Early the next morning, even earlier than usual, the sound of the piano began to echo from within the villa.
What was different from usual was that the piano sounds seemed choppy and intermittent this time, even the playing technique seemed rudimentary and awkward. Honestly speaking, it was as if a fledgling Magic Apprentice was stuttering incantations.
The reason for this was simple. The one standing in front of the piano and tentatively playing was not Miss Bauman herself, but the mechanical steward wrapped in his eternally unchanged black cape.
Desmond did not sit on Miss Bauman's performance chair, the reason was clear. His massive weight, which was almost entirely made of crystal, was definitely not something an ordinary chair could bear. The mechanical steward was just standing there conscientiously, his upper body slightly leaning forward, so that his left fingers could just touch the piano keys.
