One day inside of a stately manor standing proud in a rural countryside came a lovely singing voice.
It wasn't that bad, it just sounded like any other person singing something they heard off the sound crystal. In another room; however, was a group of people who truly hated it with all their hearts.
"I got a secret I can't tell. Guess I better..."
"Dang it! He's singing again."
A man slams his fist into the table.
"When is that boy ever gonna stop moping and get his a*s in gear?"
"Just like magic! Watch and see..."
A very tired sounding voice speaks up.
"He doesn't seem very depressed to me."
"Yeah, that's more of clay's thing."
"Thank you."
The first voice then shouted in a completely livid tone.
"That's not the point! The point is that he's got no prospects. Ever since he lost that match, he's given up training in any capacity. He's been gallivanting so late, he might as well be nocturnal!"
He slams the table.
"And this! this..."
He gestured wildly at the magnificent vibrato of this new song.
"It's mine, mine, mine!"
"He sounds like a d**m fool!
"Actually this one's not so bad."
There were a few muttered agreements around the table.
"One! One song out of hundreds! And again... That's not the point!"
Suddenly the door opened and a formally dressed man walked into the room.
"Sorry, I'm late. I had to explain to morrowson why I haven't picked a successor yet."
He sat down at the table and straightened his clothes.
"So what did I miss?"
Every person at the table looked at him. Staring silently with unnerving focus.
He was desperately looking for an icebreaker after ten seconds.
"So tell me what you're looking for..."
Trying his hardest not to seem desperate, he asked.
"Is someone singing?"
"Yeah, your fool of a son."
"Oh..."
A pale woman in blue robes held aloft a graph that depicted a flatline.
"Pray tell, Richmond..."
She said in the most sarcastic tone she could muster.
"What the f**k is this?"
"Wha- Well I-it s-"
"IT'S A GRAPH THAT SHOWS HOW MUCH YOUR SON IS SLACKING OFF YOU CROC****R!"
The woman threw the graph at him. She was breathing heavily and looked like she wanted to strangle someone. Richmond couldn't decide if he was proud or absolutely terrified.
"How was that? Did I do it right?"
She looked a little nervous as she went back to her much calmer self.
The old man gave a beaming smile.
"You did great, sweetie, even better than what we practiced."
An old woman addressed the issue.
"Richmond this is an intervention."
He gave an offended look.
"What for? Is this about the puzzles?"
"No, well yes. They take up too much space and are impossibly complicated. But that's not why we're here."
The tired voice spoke up again, It's owner's face was firmly planted to the table's surface.
"It's about Grant!"
"Claire's right,-"
"Clay."
"Grant hasn't trained in months."
"He's always outside."
"He needs to accept that he lost!"
Everyone started yelling all at once, drowning out the singing.
He quickly cast a silence bubble around himself and ducked under the table.
The shaking stopped after a few minutes. Cautiously dispelling the bubble, he popped his head out like a groundhog trying to see if the stalkers were gone.
When there wasn't an explosion of sound trying to rupture his ears, he sat back in his chair.
"Everyone, I understand that Grant has been a little... frustrating at times. But, think of this. He was a genius; comprehending formulas and energy flow faster than any of his peers. This is his first loss, and if not properly taken care of, it could devastate his chances of progressing further."
"I know he hasn't been himself, but he has been years ahead of everyone he knows. I told myself when he lost that I would give him one year to recover- NO!"
He let out a wave of energy when he saw everyone standing up.
"Everyone okay?"
He said looking around the room at the, now more respectful family members.
"Hear me out. It's almost six."
A dawning realization came over the crowd as they took in the implications.
"I'll tell him later. He'll have the rest of the day, but tomorrow he gets his a**s in gear."
...
...
...
"Everything changes, changes!"
"Seriously though, why is he singing?"