Chapter 36: Invitation
We followed Sarah down the long corridor, our footsteps echoing in the quiet hall. The faint sound of a piano from another room drifted through the air, a melancholic tune that made my chest tighten. Emma walked beside me, her grip on her notebook firm but her expression resolute. I couldn't help but admire the change in her demeanor.
When we reached the heavy double doors leading to the evaluation room, Sarah paused and turned to us.
"This will be a little different," she said, her tone even but firm. "You'll both be briefed individually and together about the committee's decision. They'll also discuss next steps—if there are any."
Emma and I exchanged a glance, her determination now mirrored by my own.
Sarah pushed the doors open, revealing the committee seated at the long table. Six faces turned toward us, their expressions inscrutable. Professor Hartley was at the center, flanked by Dr. Elara and Ms. Birch on one side, and Dr. Patel, Dr. Liao, and Professor Winters on the other.
"Welcome," Hartley said, gesturing for us to sit in the two chairs facing them. "Let's get started."
The room was tense, every sound amplified—the shuffling of papers, the slight creak of chairs. My pulse quickened as Hartley leaned forward, his hands clasped.
The tension in the room was palpable as Professor Hartley delivered the committee's decision.
"Ms. Kürz," he said, turning his attention to Emma, "your presentation and invention have exceeded our expectations. You've been granted full admission to PIUT. Congratulations."
Emma's face lit up, her hands clutching her notebook tightly to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and joy.
Hartley's expression softened briefly before shifting toward me. My heart pounded in my chest as I braced myself.
"Rio," he began, his tone measured. "Your performance today was remarkable—one of the most original compositions we've heard in recent years. But PIUT isn't just a platform for raw talent. It's a crucible that demands not only brilliance but resilience, discipline, and adaptability."
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of my chair.
"To that end," he continued, "you've been offered conditional admission. Your acceptance is contingent upon successfully completing a trial under the Akashic Project."
The room seemed to tilt as the words sank in.
"The Akashic Project?" I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Patel's sharp gaze met mine. "It's our most challenging program, designed to push candidates beyond their limits. You'll be tested on every level—creatively, mentally, emotionally. There are no guarantees. Some emerge stronger; others..." He let the sentence hang, his meaning clear.
Emma turned to me, concern etched across her face. "Rio, are you sure about this?"
Before I could respond, Dr. Elara spoke, her voice gentler. "The Akashic Project is not a decision to be made lightly. You'll have until tomorrow morning to accept or decline. If you choose to proceed, know that this path is not for the faint of heart."
Professor Winters leaned forward, his dark-framed glasses catching the light. "This is your chance, Rio, but it comes at a cost. You'll face isolation, relentless pressure, and challenges that will test the very core of who you are. Success will earn you a place here—and possibly reshape the way you approach music forever. Failure..." He paused, his expression grave. "Failure could break you."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Emma reached out, her fingers brushing my arm. "Rio, you don't have to do this."
I looked at her, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. But something deep inside me stirred—a spark of defiance, of determination. This was my chance to prove myself, to show the world what I was capable of.
"I'll think about it," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Hartley nodded, standing and gathering his notes. "We'll expect your answer tomorrow morning. Whatever you decide, Rio, know that the choice is yours."
As the committee left the room, Emma lingered by my side.
"Rio," she said softly, "just... be sure, okay? I don't want to see you hurt yourself for this."
I gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. "Thanks, Emma. I'll figure it out."
She hesitated before nodding, then turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the empty hall.
The silence pressed down on me, the weight of the decision settling over my shoulders. But deep down, I knew one thing for sure.
If I didn't take this chance, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.
----
As Sarah's car rolled to a stop in front of the house, the familiar sight of the cozy two-story home I shared with my family brought a sense of calm. The porch light was on, casting a soft glow over the neatly trimmed hedges my dad took pride in. The evening air was crisp, the sky painted in streaks of orange and purple from the setting sun.
"Thanks for the ride," I said, turning to Sarah.
