, I hear quiet gasps of excitement coming from the crowd, so I draw my attention also to the top of the grand staircase. The silhouette of a woman was coming into view, of which I assumed was this so-called Madame Miku, so I focussed my eyes and ears to watch and listen . . .
But soon, I cannot believe either.
The woman steps into the light and makes herself visible, and for a moment, I wonder if she is even real; her hair is so light-blue, it almost looks white in the light, and it’s as long as her body is tall. Her eyes, however, are a stunning diamond-blue color, much like mine, and they too shine brilliantly, just like a real diamond.
Her skin is pale and milky and clear, and it looks soft even from a distance. Her face, her figure, everything about her, is absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking. And as she begins to walk towards the middle of the platform to the stairs, her outfit comes into view: a dazzling diamond dress that glows beautifully in the chandelier’s light. The short dress sways with every step she takes, strings of white and silver-looking diamonds shimmering and wrapping around her waist and hips so attractively it could make a goddess self-conscious.
I become so focussed on admiring her, that the music completely vanishes from my ears. For me, silence fills the room and the only sounds are the quiet clinking of the jewels of the singer’s dress.
It’s only when she begins to sing that my ears are filled with a beautiful melody, but it only takes seconds to realize the melody I’m hearing.
It’s my latest song: the one I sold just days ago, the one I desperately wondered about, trying to think of who would buy it so quickly before even hearing it. The song is about a woman in a diamond dress. The person who waited so long for it was the woman singing now, singing it as she slowly walks down the stairs and onto the same floor as me. From where I sit, I can always see and hear her, her high and feminine and also strong voice that surrounds me.
Just being in the same room as her makes me feel as if I could cry. She feels like an unreachable dream, one that you chase forever only to be left behind by. Her grace and elegance in everything she does makes her look so fragile, yet also eternal, like an angel.
Before I know it, I’m pulling out my handkerchief and wiping away my tears, watching her sing even though it stings my eyes. The romantic lyrics leave her soft lips as if they were made for her.
For a short moment, our eyes meet. I blink and her gaze is averted, but my mind takes a mental photograph of the woman’s eyes for me to remember forever, like she’s still looking at me. Her eyes are calm and happy and so deep I feel myself drowning in them, those ocean eyes.
Soon, I sense the end of the song, the piano’s closing piece, and applause erupts throughout the ballroom and echoes, bouncing off the golden walls. Miku, now standing in the middle of the room, smiles and bows for the roaring crowd. Then, she begins to speak.
“Hello, everyone! Thank you all so much for attending!” Another roar from the crowd and applause so loud it hurts my eardrums breaks out, then quiets back down. “And also, thank you very much to those who go out and see my shows and performances. This party, and the success it celebrates, wouldn’t be possible without my fans!” Everyone is cheering and clapping and laughing hard, while I just sit quietly and clap my hands, knowing that she can’t hear it. Yet, as I applaud her, I swear she steals another short glance at me, and I look around for something astronomical that she could be looking at, but I see nothing.
“There’ll be food, drinks, and music to dance to all night long, so everyone enjoy yourselves!” At the end of her statement, she raises her hands in the air and people fly out of their chairs, partying and dancing and laughing as other instruments join the piano to play loud, jazzy music.
She begins walking in my direction, towards my table where me and Kaito sit together, and I feel myself getting nervous. Her approach is calm, but my heart won’t stop pounding with every step of her heels against the tile floor. Why am I so nervous? Is she really so intimidating?
Utter surprise takes over me as the Madame pushes out her chair and sits right next to her brother—and next to me.
Kaito claps his hands quietly, smiling. “Marvelous! It was amazing, Miku! And your outfit—how gorgeous!”
She smiles back. “Thank you so much, big brother.” Then, she turns to me, observing me like I’m a painting in a museum, watching me as I prepare to take another bite of my food.”Did you enjoy the piece, too? I mean—my singing.”
I quickly place my fork back on my plate with a loud clink sound and look up from my food, frantically wiping any food away from my mouth. I look like a mess, but her calm smile doesn’t go away. “Oh, yes—it was brilliant, M- Madame,” I answer awkwardly, but she doesn’t laugh or scowl; her smile only widens.
“As soon as I knew the fabulous composer Luka Megurine was about to release another song, I knew I had to buy it for myself as soon as possible—her music is just so beautiful and romantic, and I’ve listened to them all.” She paused.
“I’ve even sung them all.”
I feel a faint blush spread across my face. Does Madame Miku know that it’s me? She picked this seat for me so she must know . . .
“Miku, dear! Come visit our table!” a group shouts.
Before I can spiral into a panic, the singer stands up and walks closer to me, gently resting a hand on my shoulder as she stands behind me, talking quietly to me. “So, thank you, Miss . . . for writing that beautiful music.” Her feather-light touch leaves my shoulder as she walks away towards her friends.
All throughout the night, wherever she goes, my eyes can’t seem to help but follow her; that woman in that dazzling diamond dress.