Page 26 of Tainted Empire
I give her a small smile, grateful for her support. “Thank you, Lee. I just wish... I wish things could be simpler.”
“We both know life in our world is anything but simple,” she replies with a wry smile. “But sometimes, it’s the complicated paths that lead to the most beautiful destinations.”
Her words linger in the air as I ponder my next steps. Mikhail’s offer has opened a door, one I never expected to see. Now, it’s up to me to decide whether to step through it or close it behind me.
As I sit there, surrounded by the remnants of my performance and the echoes of Mikhail’s confession, I realize that, for the first time in a long while, the choice is truly mine.
The next day finds me walking into the archives again, the echoes of yesterday’s revelations still swirling in my head. I need this distraction, a moment to lose myself in something other than the confusion last night left me with.
As I step into the room, the sound of a piano being played beautifully fills the air, the melody rich and emotional. The music guides me, and I find myself drawn towards its source.
There, seated at the grand piano, is a man wearing a black suit with long curly dark hair. His build is big and muscular, reminiscent of Mikhail, but there’s a gentleness to his presence that immediately puts me at ease.
I stand there for a moment, just listening, letting the music wash over me. When the piece comes to an end, I can’t help but applaud softly. The man turns towards the sound of my clapping, a warm smile spreading across his face.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice smooth and inviting. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”
“I hope you don’t mind. Your playing is incredible,” I reply, stepping closer. “I’m Gabriette.”
“Nice to meet you, Gabriette. I’m Devon,” he introduces himself, his smile reaching his eyes which flicker towards me but don’t quite meet mine.
“You have a remarkable talent, Devon,” I comment, genuinely impressed. “I don’t usually find myself drawn to the keys, but today, whatever you were playing spoke to me on a different level.”
It honestly did. His playing reminded me of my piece last night, and it’s not often that I meet a pianist with that kind of talent.
“Thank you,” he says simply. “So, what brings you to the archives so soon after your incredible performance, Gabriette?”
“I’m here to dive into some archived recordings,” I explain, then I realize what he had just said. “You saw me play last night?”
“Of course. Mr Orlov wouldn’t stop talking about a protege and that I simply had to see it myself, and I have to admit, he was correct. Your piece even had my wife in tears,” he chuckles. “And that sounds like a wonderful way to spend the day. I often come here to play. Music is... it’s everything to me.”
I notice how his fingers linger on the keys, how he seems to feel the music more than just hear it. “You play like you’re telling a story,” I observe.
He smiles, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Every piece has its own story, its own soul. I just try to bring it to life.”
As we talk, I find something quite odd. His gaze doesn’t quite meet mine, and he seems to rely more on sound and touch to navigate the conversation and his surroundings.
It’s when he stands to leave, reaching for a cane propped against the other side of the piano, that it becomes apparent.
Devon is blind.
The revelation catches me off guard, a mix of surprise and admiration washing over me.
“I didn’t realize...” I trail off, unsure of how to respond without seeming insensitive.
“That I’m blind?” he finishes for me, his tone light and devoid of any discomfort. “Yes, I am. It’s not something that’s immediately noticeable when I’m seated at the piano, I suppose.”
His casual acknowledgment and the ease with which he speaks about his blindness leave me both impressed and slightly embarrassed for not having realized sooner.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I start to apologize, but he waves it off gracefully.
“No need to apologize, Gabriette. It’s quite alright. Music is more about feeling than seeing, anyway,” he says with a chuckle. “In fact, in some ways, I find it liberating. The piano keys are my eyes. They allow me to see the beauty of the world in ways that are unique to me.”
His words and attitude towards his blindness are both humbling and inspiring. The way he speaks about music, with such passion and depth, reminds me of the power and resilience of the human spirit.
“It’s incredible how you turn it into something so positive,” I say, genuinely moved.
Devon smiles, a soft, thoughtful expression. “Life is full of challenges, but also opportunities. Sometimes, what seems like a limitation can open up a whole new world.”