Harmony of Hatred: The Wicked Pianist

The air of Lumièrebourg, supposedly filled with romance and art, now felt different to Julian Lucien Malrick's senses. His newly awakened inner eye saw the city not as a symbol of freedom, but as fertile ground ready to be cultivated by darkness. The grand buildings, bustling cafes, and hurried crowds, all seemed like notes waiting to be arranged in his new symphony. Edric Sebastian Thornleigh was dead; what remained was the Maestro of Darkness, Julian.

His concert at the Grand Théâtre de Lumière was a declaration. There was no longer Alaric's threatening presence, no longer Lady Lilian's shackling shadow. Julian stepped onto the stage alone, his long hair flowing freely, his eyes emanating a cold, mesmerizing aura. He did not bow to the crowd of nobles and intellectuals who filled the hall. He merely sat before the black grand piano, his fingers touching the keys with a different kind of touch.

The melody he played that night was not a familiar classical sonata, but a new composition born from the abyss of his new soul—a nameless, pervasive symphony. The notes flowed, not just filling the space, but permeating every individual. The sound was so beautiful, so intricate, yet beneath it, there was a subtle whisper pounding at the subconscious. Whispers of limitless ambition, hidden greed, burning jealousy, and unrest that sparked violence. The faces of the audience, initially filled with admiration, slowly transformed. Faint, creeping smiles, strange glints in their eyes, a euphoria that felt too wild. Julian was not just entertaining; he was the conductor of the darkest emotions now awakening. He offered a faint smile, feeling his new power throb, seeing the seeds of dissonance begin to grow in the souls trapped by his melody. The concert was an immense success, elevating Julian to an unparalleled peak of fame in Lumièrebourg, surpassing all of Edric's previous achievements. However, he didn't care about the applause; he cared about his influence.

A few days later, Lumièrebourg began to feel a subtle yet palpable impact. Small riots broke out in the markets over trivial disputes that escalated. The rich became greedier, artists became more envious, and politicians became more petty. An invisible, yet real, chaos began to spread like an unstoppable melody. Julian observed it all from afar, from his new luxurious apartment, with cold satisfaction. He was testing the limits of his power, learning how the notes of darkness could permeate and shape the world. He was the Maestro of Darkness, and Lumièrebourg was merely his first stage. He hadn't yet thought of William or Celia. Personal revenge felt too small compared to the grand symphony he was now beginning to play.

[The Devil and Celia]

Far from the Lumièrebourgian glitter, in a place unbound by the dimensions of time—a dark, cold space filled with the aura of ancient power—Celia Bennett knelt before a figure she could only recognize by the red gleam in its eyes piercing the dense darkness. Her body trembled, her dark hair disheveled, and her face appeared paler than usual, reflecting endless suffering. She had been summoned.

"You failed, slave," the Devil's voice resonated, not with exploding rage, but with a flat tone that was more terrifying, for it implied absolute disappointment. "You could not bring Edric Sebastian Thornleigh directly. You allowed him to slip from your grasp when he met William."

Celia crawled forward, tears streaming down her soiled cheeks. "Forgive me, my Lord... I... I am so sorry. I tried. I... I was so terrified. He didn't believe me. I... I failed." Her voice broke, a heartbreaking sob. The burden of her failure felt heavier than the chains that bound her soul.

The Devil's figure did not move, but its aura grew more intimidating. "Failed?" Its voice was now mocking. "You see a failure, slave. But I see a perfect orchestration. A small mistake that ironically led me to a sweeter melody. Edric's disbelief, the betrayal he felt... all of it was fuel. Fuel far purer than any simple desire you could offer."

Celia looked up, her swollen eyes staring at the formless figure in confusion.

"Yes," the Devil's voice sighed in satisfaction. "Your plan failed, but that is precisely what made my purpose succeed. He chose me. Not by persuasion, but by destruction. He came to me because he had nothing left but hatred. And that... that is far more potent than any fleeting love." The Devil's figure chuckled softly, a bone-chilling laugh. "You performed your duty perfectly, Celia. Without realizing it. You were the pawn who successfully shattered and delivered her king."

Celia's tears flowed even more profusely, mingling with bitter understanding. She was a tool. Her brief happiness with Edric was merely an illusion, a bridge to the destruction of the man she loved. And most terrifyingly, she had become the instrument to destroy the man herself. She had succeeded in her failure.

[Julian's Experiments and Future Plans]

Back in Lumièrebourg, Julian Lucien Malrick continued to solidify his position. He held additional concerts, observing the increasingly widespread effects of his music. People became more easily provoked, more readily tempted by empty promises, more prone to losing their moral compass. Julian smiled. This was the power he craved. He began to think beyond Lumièrebourg. There were other cities, other countries, awaiting his new symphony.

In his mind, the figures of William and Celia remained faint. A vengeance yet unfulfilled, but now it felt like a mere subplot. His primary focus was the grander mission: to become the true Maestro of Darkness on the world stage. He would continue to spread the Devil's influence, gathering souls hungry for power and chaos. His hunt for William and Celia would come. But for now, the world was his orchestra.