Welcome to Miror

Maestro Fortescu

Female Reader x Male Monster

When I was very young, a fortune-teller once told me that I was running on stolen luck. Back then, I never understood what she meant, but looking at my life now that I am older, I think I get her drift.

I was abandoned as a baby, left out in the rain near the stables of the royal palace. I was found by the stable boy, who took me to his parents. The next day, the Queen came out to see the baby that was left behind, and when she took me into her arms, she knew right away that she was meant for me. I was raised a princess, doted on by my mother and fathers. My big brother, Ludovico, watched over me as well, although I grew up to be a bit tougher than he was.

I was lucky, and it never occured to me that it was stolen fortune. I was just happy living with my family, all of whom I loved. Here in Miror, luck has magical properties, and it isn't something you want to go around having stolen. It's like the joker card. It can be wild, and how it treats you is all its own decision. My family told me to ignore the fortune-teller, that my luck was all my own and my luck brought me here. Still, I often think of that woman clad in purple and wonder what she knew about me.

As I grew up, I discovered a penchant for music. I enjoyed writing music, playing it, singing, just about anything. My parents noticed my growing talents and passion, so they decided to let me become a pupil of the Maestro.

The Maestro was a strange man, but someone important to the entire palace. He was the one who composed all the music for the royal court. He wrote the operas that my grandmother, Merah Muda, loved so much. He wrote the wedding music for my mother and fathers. He was also responsible for selecting the members of royal orchestra, making sure it was filled with the best musicians in all of Miror. He was a genius, able to play instruments and write music from the time he was born - at least, that's how the legends go.

Merah Muda hired him on when she first became queen. She had been so enchanted by his music and skill that she wanted to make sure such a visionary was well taken care of. Ever since, he has lived in the palace, although he is a bit of a recluse. He only comes out once in a while, and it's the sort of event that Ludo and I keep track of. Ludo is scared of him, but I was always extremely curious.

I found out where the entrance to his chambers were, and I would watch it carefully. I sometimes even placed tape or a ribbon on the door to find out whether he left by it. Whenever I was able to catch him coming from his quarters, I would follow him around. More often than not, I annoyed the crap out of him. He wasn't afraid to snap at me or threaten me. I was never scared of him; I was much too curious to ever really be afraid.

Becoming his pupil was one of the most exciting events of my life. I would get to spend time with him, work with him, and he would have no choice but to be around me.

"You're a spoiled brat," he snapped at me at the start of our first lesson. "That is the only reason you are here. You like music? You like banging on your father's shield like a drum? You call that music?" he spat. "You are nothing but a privileged child." He jabbed a long finger in my face. It was the first time I ever noticed he had extra joints in his fingers.

The Maestro was an imposing figure, not just because of his foul attitude, but because of, well, just everything about him. Ludo likened him to the images of Death we often saw in picture books or in old paintings. He was this ageless, eternal being who had always existed and probably would long after we were gone. I wasn't sure if he really was, but rumors can create any sort of mystique around a person. The Maestro always wore black, and no matter the situation or celebration, he was always garbed in the richest of black clothing. He barely showed any skin, or what was under his clothing. He wore a mask at all times. He had many different ones, but the one he was usually seen in was fashioned of weighty metal. The dull sheen of its surface was covered with deep engravings, intricate details that coiled all around like vines. The eyeholes looked hollow and black, and the open mouth was sealed with a crisscrossing lattice. He was not the sort of figure one wanted to pass in the middle of the night.