Elysia
Chapter 10: Echoes in the Empty Halls

With the permission she had just been granted, a world of wonders opened up for Elina. Driven by a long-suppressed curiosity, she began her exploration of the silent Aurora Palace. Every step was a discovery, every door she passed a gateway to an unimaginable marvel.

She found a garden within a room, a giant conservatory where the crystal ceiling perfectly mimicked the cycles of day and night. Inside, the plants were not made of ordinary matter; flowers bloomed with petals of soft starlight, and the trees had leaves of slowly swirling nebulae. A small river of liquid silver that looked like molten moonlight flowed through the center of the garden, and when Elina dipped her finger in, the water felt warm and full of life energy. Here, the seasons changed not by the year, but by the mood of the palace itself—sometimes a bright spring, other times a melancholic autumn.

In another corridor, she found a long gallery. But it held no ordinary paintings or sculptures. Along the walls stood dozens of clear crystal pillars, and inside each pillar, a scene was frozen in time. In one, a giant demon with tattered wings was captured in a moment of silent rage, its fury so palpable Elina could feel it. In another, a hellish landscape of fire and black rock was trapped forever. There were also scenes of chaotic battles, shadowy figures fighting against monstrous creatures. Elina didn't understand what she was seeing, but she could feel the emotions trapped within the crystals—rage, despair, loneliness, and endless struggle. A cold fear enveloped her, and she quickly left the gallery, feeling as though she had just peeked into someone else's nightmare.

Her exploration led her to a strange kitchen. There was no stove, no pots, no pantry of ingredients. The room was empty, save for a large marble table in the center. As she stood there, her stomach rumbled slightly. She thought of an apple she had once seen in a fairy tale book—red, crisp, and sweet. As she pictured it, a soft light formed above the table, and from that light, a perfect red apple materialized. Its skin glistened and a drop of dew clung to it. Hesitantly, Elina took it and bit into it. It tasted exactly as she had imagined. It seemed the palace could hear her wishes.

The Aurora Palace was a place of endless magic, infinite beauty, and boundless luxury. Yet, after hours of wandering, Elina began to feel something else: an overwhelming silence. The magnificent halls were empty. The beautiful gardens had no visitors. This palace was a world created for only two people. And amidst all the splendor, Elina began to feel a little lonely.

That was when she heard it.

A sound she had never heard before. Not the sound of wind or babbling water. It was music. A complex and beautiful melody drifted from somewhere in a part of the palace she had not yet explored. The music was filled with a deep sadness, a longing so powerful that Elina could feel it in her chest, though she didn't understand why.

Driven by curiosity, she followed the source of the sound. She walked through darker corridors where the auroral light in the walls dimmed to a deep indigo. The music grew clearer, leading her to a pair of giant doors made of obsidian crystal. The doors were slightly ajar, and a soft light from within invited her in.

Elina peeked through the crack. Inside was an enormous room with a high, vaulted ceiling that displayed a slowly rotating view of a galaxy. In the center of the room, directly under a single beam of moonlight that somehow pierced the ceiling, stood a grand piano of polished black. And there she sat.

Elysia.

She sat with her back straight, her fingers dancing across the piano keys with mesmerizing speed and grace. Her eyes were closed, and for the first time, Elina saw a different expression on her face. Not a flat tranquility or a cold curiosity. There was a pure, unveiled sadness. A deep longing for something long lost. Every note she played was an echo of the past, a memory from another life, from when she was still Han Ji-hoon. The music was the only remaining bridge to her buried humanity.

Elina stood frozen in the doorway, hidden in the shadows. She was utterly captivated by the music and the sight before her. She didn't just hear the music; she felt Elysia's sorrow. She felt nine thousand years of loneliness in every melancholy note.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The last note hung in the silent air before finally vanishing.

Elysia had sensed her presence. Her eyes opened, and in an instant, her cool mask of indifference snapped back into place. The vulnerable expression from moments ago was gone without a trace, replaced by her usual majestic calm. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice flat again, though there was a slight sharp edge to it.

Elina flinched in fear. "I-I'm sorry, Lady Elysia," she stammered, taking a step back. "I… I was just exploring as you instructed. Then I heard… the music."

Elysia felt a flash of annoyance. Annoyance at herself for being caught off guard. Playing the piano was a private ritual, a weakness she did not want to show anyone, least of all this child. Her first instinct was to send her away, to command her never to return to this room.

But before she could speak, Elina asked a question with the pure innocence of a child. "It was… so beautiful. But… why did it sound so sad?"

The question stopped Elysia cold. No one had asked her something like that in millennia. No one had cared about her feelings. This simple question from a child pierced through the defenses she had built over thousands of years. How could she explain the loss of a world, a life, an identity? How could she explain nine millennia of battle and solitude to a child?

She couldn't. And she wouldn't.

Instead, she looked at the piano, then at Elina, who stood frightened in the doorway. An unexpected idea came to her. "Come here," she said, her voice softer now.

Hesitantly, Elina stepped into the dim room, approaching the magnificent ruler. Elysia shifted slightly on the long piano bench, gesturing for Elina to sit beside her. Elina obeyed, sitting rigidly, not daring to move.

They sat in silence for a moment. Elysia said nothing. She simply reached out, took one of Elina's small fingers, and gently pressed a single key in the middle of the piano.

Ting.

A single, clear, pure note echoed in the silent hall.

Then, Elysia, with one hand, began to play a very simple and slow melody. It was no longer the complex, suffering-filled classical piece from her old world, but a gentle lullaby. Music meant to soothe, not to mourn.

She kept playing, and Elina sat beside her, listening. She didn't understand what was happening, but she felt the sadness that had filled the room slowly being replaced by a warm, peaceful calm. It was a conversation without words. Elysia couldn't explain her sorrow, so instead, she shared her peace through music. It was her awkward way of saying, "I am sad, but you don't need to be afraid."

After a few moments, the melody ended. Elysia lifted her hand from the keys. She stood up. "That is enough for today," she said, her tone back to its usual neutrality.

She walked out of the room, leaving Elina still sitting alone at the giant black piano. Elina looked at the ivory keys before her. Hesitantly, she reached out her finger and pressed the same key Elysia had shown her.

Ting.

The clear note once again filled the silence.

Elina sat alone in the vast music hall, accompanied only by a single note. Today, she had discovered another side of her mysterious guardian. Not just an omnipotent ruler, but someone with a deep, hidden sadness. And in that quiet moment, Elina felt she had found an echo of humanity within the goddess. Their relationship had shifted, from merely an attendant and her master, to something far more complex and unspoken.