[ALEX'S POV]
The noise on the stage gradually died down, and people froze in anticipation of the performance.
"The first lody that I am going to perform, I think, is familiar to everyone... I hope so. It is called 'River Flows in You'."
The gazes of those present were directed only at , but I was not worried. My heart was absolutely calm. The prelude, like a sudden rain on a sumr evening, erged as my fingers touched the black and white keys. Today I played not only for the guests in the audience but also for myself. I had completed the first step on the path to the top of Hollywood, and I wanted to release the emotions boiling inside . Therefore, today's performance was also my self-expression.
From this point on, my path would beco more thorny. I knew it. I was ready. After finishing, I silently stared into space, saying nothing for a long ti. Taking a deep breath, I freed myself from the overwhelming feelings and heard applause flying in my direction.
"Thank you! Receiving such a loud ovation, I dare to assu that you liked my first composition. I even managed to shoot a video for this music here, in this very restaurant. However, not many people have heard the second lody that I am going to play. But they say it is no worse than the first. Now you can decide for yourselves. I call it 'Corazon De Niño.'"
This composition was a little faster than the previous one, but it had its own special charm. The music transported into the state of mind of the composer who had created it. There is no greater happiness for a composer than to write a simple lody that, in five or ten years, becos a folk song, even if the na of its creator is forgotten. I wondered how I would feel in the future when others played or sang my music. As these thoughts ran through my head, I finished my performance.
The restaurant burst into thunderous applause and joyful exclamations again.
"So, what do you think about this composition?"
"Wonderful!"
"Yes, this music went straight to my heart!"
"I don't have enough words to describe my feelings!"
After listening to the audience's impressed opinions, I smiled, satisfied. "Thank you. Today's event is very important for , so I do not plan to end my performance with only two compositions. Please evaluate my third musical creation. I have not perford it anywhere before; you will be the first to hear it."
My words stirred a certain pride in the audience. After all, being the first to hear new music from a composer is a rare privilege.
"It's called 'Una Mattina.'"
The mont the piano keys began to play again, my gaze drifted forward into the void. Countless mories flooded my mind. 'Una Mattina' ('In the Morning') was a piece by the Italian neoclassical composer Ludovico Einaudi.
[A/N: Una Mattina does not have a direct translation in English, but in so contexts, it can be interpreted as "In the morning" or "One morning."]
The lody sounded calm and leisurely, like admiring drops of dew on leaves and flowers during an early sunny morning. The beauty of music lies not in effects and harmonic curiosities but in simplicity and naturalness. That was exactly how this lody felt.
The audience, hearing the composition for the first ti, was emotionally overwheld. The entire hall fell into complete silence. Only the resonating sounds of the piano remained.
The music gradually faded, but the emotions in the room lingered. Everyone remained silent, as though spellbound, while an indescribable energy seed to grow in the crowd.
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[3rd Person POV]
The spectators quietly watched the young man who had managed, once again, to surprise them with his musical talent. He created masterpieces effortlessly, as though it were second nature. The compositions perford today touched the hearts of everyone present—yes, everyone.
Bruce Wayne sat quietly in the hall, still overco by the music's powerful emotional pull. The lodies had an enchanting quality that cald his soul, like a warm mory resurfacing. For a brief mont, he returned to the past, to days spent happily with his parents. These mories ward his long-cold heart. Fixing his gaze on the young man at the piano, Bruce found himself wishing that he would play once more.
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[Alex's POV]
"Thank you all for your support. I will not keep you waiting for long. The next composition is called 'Nuvole Bianche.'"
This was another masterpiece by Ludovico Einaudi—'Nuvole Bianche' ('White Clouds').
The audience quietly basked in the new lody, as though soaking in the warm rays of the sun. This ti, I did not enter a state of complete imrsion in the music.
Instead, I scanned my surroundings. Several people were filming my performance from different angles. It was worth ntioning that I had allowed today's concert to be recorded. I planned to upload the video to my channel. Of course, many would have chosen to keep these compositions secret. But I believed this approach would serve as excellent advertising for the future.
My first album would include ten compositions, five of which I intended to release to the public beforehand. I had a strong conviction that once music lovers heard my works—each worthy of being called a masterpiece—they would imdiately want to hear the rest. After all, if a composer could produce five great pieces of music, wouldn't the other five be just as remarkable?
My fingers touched the final key, and the lody ended.
The restaurant fell into silence once more. The audience froze like statues. No one spoke or moved, everyone still captivated by the music until the final chord disappeared into the air. I glanced around the room, searching for a familiar figure in a blue dress. When my eyes t Victoria's, a dazzling smile lit up my face.
Without looking away from the red-haired journalist, I said, "Dear guests, the next piece will conclude my performance today."
My words, like a sudden explosion, threw the audience into a flurry of disappointnt.
"It may be the last one, but this composition holds great aning for . I'll tell you a little secret... It will beco the main track in my first album. And my music album will bear the sa na as this lody—'Mariage d'amour.'"
In my past world, this French piano piece had a rich history. 'Mariage d'amour' ('Marriage of Love') was composed by Paul de Senneville and first perford by the pianist Richard Clayderman.
Due to a mistake, it was wrongly attributed to Chopin and beca widely known as 'Spring Waltz.' I hoped that such confusion wouldn't happen in this world.
I brought my hands to the keys once again and began to play. The hall filled with the poignant beauty of 'Mariage d'amour.' My emotions flowed with the lody, the notes gently carrying forward as though guiding toward my dreams.
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Thank you for reading, if you liked the chapter then do consider voting with power stones.
And one more thing, tomorrow is my birthday so I am going to upload 21 chapters, bringing the count to 50, after that we will continue with one chapter a day.
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