Chapter 18: The Songstress's Gift

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“Hersia, do you know what charisma is?” Butis propped her head with one hand, stirring the ice cubes in her drink.

“Charisma isn’t just about personal appearance; it encompasses many facets.”

“Legend has it that in ancient times, there was an emperor who was overthrown after a great defeat and imprisoned. One day, he finally escaped.”

“At that moment, the nation sent troops to capture him. But when the army confronted the emperor, he spread his arms wide and told the soldiers, ‘Your emperor has returned.’ One by one, the soldiers defected, forcing the general to dismount and reluctantly yield to the majority’s will.”

“This kind of charisma doesn’t arise from appearance but from deeds and actions, becoming a legend. It’s a charisma born of character, infecting countless people who willingly follow him, ready to risk their lives and face any danger.”

“Why? Because people saw hope in him — a sincere and powerful force from the heart, like the sun, firmly drawing those around him.”

“Looking through history, those who ended chaotic times and established new orders often possessed this trait, or at least part of it.”

“In extraordinary eras, a rare few are born with such a gift. Even if unremarkable in looks, their voice, expression, and movements carry a unique charm that earns trust and admiration.”

“The most powerful among them are the legendary color-class songstresses. When they take the stage, their emotions, their wishes, and their soul-stirring voices penetrate everyone present, uniting a crowd with divergent views under a single cause.”

“This soul-shaking, world-changing power leaves countless in awe and wonder. Even in retrospect, those involved harbor no regrets.”

“It’s as if a beam of light appears in a life shrouded by darkness and mist, and we all walk toward that light. I can't quite describe the feeling, but there’s no regret or sorrow.”

“The founders of the Federation often wrote in their memoirs about their decisions back then, describing an incredible sensation because their actions defied ordinary habits. Yet, the outcomes were almost dreamlike — smooth, harmonious, united.”

“Sadly, after the ‘Golden Flame Rose’ passed away, no one else experienced that feeling. Although the Federation continued to expand, many conservatives claimed it was just the lingering glow of the past, destined to fade someday.”

As Butis spoke, she unwittingly became immersed in her memories. The ice in her glass had long melted.

“Ah, I think I talked too much. Where was I?” she suddenly snapped back.

“About the legendary deeds of the Golden Flame Rose,” Froise, who was behind the bar, said as she brought over the prepared meal and placed it before the green-haired maid.

“Yes, yes, I’ve admired that senior since childhood, not only for her legend but because I was discovered to have similar traits.”

“Did Butis ever used to be a songstress?” Froise asked curiously, while Hersia quietly perked her ears nearby.

“I did.” Butis smiled and held a finger before her golden eyes.

“In high school, I was found to have this talent, so I started learning and joined the school band.”

“I was quite the legend at school back then; many pursued me,” she waved her fingers playfully.

“That was an unforgettable memory.”

“But I wasn’t truly gifted. Though I had songstress traits, I was only at the Starshine level, not even the Moon level. So I was destined to take the band route, with no hopes of going into politics or changing the Federation.”

“That’s still impressive, the Starshine level,” Froise shook her head in amazement.

Songstress talent is ranked in nine tiers, roughly named after celestial bodies: Star Sprout at the lowest, Raging Sun at the highest, and beyond that, the pinnacle is Color-class, named after the highest ancient title for songstresses.

Before humanity ventured beyond Earth, the most renowned were the Azure Songstress and the Crimson Songstress. Later, the strongest songstresses were represented by colors—Color-class—meaning they could paint the world anew, performing miracles that changed it.

The founder of the Rose Federation was the ‘Golden Flame Rose.’ Over the Federation’s centuries-long history, only two Color-class songstresses have appeared: the founder herself and the ‘Cobalt Tear’ some four centuries ago. Their deeds deeply influenced the Federation’s course.

“It’s been nearly fifty years since a Sun-level songstress appeared in the Federation. The most well-known now are several Full Moon-level songstresses. Though influential, they fall short of changing the Federation—at best, they’re beloved stars.”

The simulated twilight bathed the Glass Dream in amber hues, the few remaining guests reflected on the mirror-like floor, creating a dreamlike amber scene.

Hersia ate slowly. The initial nervousness eased as the day’s end approached. The faint clinking of spoon and porcelain accompanied her savoring of Froise’s dinner.

She didn’t know what to say, but there was a subtle happiness.

As Hersia finished her meal, continuing to listen to Butis’s tales, Belfinger finally appeared, twirling a diamond-shaped token between her fingers, her steps light.

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“‘Dantalian,’ you’re here! How was your day? I was late this morning. I heard Andusia took care of you,” Belfinger said, sliding onto the bar stool and ordering a cool drink.

“This morning I helped Sister Andusia tend the greenhouse, then in the afternoon went with Butis to fetch venom.”

“Fetch venom?” Belfinger was startled, a hint of panic in her voice.

“You weren’t tricked by Butis into going to her scary snake den, were you?”

“I’m still here. Watch your words. Also, why call it a snake den? There are other creatures too, like spider frogs,” the green-haired elder sister scooped Hersia into her arms, who lay there slightly flustered, as they began to argue with Belfinger.

“Heh, raising snakes and spiders in such a cheerful, lovely shop? If I were the manager, I’d have kicked them out long ago. What if they scare customers?” Belfinger crossed her arms, ears perked, glaring at Butis.

