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Section 1
## Illustrations
## Episode One: Dan Sariel and the Silver Tiger
Taiwan edition. Reprinted from Sakuraba (blog.sina.../makeinunovels) "N-no, this is bad, Master Sariel! The title of our story—why doesn't it note a color?" "But my name is right there. What more are you hoping for?" "The Leo series is a perfectly clear precedent." "...I'm telling you lot, 'silver,' as a rule, already counts as... forget it. Better not say it... ——————————————— 1 When the last note vanished completely into the air, thunderous applause filled the concert hall. The lights over the audience came up, and the hall was wrapped in illumination. Many spectators rose from their seats and flung words of praise toward the stage without holding back. They were not only human. The spheres drifting above the stage like fireflies were lower spirits, the Blei. The light on their bodies flickered happily on and off, frankly showing their joy at the performance just ended. The man standing on the stage slowly took the violin down from his shoulder. He smiled at the Blei, then raised one hand toward the house, pressed it to his chest, and bowed to the audience. The man looked about twenty-five or twenty-six. His elegant bearing was like a figure in a painting. He was tall and slender, and the classical evening dress he wore cut an imposing figure. Silver hair combed back and bound into a tail bounced like a hound's tail with his movements. The man lifted his head and looked out over the audience once more. Perhaps because he had just played with everything he had, his breathing was still a little quick, and the sweat on his brow glinted...
## Episode Two: Dan Sariel and the Glorious Jamaica ○○ Type I
1 "Oh my, oh my~~ Welcome, Master Dan. I'm sorry there's nothing much I can offer you... Oh my, oh my? Oh my, oh my? Goodness, you've already noticed? Yes, I fear you haven't seen one before, have you? After all, that one-person orchestra is a 'prototype,' a model that still hasn't circulated on the market. This model, it seems, is supplied only to a 'very small number' of 'trusted' 'clients.' And so our Tsuge Office has long been on good 'terms' with Jamaica. They 'often' provide us with the 'latest' technology. Still, this is truly too 'expensive.' It might just end up a 'dream machine.' Hee hee. But in the end it is an experimental model, isn't it? Even with all that 'high performance,' it 'only' has actual results and reliability. Next to the one you were so proud of the other day—that is, that 'one' ancient 'old-model' machine you showed me—it's still the better of the two, isn't it? That one, the high-end model 'suited to ordinary people'? Oh ho ho ho... Hm? Oh my, what's the matter, Master? You're leaving? Weren't you showing off your treasure just now—that is, explaining it until people were sick of listening? Well then, take care on your way! Heh heh, ah ha, oh ho ho ho ho!" ★ "That wretched woman!" The instant he stormed down the stairs before the entryway, Sariel's shoulders shook with rage, and he ground his teeth and stamped, beating his chest. "She played me for a fool! She played me for a fool! She played me for a fool—!" Silver hair nearly standing on end, he complained with bitter hatred. And the one who caught up just behind...
## Episode Three: Dan Sariel and the Proud Old Musicians
1 "That young man has no manners at all, when you think about it!" The words, spoken almost offhand, set everyone offering opinions one after another. Truths they usually swallowed for the sake of face and pride now began to spill, one by one, from the mouths of the people gathered in the backstage lounge. "He hardly has any experience." "If you ask me, he's nothing but a clown the media is toying with." "Even so, that fellow's arrogance lately is more than a person can stand to watch!" "Exactly. He acts as if he were the most esteemed man in the music world." "Ignore him! He's only popular with a public that likes whatever feels new!" "That's right. If we took that frivolous music of his seriously, we'd be the fools." "But..." No one there raised a voice in open condemnation, yet in the words they deliberately kept low, jealousy, unease, and twisted pride showed through in many places. Put plainly, they were grumbling. The roundabout tone, though, left the air of the backstage lounge heavy and dark. Even so, it was no wonder they wanted to complain. Tonight's concert had been meant as a performance with them as the leads. By rights it should have been a high-toned classical occasion performed by them—veteran players, and elders of the music world. Instead, a young musician had ruined it. The audience that turned out was a spectacle no one had seen before, yet the greater part of them were people who ordinarily had neither interest in classical music nor any cultivation in it...
## Episode Four: A Happy Day for Momo Palmira Falstaff
★ Momo Palmira Falstaff always rose early. She was a spirit, but for a Fermanubic, whose body was the same as a human's, ample sleep was one of the surest ways to clear away fatigue. Early to bed and early to rise was the source of beauty and health, and Momo, whose thinking was more old-fashioned than her looks, had always believed that firmly. Sariel's habits, though, were the opposite of healthy living. He slept when he felt like sleeping, and if he could not sleep he stayed awake until dawn. Setting aside the times when work was truly busy, that alone was enough to wreck any regular rhythm. On top of that, he was fond, deep down, of sleeping in the morning and of staying up all night—especially the latter—and Momo was often obliged to keep him company to the end. For a contracted spirit set on pursuing health, every morning became an awkward battle against the temptation to oversleep or crawl back under the covers. That morning, Momo succeeded in climbing out of the bedding and shaking off that temptation, however much it hurt. Without hesitation she drew the curtains and let her whole body bathe in the sunlight pouring into the room. The light was a little dazzling, and it stung her eyes, but only for the first second. Before long the fresh sunlight and her mood melted together and dissolved the sleep-demon still clinging desperately inside her head. Today, too, was fine, clear weather. Momo turned and looked over her room. The private room Sariel had given her was nearly filled by the bed and the wardrobe. She kept every corner tidied, though, so even if the space was narrow, it counted as a neat room. And in the little cabinet beside the bed, a palm-sized teddy bear and a small...
## Afterword
A year has already flown by since we met in *Concerto of Strange Colors*. Thanks to all of your affection, I have been able to return to GA Bunko. I am Kouhei Azano. To readers encountering my work for the first time through this book: hello, and pleased to meet you. I am a newcomer to the Divine Song Realm. I hope you will look kindly on me. ~ ...Ah, and you, the reader standing there with this book—the line at the register has pretty much cleared, you know? ~ Well then, well then. For readers who have already seen *Concerto of Strange Colors*, what follows may be something you have heard before, but I still want to explain, first, how I came to take part in the Divine Song Realm. To begin with, *Concerto of Strange Colors* was a collection of short stories in the "Divine Song Realm," published in the summer of last year. Four writers each created their own pieces, a special project depicting the world of the Divine Song Realm. I was one of the writers invited to contribute at the time. Even so, it was my first job for GA Bunko. It was also my first time joining in the creation of a shared world. My grasp of the worldview and the setting was shallow, I failed to notice how willfully I was behaving, and I did not even keep the deadline (though that had nothing to do with composing a divine song), and I caused a great deal of trouble for the people around me. I had accepted the job half a year earlier, and still I was a month late with the manuscript. What was more, the story I finished was completely different from the concept I had originally proposed... That doesn't sound real, does it? It's outrageous, isn't it? I am truly sorry. (No—I mean that sincerely.) That said, perhaps I ought to call it everyone's doing, but in the end I myself was quite...