She rested her arm on the steering wheel and gave me a small smile. "You've got a lot on your plate, Rio, but I have to say, I'm impressed. Not everyone walks into PIUT and leaves the kind of mark you did today."
I chuckled softly, leaning back against the seat for a moment. "You think so? Because right now, it feels like I just barely kept it together."
Her smile widened, this time with a touch of mischief. "Barely is still keeping it together. And let me tell you, most students don't get offered the Akashic Project. That's not just pressure—it's a compliment."
I nodded, letting her words sink in. Maybe she was right. Maybe this wasn't just an impossible challenge—it was a sign that they saw something in me worth believing in.
"Well," she continued, pulling her keys from the ignition, "get some rest. Big decisions need a clear mind, and something tells me you'll figure it out."
"I will," I promised, opening the door. "Thanks again, Sarah. For everything."
"Anytime." She gave me a final nod as I closed the door. Her car pulled away, the red glow of her taillights fading into the distance.
Turning to the house, I noticed the driveway was empty—no sign of my parents' car or my sister's bike propped up by the garage. Strange. They weren't usually out this late, but it wasn't unheard of.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the quiet stillness of the house. The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air—my mom's favorite candle, burned earlier in the day. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my shoes, pausing for a moment to listen to the silence.
The living room was tidy, the couch pillows fluffed and in place. My piano stood in the corner, its dark surface catching the warm glow of a lamp left on in the hallway. It was comforting in its stillness, a reminder of what grounded me even on chaotic days like this.
I wandered to the kitchen, checking the fridge where we usually left notes for each other. Sure enough, there was one in my mom's neat handwriting:
Out for dinner. Don't wait up. Love you!
I smiled faintly, feeling a pang of relief. At least I didn't have to explain the day's rollercoaster just yet. Tonight, it was just me, the house, and my thoughts.
I grabbed a soda from the fridge and made my way to the piano, setting the can on a coaster nearby. The Akashic Project sounded daunting—something far bigger than I'd ever faced. But as I sat on the bench and ran my fingers over the keys, a flicker of excitement sparked within me.
This wasn't fear—it was opportunity.
I began to play, letting the notes flow freely. It wasn't one of my compositions, just a stream of thoughts in music form. The sound filled the house, soft and bright, like a conversation with myself.
The Project might push me to my limits, but wasn't that the point? To reach for something greater, even if it seemed impossible?
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Emma.
Emma: Hey, you said you play Trinity Blade, right? They're having a new event. Wanna team up? (^_^)
Ah, right. I'd forgotten we exchanged numbers earlier. Trinity Blade was the VR MMORPG that was all the rage lately. The thought of diving back into the game, especially with Emma, made me feel a spark of excitement. I didn't have many close friends, and contact with the opposite gender was... well, minimal. So the idea of teaming up with someone who seemed as genuine and down-to-earth as Emma was something I didn't expect, but I definitely welcomed.
As I set my phone down again, a new feeling settled in. It wasn't just about the game—it was the chance to actually connect with someone. It had been a while since I'd felt that kind of ease with someone, especially outside of my family. I hadn't had the best track record with making friends, and my interactions with girls were mostly limited to casual acquaintances. Emma felt different though. We clicked, and it wasn't just the shared interests or the brief exchange of numbers—it was the way we made each other laugh, how the conversation came easily, and how, even now, I was looking forward to it.
The piano called me back to reality, but that feeling of anticipation lingered. I wasn't sure exactly where things were going, but the idea of spending time with Emma, in and out of the game, felt good. Maybe things were finally starting to change.
I picked up my phone again, double-checking her message. "Wanna play together?" I could already picture us navigating the new event side by side, joking around, maybe even figuring things out together as we went. The idea made me feel like I wasn't just going through the motions of life—I was actually living it. I casually accepted her invitation then continued my playing. I couldn't just stop halfway of my playing. After all, the show must go on.
As I was playing I didn't even realize how much the music had changed, how the tone had shifted with my mood. It was as if the piano itself had caught my excitement, wrapping the sound around with new-found thrill.