“You said the manager agreed. Want to stop it? Or is it because you, a rabbit, are afraid of snakes and taking it personally?” Butis smirked mockingly, which infuriated Belfinger but she dared not strike back, for she truly feared snakes.

Watching these two formidable seniors quarrel, Hersia felt like a small animal caught in the crossfire, unable to escape even when Butis held her.

After some back-and-forth, neither side budged. Finally, Froise intervened, blocking Belfinger’s mouth with a straw from her drink.

“Enough, I won’t argue with you rabbit. Hersia, will you come back tomorrow?”

“I can come,” Hersia said, eyes darting towards Belfinger for help, but the rabbit was busy sipping her drink and typing quickly on her personal terminal, oblivious.

“Good! No venom fetching tomorrow; I’ll teach you something else.” Froise smiled, seeming to have a plan.

Relieved not to face such fears again, Hersia felt a little better.

Just as Butis said, though tense at first, by the end she wasn’t so scared of those spiders and snakes—perhaps that’s the power of habit?

Regardless, the joyful second day of work was over. Tonight, she’d sleep well.

—

After Hersia left, Butis remained at the bar, sipping swirling red wine, lost in thought.

“Got something on your mind? It’s late, I’m closing up,” Froise said, tidying the bar.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Is it about the new maid, Dantalian?”

“You’re observant.” Butis sighed.

“Because of her, many old memories came back. I do have my own story.”

“Heh, looks like I’m the audience today.” Froise chuckled softly and sat beside her.

“As I told you before, I once joined a band because of my soul synchronization ability.”

“Yeah, I heard those were crazy days. Your notorious reputation in South Sector Two precedes you. Only now do I know you were the lead singer.”

“For someone like you, a noble lady, to know that’s an honor,” Butis smiled bitterly, recalling her reckless past.

“Our band didn’t just perform; we raced death races, fought brawls, crashed other gigs, and caused trouble everywhere. I don’t know how the big shots tolerated us without harsh punishment.”

“Probably indulgence — the galaxy hadn’t seen talent like yours in years,” Froise said, gazing at the darkening simulated sky, speckled with stars.

“The Four-Leaf Crystal System has declined. If a famous songstress emerged, even if not political, becoming a star or idol would boost local economy and reputation.”

“To others, your antics were serious, but to the authorities, it was just child’s play. If you brought even 0.1% change to the sector, it would offset your troubles.”

“I couldn’t do it.” Butis shook her head.

“I’ve thought about digging deeper into my talent but found my limit at Starshine level. My performances could excite people briefly, but the emotion was fleeting and dissipated once the show ended.”

“Our band could play the best live shows, yet our influence never spread beyond the local system.”

“So I was crushed and gradually quit. The big shots probably saw my limit and gave up on me,” Butis felt a twinge of loneliness.

“It’s alright. Compared to ordinary folks, you’re lucky. Besides, you’re now using your talent to tame dangerous creatures. If you didn’t do well, the manager wouldn’t trust you to keep venomous animals here.”

“Yes, for humans, my effect is limited. But for creatures with weaker consciousness and souls, it works well.” She lowered her head and sipped red wine.

“Actually, I didn’t come to share sad stories.” After finishing her drink, she suddenly lifted her head with a mysterious smile, completely shedding the earlier melancholy. The silver-trimmed maid beside her felt betrayed—what a mischievous woman.

“You know, Froise, I’ve found similar traits in Dantalian. Though unsure of her talent level, you understand what I mean.”

Froise’s eyes widened, surprised by her companion.

“You mean little Dantalian has soul synchronization talent?”

“Yes. During the day, I lent her a bell. That’s when I noticed something was off.”

“If an ordinary person shakes that bell, it only triggers venomous creatures’ conditioned reflexes to obey. But when she shakes it, she truly emits a calming power that soothes animals and people alike.”

“I know that feeling well.”

“The ability to spread one’s emotions and will, infecting others.”

“Without doubt, she will be a songstress in the future, a special one.”

“At least at her age, I couldn’t so easily wield this power. Her talent must be at least Moon level, maybe even Sun level.”

“As for me, I’m no longer in the spotlight. But you, Froise, I don’t know which noble family you belong to, but you surely understand Dantalian’s value.”

The silver-trimmed maid shook her head. “I come from a noble family, yes, but do you think a valued heir would work in a place like this?”

“Even I can’t reach the heights you mention. I’m a marginal figure in my family, powerless but free.”

“If you want to invest or bet on Dantalian through me, well... I guess I’ll be busy again. I thought I could enjoy a long leisurely life.”

“I’ll ask my grandfather for advice. Maybe he can help.”

“But before that, I must confirm whether Dantalian truly has the talent you say, or else it would be embarrassing.”

With that, Froise stood up. The shop was nearly empty now.

“Let’s call it a day.” She bid farewell to Butis and left with her bag.

Watching the silver-trimmed maid depart, Butis also left the bar.

“Turns out she really is a noble lady. I always thought it was a joke, but today she accidentally revealed herself.”

“Indeed, the identity and talent of a songstress can make people lose reason,” Butis said as the faint gold in her eyes faded.

“Well, this is as far as I can go. When I get home, Froise will probably realize and scold me.”

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that she knows, things won’t stay calm like before.”

“Forgive me, Mother of Heaven, your daughter has done mischief again today. But rest assured, she has no regrets.”

After a silent prayer, Butis left the quiet, empty Glass Dream.

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