Listening to hours and hours of your own performance has a mesmerizing effect on one’s body. Any musician should know this. Over time, your fingers and body automatically mimic the motions to produce the sounds, and as you detect imperfections in previous works, you can feel very distinctly the error you made. Like physical pain, it is something you notice.

The deeper one digs into this hole, the less sane they become. Words start becoming rhythmic. Sounds from everyday objects ring out in tune. The mind rewires itself into a state where music is above all other bodily functions, and at times, you can go without food or water for days without needing it.

This was the state Loren Dames was currently in.

His violin wasn’t in sight. His manager had forbade him from listening to music. And the only light came from distant cities they passed, as the train road along the tracks.

But in his mind, Loren was playing a solo for thousands of people.

He was sweating, and his ears were attuned, able to pick up the sounds that didn’t exist. A true state of musical euphoria. If there was nobody else in the world, he could continue doing this for the rest of eternity.

A heavy knock on the suite door broke him from the trance.

“Yes~? Who is it?”

“It’s Ms. L-lenz...” the woman called from the other side of the door. “Mr. Holden wanted me to g-get you…”

“He needs me? For what, dearie?”

“Uh...I’m not sure...should I go back and ask? I hope he doesn’t get mad…”

She sounded like a wounded animal, so Loren decided to take pity on her. He went to the door and unlocked it, letting the sliding door swing open with a sigh. She was a new hire, scouted as someone wanting to get into the agent side of the industry. But like many of the other wannabe agents Loren had ever seen, this girl had nothing to make her stand out. She was plain, covered in freckles and wide-rimmed glasses, with frazzled hair. The type of person who automatically looks disheveled, even after spending hours getting themselves prepared. Her shy personality didn’t make it much better.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Lenz,” Loren said, stretching himself out. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Mick has a reason. Bring me. I’ve forgotten where he was staying, though I do at least recall that it wasn’t in this car. He’s too keen on saving money, so first class is automatically off the table. But as you can see, there are many benefits.” When he finished, he swung his arm wide to display the insides of his cabin.

But to a normal person, it probably didn’t seem like much. Well, that’s because Loren wasn’t normal.

All the furniture was rearranged specifically so he had plenty of open space in the middle of his room to move. It was dark, and even though there were perfectly fine lights to use, Loren chose only to use candles, simply because they were more aesthetic. Loren himself was almost completely naked, wearing only a pair of briefs, and his body was coated in sweat.

“A-ah...sure…”

A breeze rolled in through his open window, but he was warm enough not to feel it. Ms. Lenz, on the other hand, shivered. That made Loren snort slightly.

“Please, lead the way, Ms. Lenz.”

“Right...follow me…”

Loren grabbed a trench coat from the coatrack in his room and chased after the secretary, making sure to nod and smile to everyone they passed. He enjoyed being nice. It was his sole purpose in life to make people happy, after all. Some children thought he was strange for walking around, but he gave them a wave anyway as their parents ushered them away.

When they entered Mick Holden's room, the manager, the difference between the two men was as clear as night and day. Stacks of paper and books were stacked together on the tiny desk provided, and even more spilled out onto the man’s bed. It seemed unlikely he would even get sleep, and the dark bags underneath his eyes only solidified that notion. When he saw the two arrive, he stopped what he was doing and stood.

After a second, he realized how Loren looked and scowled.

“Are you kidding me? Walking around like that? You look like some kind of freaking pervert! Have you no decency or sense?”

“Ha. I’m no pervert, you know that,” Loren responded without a care in the world. “If anyone thinks I am, I’ll just tell them otherwise. This is me at my most comfortable, and my hope is that it’ll make others able to express their forms of comfort.”

“Well, it’d be comfortable for me if you didn’t walk around half naked,” Mick grumbled. Then, he cleared his throat. “Ahem. Is your practice going well?”

“It is. I’d like to have my violins back, but I’m sure you’re against that?”

“I am. No touching them until we get to Paris. I don’t want you accidentally wearing them all out again. That cost us how much money?”

“Ehhhh...I don’t remember. Lots, probably?”

Loren smiled widely, even though he was being scolded. Mick just couldn’t penetrate the whimsical layers to get anything into the musician’s head. But perhaps that was what made him such a star. That incredible personality.

“Hmm. I guess as long as you understand that, we’re good,” Mick said. He looked to Ms. Lenz. “Ms. Lenz. Can you produce the letter we received earlier?”

“T-the...letter..?”

“Are you joking? The letter. That you. Found earlier. That was the entire reason I sent you to grab Loren. How can you be so stupid!?” At the end, his temper hit its limit and he shouted, loud enough to make Ms. Lenz tear up and flinch.

“Ahh! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I forgot it! I’ll be right back!”

The young girl dashed out of the small cabin, almost ramming herself headfirst into the door, then after she opened it, almost right into the conductor. She apologized profusely the entire time, her arms flapping around spastically like a flightless bird. The two men watched her leave with confusion, though both were confused for different reasons.

“She’s kinda high strung, isn’t she,” Loren said. “When was the last time she had a vacation?”

“I just hired her,” Mick said. “She was unemployed before that, according to her resume. That means she just got off vacation.”

“I wish I had a vacation…”

“Almost everyday is a vacation for you...you bastard! Don’t you realize how tough it is for me to keep your entire schedule together and in good shape?”

“It can’t be that hard if you do it so well, can it?”

There was no point in trying to argue with Loren, so Mick just growled aimlessly and sat back down. He offered a stool in the room to Loren, who graciously accepted it. Moments later, the secretary returned to the room with a crumpled envelope in her hand.

“Here! I have it! Please f-forgive me!”

“Great, let Loren take a look,” Mick said, directing the letter to the musician. As Loren lazily read it through, Mick explained the basics of it, since he knew Loren had minor dyslexia and probably couldn’t understand much. “Basically, this is a threat on your life. I know we’ve had these before, but there’s something specific about this one that worries me. The person who sent it...Jackal...is a top tier assassin who lives in Paris. Apparently one of the best in the underground, known for their ability to leave bloody messes, just like the mythical jackals that used to roam around in africa.

“I’m not sure exactly why this ‘Jackal’ person is so keen on hunting you down, but I have some ideas. Someone is paying them to try and scare you. Otherwise, why would they even send a letter in the first place? This is probably some conservative group’s attempt at trying to silence you; make you afraid of spreading your rhetoric in Paris, since they’re in a bit of a recession at the moment.”

Loren tilted his head to the side.

He was a classical violinist, one with such skill and technique that he often carried orchestras on his own name recognition alone. But years ago, he broke out of that scene thanks to his decision to use the concert stage as a place to promote progressive ideals. He was an advocate for all sorts of things, many of them aligned with the revolutionary sentiments that flowed throughout United Europe.

Because of his political actions, there were plenty of people who disliked him. But on the other hand, there were many more who looked up to him, and even though he couldn’t really care about being a hero, many tried to follow in his ideal. Though he didn’t understand it, lots of places he had performed at had electoral changes thanks to his outreach.

“Wait, so someone is trying to kill me?”

“That’s the way it seems,” Mick said. His face was grim, but he was trying to sound as confident as possible. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. There just so happens to be a man in Paris I know who deals with this sort of stuff. I just wanted to let you know, since this might change how our trip goes.”