Epilogue I: The Coronation of Silence
"He did not ask to be called a god. The world simply could not call him anything less."
The venue was the Harmonía Eternal Hall—a cathedral built solely for sound.
Its ceiling was hand-painted with legends from every musical tradition: Mozart's notes, Guqin scrolls, Sufi whirls, sitar strings, Beethoven's deafness turned into light. But tonight… a new name would be etched into its arch.
One not born of history—but of silence.
The Ceremony
Twelve presidents attended.
Seventeen royal families.
Thousands of scholars, composers, prodigies, and critics from across the world.
The air buzzed with reverence.
And then
He entered.
Long Haochen.
Dressed in formal white, his braided hair trailing like starlight down his back, the protective strap gleaming faintly beneath the lights.
At his sides walked:
Pearl, in imperial blue, regal and proud.
Crystal, holding a scroll wrapped in silver ribbon—his original compositions.
Jade, in black velvet, eyes soft with fierce devotion.
Emerald, wearing the moon's reflection in her gaze.
The world stood in thunderous ovation.
But Haochen did not smile.
He walked forward quietly, bowing only once to the Hall.
The host stepped forth, trembling with emotion.
"There are degrees... and then there are dimensions. Tonight, we forge something that has never existed, because he has done what no other has done."
She lifted a plaque forged from crystal and gold:
Doctorate of Eternal Harmony
Granted to: Long Haochen (Age 10)
In recognition of reshaping the very meaning of music.
The hall went silent.
Then a scroll was unrolled across the sky-ceiling—displaying the global signatures of 211 institutions.
"From this day forth," the host declared, "You may teach, critique, and guide the musical evolution of any institution. You are no longer merely a master…"
She turned.
"…you are now the world's Music God."
Tears fell across the room.
Musicians dropped to their knees.
Choirs sang without a conductor.
The wind changed in the rafters.
Even the stars seemed to shift.
And yet
Haochen bowed once.
Then turned to his sisters.
They were crying.
Not for the title.
But because they remembered the boy who once hummed lullabies to fireflies.
As the applause thundered—
Haochen took the plaque, held it briefly to his chest…
…and then whispered:
"I hope you heard that, Mama. Papa."
The wind swirled gently across the braids behind his neck.
And the world finally believed—
The Music God had been crowned.