Adela lay quietly on the bed inside the guest room while soft moonlight spilled through the large windows overlooking the gardens outside. The room itself remained strangely peaceful. Physically, she felt perfectly fine and the discomfort from earlier had mostly faded. The problem came whenever she remembered the food.
The moment she thought about the stew, her stomach twisted unpleasantly again.
Adela frowned and leaned back against the pillows with visible irritation. She had survived absurdly dangerous battles, Divine disasters and enough ridiculous situations to stop counting, yet apparently dinner was where her body finally drew the line. Somehow, that annoyed her more than anything. It felt stupid.
Epsilon V sat nearby, watching her carefully with mild concern. Unlike earlier, he looked noticeably apologetic, as though he blamed himself for not realizing the issue sooner. Apparently, nobody had expected an outsider Discordant to react this badly. Even Delta II likely had not predicted it.
"The reason you couldn't eat the food is because you're a Discordant."
"Seriously?"
"Discordants cannot eat food prepared by Concordants. If a Concordant prepares food, its rhythm naturally resonates with Concordants. For Discordants, that resonance becomes incompatible."
Adela stared at him for a second.
"You're telling me that I got food poisoning because of rhythm?"
Epsilon looked mildly uncomfortable.
"When phrased like that, it sounds ridiculous but essentially… yes."
Adela stared at the ceiling. Of course this realm somehow managed to make food complicated.
"The problem is that Regnum Musicae follows Concordant structure. Discordants are rare."
Adela remembered Delta II calling it a disability.
"So what? You just don't have Discordants around?"
"We do, but most are treated."
"Treated?"
"Discordancy is usually corrected early but yours is different. You were born this way. Your rhythm developed outside Regnum Musicae. There is no treatment that could realistically affect you."
Adela stayed quiet. That made sense. Probably. Still irritating though.
"Even Discordants born here still possess traces of Concordant capability. They can usually tolerate food eventually but you don't."
"So I'm basically doomed?"
Epsilon visibly hesitated.
"Dietarily, yes."
"I'm fine."
"You are?"
She nodded once.
"I don't necessarily need food to survive. I'll live but I'm definitely skipping dinner."
Epsilon looked mildly relieved and amused.
"That bad?"
Adela gave him a completely deadpan look.
"I am never eating that again."
°°°°°°°
The next morning, Adela walked alongside Epsilon V and Eta XXVI through the quiet residential district while sunlight spread gently across the white streets of Concerto. Unlike yesterday evening, the silence felt far more noticeable now because almost nobody was around. Large white roads stretched beautifully between elegant homes while silver-leaved trees swayed softly in the ocean breeze. Yet despite how alive the city looked, it felt strangely empty.
"Where is everyone?"
This time, she was used to telepathic connection so it as easy for her to talk freely now. Eta XXVI swung her arms casually while walking ahead.
"At work. All Musicia work."
Adela glanced around again.
"Musicia?"
"Our race. That is what we are called."
The realization settled quietly in her thoughts while they continued walking through the empty streets. It felt strange seeing an entire district so carefully maintained while barely seeing anyone around. Even children were nowhere in sight, which somehow made the silence feel stranger. Usually, places like this had life spilling into every corner.
"Why is nobody in the residential area?"
Epsilon folded his hands behind his back while walking.
"Because residential districts are not places of labor. They are places of rest. All Musicia possess one of five societal roles. Agriculture, Art, Trade, Defense, and Exploration."
"Everyone?"
"Yes. Everyone."
Eta XXVI puffed her cheeks.
"Even kids."
"Seriously?"
"Every Musicia receives responsibility from the elderly to children beginning around three years old."
Adela almost stopped walking.
"Three?"
Eta crossed her arms proudly.
"Musicia aren't lazy."
Adela stared for a moment. That sounded absurd. Then again, this entire realm already functioned on absurdity.
She glanced down another spotless street while noticing something else strange. No trash existed anywhere, not even fallen leaves or dust gathering in corners. Everything looked impossibly clean and maintained without effort. It looked less like a city and more like a preserved memory.
"Who cleans all of this?"
Epsilon looked mildly confused by that question.
"The realm. Regnum Musicae naturally maintains harmony. Filth, decay, and disorder are corrected. Our streets clean themselves."
As they walked farther, Adela found herself increasingly curious about how their civilization actually functioned. Everything here felt organized to an almost unreasonable degree. Even the strange cultural taboos suddenly made slightly more sense if society itself revolved around rhythm and harmony. Still, she wanted details.
"So what do the five roles actually do?"
"Agriculture supports survival," he explained first. "Those within that role cultivate food and resources for the realm. They are responsible for sustaining Regnum Musicae."
Eta XXVI pointed enthusiastically towards distant fields visible far outside the district.
"They're really cool. Some can make plants grow faster with rhythm."
"Art," Epsilon continued, "devotes itself to creation. Music, painting, fashion, sculpture, performance, architecture, anything involving artistic expression belongs there. Trade focuses on economic exchange. They transport materials between regions and islands like goods, instruments, textiles, food and crafted works."
Adela slowly nodded. That was probably the closest thing to ordinary society she had heard so far.
"Defense protects the realm. They act as soldiers, guardians, defenders and fighters."
Eta XXVI immediately puffed up proudly.
"That's me."
Adela looked at her.
"You're thirteen."
Eta groaned dramatically.
"I'm thirteen."
Epsilon looked mildly amused.
"She dislikes being treated younger."
Adela honestly understood. Still, a thirteen-year-old fighter sounded mildly terrifying. Not that she was one to talk since she was already a skilled assassin at that age.
"And Exploration?"
"Explorers travel beyond Regnum Musicae. We observe Spheraphase."
"You go there?"
"From time to time."
Eta XXVI looked excited immediately.
"He brings back stories."
"She exaggerates."
"You literally fought sea monsters!"
"That happened once."
Adela narrowed her eyes.
"You people casually explore Spheraphase?"
Epsilon shrugged.
"We severed political and social ties, not curiosity."
"So your names. How exactly does that system work?"
"Name ranking originates from societal contribution. The more successful one becomes within their role, the higher their designation rises."
Adela thought for a second.
"So Delta II…"
"Highly accomplished," Epsilon said immediately.
Eta XXVI nodded enthusiastically.
"She's amazing."
Adela glanced at Epsilon.
"And you?"
He looked mildly awkward.
"I rank reasonably."
Eta XXVI immediately scoffed.
"He's humble."
Adela narrowed her eyes suspiciously. That usually meant important.
"Anyway, we are not named at birth. Infants receive temporary identifiers. Eventually, they stand before the Hourglass of Truth. It reveals one's name and purpose."
"Your entire life gets assigned by an hourglass?"
Eta XXVI smiled proudly.
"It always knows."
Adela stared ahead quietly.This realm somehow became weirder every hour.