The amphitheater-style classroom shimmered with suspended chord lines in the air—literally. Notes floated like glowing butterflies between the students, trailing faint sound trails that looped around heads, wrists, and instruments. Lyra took a tentative seat beside Kai, who sat with his head down, long fingers lazily tuning his guitar. He hadn't spoken to her since the argument two days ago.
Professor Strumm entered—not walking, but striding like a man who owned every stage in the multiverse. His silver hair was tied in a low knot, and his jacket seemed stitched from guitar strings and thunderclouds. When he spoke, it was like a riff struck through silence itself.
"Welcome to Chords of Identity. This is not about playing the guitar. This is about becoming it."
Students straightened in their seats.
"You want MP? You want to stand on a multiverse stage? Then forget finger exercises and show me your soul through sound."
He raised his hand. "Let's start with you."
Kai didn't flinch. He stood, calm, cool, and quiet, cradling his black guitar like it was part of him. Lyra looked at him, anxiety bubbling beneath her skin. Would he walk away again? Would he ignore her?
But then he walked to the center circle, eyes half-lidded but burning beneath.
Professor Strumm nodded. "Play."
Kai didn't ask what. Didn't even look up. He placed his fingers and began to strum.
The first notes weren't loud—they were low, gritty, a whisper of rage held on a leash. His rhythm bent the air, pulling time forward and backward. It wasn't a flashy solo—it was raw. It sounded like a door slamming in the rain. Like shouting into a pillow. Like running until your lungs collapsed just to feel something again.
The students didn't move. Not a breath. Not a blink.
Lyra's eyes widened, her heart moving in sync with each rising chord. VIVA, whispering in her mind, said quietly: "I am registering audience heart rate spikes. He is… captivating."
Kai closed the solo with a single pull on the string that vibrated for a full ten seconds in complete silence.
Professor Strumm looked down at his palm. A gleaming number floated above it: 60 MP.
He smiled. "That… was music as memory. You've been holding back."
Kai didn't respond. He turned to leave the center.
But as he passed Lyra's seat, he paused. He didn't look at her, but his voice reached her ears.
"I didn't quit."
She looked up, startled.
"You didn't come after me," he added, more quietly.
"I wanted to," she said, guilt soaking her words.
Kai's shoulders shifted. "Next time, don't just want to. Do it."
And then he returned to his seat.
Professor Strumm's booming voice broke the silence.
"Who's next? Or are you all too shaken by that storm?"
The class burst into whispers and stolen glances, but Lyra just sat there, heart pounding. Not because of the music, or the points, or even the power Kai had shown—but because of something else. Something deeper.
Her bandmate had played a song made of silence, and somehow, she'd heard herself in it.
Kai may not have said it aloud, but Lyra could feel it.
He was staying. Not for himself.
But for her.
END OF CHAPTER 14