BEEP—BEEP—BEEP—
The alarm drilled into my ears. I groaned. I swiped my hand over the phone to turn it off.
My body was heavy. I didn't dream this time. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The first thing I saw was the guitar, still resting in the corner like it was watching me.
Right. That actually happened.
I dragged myself through the morning routine: shower, teeth, food, keys. The normal stuff felt almost unfamiliar.
Got into my car and drove to the university.
Half an hour later, I stepped onto campus, blending in. my mind was still a little dazzled. By the time I got to Harmony 205, my head was clearer. Sort of.
Professor Requena entered just as I dropped into my seat.
"Good morning, composers," he announced, sounding far too enthusiastic for this hour. "Today, we're going to continue with emotion in melody, how sound manipulates the heart and the mind."
He scribbled the words across the screen with an stylus.
"Which musical modes or techniques do you associate with each of these?" he asked. Hands went up. I stayed quiet.
But as the class spoke, all I could think of was Fairy Tail. Not the show. The feeling. The swell of magic during battle. The weight of Erza's presence. Makarov's silent strength. And the way the music had surged beneath it all like it was alive.
"Ren," Requena's voice cut through my thoughts. "You submitted your assignment this morning, didn't you?"
I nodded. "Yeah, barely made it."
"Good. Mind giving us a preview? What did you say the composer felt?"
I hesitated, then shrugged and answered.
"That they weren't just writing music. They were carrying something. Every note had weight, grief, hope, fury, whatever they were feeling. The rhythms didn't try to impress. They were more like… a battle cry. A kind of emotional relay."
The room was quiet for a second too long. Then Requena smiled faintly.
"Not bad, Mr. Cadence. Remind me to borrow that line later."
A few people laughed. I grinned, quietly.
For once, I hadn't answered with theory or guesswork. I'd spoken from experience, even if it had come from a different world.
Professor Requena turned from the board and clapped once.
"Alright. I want you to listen to this piece, don't analyze it with your brain, analyze it with your heart."
He hit play on the audio system. A soft piano began, gentle, floating, but slowly it grew dissonant. Strings crept in, subtle at first, then unsettling. The room fell into a strange silence.
My fingers twitched. My ears picked up on something others might miss, a rhythm buried beneath the melody. When the music faded, Requena crossed his arms.
"Describe what you felt. Not what you heard. What you felt."
A few hands went up. Words like "uneasy," "nostalgic," and "haunted" floated across the room. Then he pointed at me.
"Ren."
"It felt like... someone trying to remember something important," I said slowly, "but the memory hurts. Like they're smiling while falling apart inside. And the anger, pure rage, almost like saying I hate everything. At the end Sorrow..."
The class was quiet for a beat.
Requena's eyebrows lifted slightly. He nodded.
The work is called "Hate" from a channel called Lucas King. Not something you can heard from the classics
Then from beside me, Dani whispered, "Bro. Did you eat poetic cereal or something?"
I stifled a laugh and muttered, "It's talent."
Dani looked at me seriously and just punched me in the arm.
Requena continued. "You see? Music doesn't live on paper. It lives in experience. You don't compose with technique, you compose with intention."
He moved to the whiteboard again and scribbled three words:
Melody - Emotion - Context
"Anyone can play a melody. A real musician understands what that melody means depending on where, and why it's played."
He tapped the word "context" with emphasis.
I sat back, letting his words settle into me. Yeah. That part I was starting to understand.
He glanced at the clock and clapped his hands once.
"Alright, that's all for today. Same group presentation schedule for next week, don't forget to submit your drafts before Monday. And please," he added, pointing vaguely toward our side of the room, "don't wait until Sunday at midnight to feel inspired. or... 3 in the morning" he looked straight at me.
A few groans and laughs rolled through the classroom as chairs shifted and laptops clicked shut.
I packed my things slowly, still thinking about what he'd said. Context. I hadn't understood it before, not really. But now? After Fairy Tail, after every song... something in me did.
As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, a voice called from behind me.
"Hey, Cadence!"
I turned to see Oriol, fellow music geek, occasional beatboxer, and one of the few people who actually knew how to use the school's analog console. He raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"That answer you gave earlier… the one about music being alive? Man... Where'd that come from?"
I scratched the back of my neck, trying to play it cool. "I dunno. It just… made sense."
He gave me a long look, then nodded. "Well, if you say so"
There was a pause between us, one of those quiet beats where neither of us needed to say anything profound. Then, like flipping a switch, he grinned again.
"So, you're officially the Professor's golden boy now? Should I start calling you Maestro Cadence?"
I snorted. "Please don't. But... Actually you can call me Tempo"
Oriol burst out laughing. "Tempo? Seriously?"