“What a group of impressive people.”
Seated in a chair, Thilan quietly studied the profiles of these individuals, thoughts surfacing in her mind. In the past, even one of these prodigies would’ve been someone she looked up to. But now, they were just inconsequential names on a list—whether selected or not, no one could really question her decision.
“So this is what power feels like… Will I one day become addicted to this sense of superiority too?”
She lightly tapped the space between her brows with a finger, the cool sensation spreading outwards.
“Stay sharp, this is just the beginning, Thilan.”
The girl told herself this as she refocused her attention and began carefully selecting the candidates.
Though many were suitable, considering the limited number of participants and the need for balanced team composition, she had no choice but to eliminate some.
Twenty minutes later, after finalizing the twelve who would take the stage, Thilan handed the list to Annelie.
“These are the ones. If we get the highest score in the first phase, all twelve can perform. Of course, in the worst-case scenario where the judges give us all zeroes, only two would appear.”
“They wouldn’t all give zeroes! I believe in you, Thilan~” Annelie offered cheerful encouragement.
“I’ll go inform everyone. If you’re tired, you can take a nap in the side room,” Annelie added, knowing well Thilan’s fondness for midday naps.
“I know.”
While being understood was nice, Thilan felt a bit embarrassed for some reason. She was the president, yet here she was—about to sneak off for a nap in the office. Wouldn’t that be bad if word got out?
“Whatever, just a quick nap.”
With that thought, Thilan summoned her large spider from the shadow beside her.
“You just stay under the desk and don’t move. If someone comes in, press the button and wake me up from the room next door, got it?”
The spider flexed its legs, its black eyes shifting slightly, and let out a faint hiss to show it understood.
“Oh, and don’t scare anyone. Actually, it’s best if no one sees you at all,” Thilan reminded it again.
“Hss-hss.”
The spider seemed a little aggrieved—it had lost quite a bit of potential fun—but seeing how serious Thilan looked, it still nodded in agreement.
“That’s more like it. Be good, and I’ll make you something tasty tomorrow.”
Promising a reward to coax the mischievous creature into behaving, Thilan finally headed off to rest.
Time passed peacefully, and the next day, Thilan arrived at Ge Yin’s residence.
“This place… is really something else.”
Thilan looked around at the room’s layout, her gaze sweeping over all kinds of mysterious, floating objects.
The dorms at Edess Academy resembled city apartments, usually housing two students per unit. They were fully equipped with kitchens, bathrooms, living areas, and separate bedrooms.
But Ge Yin’s unit was occupied by her alone. The room was filled with all sorts of objects—some looked like high-tech devices, some resembled ancient mysterious relics, and others were exotic goods from other star regions.
When Thilan asked where these came from, Ge Yin replied that she bought them online.
“Isn’t interstellar shipping really expensive?”
Thilan had heard classmates talk about such online purchases before, but usually only high-value items were worth the steep logistics costs.
“Mhm.”
Ge Yin nodded but said nothing more. Unless Thilan kept asking, she typically didn’t offer further explanation.
“Alright, so are these all your instruments?”
In the corner of the bedroom, Thilan found several stacked cases and boxes. Judging by their shape, she could guess they were instruments.
After helping carry them, the two made their way to the music room.
“First up, the violin.”
When the case was opened, Thilan saw a finely crafted violin. Its body looked like it was made of white ivory, and the surface was intricately carved with lifelike floral patterns. It felt surprisingly light in her hands. Even someone like Thilan, who didn’t care much about luxury items, could tell—this was definitely a work of art.
Placing the violin on her shoulder, Ge Yin gently began to play. A soothing, crystalline sound filled the room and gradually drifted away.
A few minutes later, Thilan clapped her hands—she hadn't expected Ge Yin to be so accomplished with instruments. In fact, she might even be a bit stronger than Thilan herself, though that was largely due to her own lack of practice.
“When did you start learning the violin, Ge Yin?”
“At age nine.”
“And how long did you study it?”
“Half a year in the beginning, a year in the middle phase, then two more years of advanced study.”
Ge Yin set the violin down, her voice cool and calm.
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t dislike it. But… my mother likes it.”
She then packed the violin away and opened another case, taking out a guitar.
A black guitar, with silver plating around its edges. When Ge Yin tuned it and plucked the strings, faint hidden patterns surfaced on the black surface—delicate outlines of white roses. The overall design was strikingly beautiful.
“It’s extraordinary.”
Looking at the guitar, Thilan once again felt that same sensation.
What followed was guitar, reed instruments, piano, trumpet—Ge Yin demonstrated a level of mastery far above the norm with each. But gradually, Thilan began to notice an issue. Though Ge Yin’s technique was refined to a professional level—perhaps even beyond—the emotion in her music was exceedingly uniform. It was a subtle difference, one the average listener wouldn’t notice, but to Thilan’s ears, it slowly became apparent.
It was like an exquisitely crafted, yet cold and silent, work of art.
Yes, that was the feeling. A distinct image began forming in Thilan’s mind.
“What does Ge Yin’s mother do?”
At last, she couldn’t help but ask. Admittedly, it was a bit abrupt, but Ge Yin didn’t seem to mind; her mood remained as calm as still water.
“My mother is a renowned artist. She enjoys sculpture, pyrography, painting, and such.”
Ge Yin explained placidly, then took out her personal terminal and entered a name to show Thilan.
“Shafa Qiqilis H. Aetheraide, renowned artist. At 21, she placed second in the ‘478th Tri-Feather Art Grand Selection’ with her piece ‘Eyes Within the Pale Prism’.
“At 24, her piece ‘Torn Face’ won third place in the ‘227th Trueblood Beauty Art Competition’.
“At 29, she took the championship at the ‘829th Choral Festival’ in the Twin-Tree Star Region with her piece ‘Tears of the Crowned Maiden’, sparking major acclaim.
“Three years later, she suddenly announced her marriage and withdrew from the art world, with no new works since.”
On the screen appeared a woman with straight silver hair, deep violet eye makeup, and a cool, distant face. She wore a silver suit—long-sleeved, full-length pants—but its design was exaggerated and bold, visually striking. At first glance, one wouldn’t think she was Ge Yin’s mother. Their temperaments were vastly different. But upon closer inspection, one could detect a subtle, shared sense of coldness between them.
“Were Ge Yin’s instruments also gifts from your mother?”
Thilan could tell—they were meticulously crafted and clearly not something you could buy on the market.
“Yes.”
“Does Ge Yin like her mother?”
“No.”
She shook her head—her first answer that wasn't simply “not disliked.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about your father?”
“Mom dumped him.”
…Right. No answers there, apparently.
With the testing concluded, Thilan helped Ge Yin pack away the instruments and began thinking about their next steps.
Now that Ge Yin had joined, the band lineup was basically complete. The combat team had also been selected. What remained was to keep practicing and refining—until they reached perfection.