A Thriller Academy (Transmigration) - Chapter 3

According to the novel’s setting, the dance students followed a relatively grueling practice schedule with a tight pace, while the instrumental department was essentially in “leisure mode.” After Hilda left, Mr. Judith remained in a state of “divine disappearance,” so Tao Lesi spent her time slacking off while trying to untangle the mess of thoughts in her head.

Her method of untangling things was to incessantly annoy Aisibi.

“In the original book, there was no plot point where Hilda asked Dorothy to provide piano accompaniment. Can I interpret this as the story changing because of my appearance?”

“Please don’t overrate your own influence, okay? Just because it wasn’t described in the original work doesn’t mean the event didn’t exist,” Aisibi said.

Yet, inexplicably, Tao Lesi felt a faint sense of anticipation regarding the Principal’s “meet me after school” invitation.

She was truly interested in Hilda.

Back in her dormitory room, Tao Lesi began to carefully rummage through Dorothy’s clothes and belongings.

Because students were scarce, dormitory resources were relatively abundant; usually, only one or two students shared a room. The room wasn’t large, containing two single beds—much like a standard hotel room, only much older. Patches of peeling wall were covered up by students with posters.

Dorothy and Anastasia had shared this room. Anastasia’s bed was now just a bare mattress. A few scraps of waste paper were scattered on the floor, and several empty cosmetic bottles sat on the nightstand; it looked like she had packed her essentials and bolted. Tao Lesi looked through Dorothy’s suitcase and realized that the girl lived very simply.

Most of her clothes were old, she didn’t have a single stylish dress, and she didn’t even own any decent makeup.

Tao Lesi found Dorothy’s wallet and counted the coins one by one. Although she didn’t yet understand the cost of living in this world, it seemed Dorothy wasn’t destitute—she was an arts student, after all.

I definitely need to buy some new gear this weekend.

However, Madam Hilda always seemed to dress plainly. If Dorothy dressed up like a blooming flower and stood next to Hilda, it would look rather strange.

“Um…” Aisibi’s voice sounded hesitant for the first time. “That, uh… you aren’t planning to… romance Hilda Stan, are you?”

“Romance?” Tao Lesi found the question odd. “Is she a romanceable option? Why shouldn’t I?”

“I mean, you can, as long as you can stay alive after Hecate descends,” Aisibi said. “It’s just… well, your taste is a bit unusual. I thought you’d try for Shoshana or Hannah or someone like that.”

“You talk too much,” Tao Lesi said crossly.

Anastasia had left in a hurry, leaving behind some clutter she hadn’t managed to deal with. Adhering to the principle of keeping one’s living space clean regardless of where it is, Tao Lesi tidied up the room.

Underneath Anna’s bed, Tao Lesi swept out an opened envelope containing a crumpled piece of letter paper. She unfolded it and saw several lines of scrawled handwriting:

Dear Anna,

The cigarette factory is sending me to Frankfurt on a business trip for about a month. I hope everything is well with you during this time. If you are still nervous and having trouble sleeping, or still think your teachers and classmates are witches, you can go to the factory and find Maria. She might be able to find you a bed in the staff dormitory.

Love, Henry.

The date at the bottom was from three days ago.

After reading it, Tao Lesi carefully tucked the paper back into the envelope and placed it in the drawer of Anna’s nightstand.

Anna’s boyfriend was away on a trip, and Anna knew about it. Therefore, Anna likely hadn’t eloped with Henry. Where had she gone?

“Where did she go?” Tao Lesi asked Aisibi.

“How should I know?” Aisibi replied impatiently.

After dinner, the sky turned dark instantly. The air was thick with a muggy, damp smell; it was likely going to rain soon.

Tao Lesi arrived at the dance studio early. Hilda hadn’t arrived yet, and the room was empty, the lights humming.

The novel had described this studio many times. The floor was covered in faded wood, and one wall was lined with massive mirrors, fronted by a ballet barre. However, the mirrors were currently covered by deep red velvet curtains. Incandescent lights hung from the ceiling, and an old upright piano sat in the corner.

Tao Lesi walked to the piano and pushed back the lid.

She looked down at the black and white keys, suddenly wanting to play something. Perhaps it was the impending solo time with Hilda that made her feel a bit nervous.

She began to play the first eight bars of Badarzewska’s A Maiden’s Prayer. Though the piano was old, the tuning was decent. As the eighth bar ended, Tao Lesi felt a sudden intuition and stopped. Only the soft, lingering resonance of the melody remained in the air.

She turned around. Hilda was standing silently behind her, holding several sheets of paper. She was still wearing the black dress that looked like a priest’s robe, but her hair was now down, flowing softly over her shoulders.

“Good evening, Madam,” Tao Lesi said.

“Good evening, dear.” Hilda walked over and spread the sheets of paper on the music stand.

“Your playing is too stiff; that is your usual flaw,” Hilda noted. “It doesn’t sound like a maiden’s prayer—it sounds like a maiden’s accusation. However, that is exactly the feeling I need.”

Tao Lesi looked at the music on the stand and was utterly bewildered.

The score was very, very simple. The right-hand melody and left-hand accompaniment consisted entirely of single notes; there wasn’t a single chord. Upon closer inspection, the melody could hardly be called a melody at all, and the left-hand accompaniment formed entirely dissonant intervals with the right. It felt like the resulting sound would be no different from the noise made by rolling one’s face across the keyboard—though rolling your face might at least produce a chord or an arpeggio.

Aside from the clef and key signature, the score had no markings—no dynamics, no pedal marks. It looked like someone had just scribbled randomly on staff paper and added bar lines. In short, it felt very… minimalist and avant-garde.

“I don’t understand,” Tao Lesi said, staring at the music.

“Is it too simple?” Hilda asked.

“No, it’s not harmonious enough.”

Hilda spread her hands and explained: “What I want is dissonance. My dance is not ballet, but pain and struggle. The dance itself is bone and flesh; the accompaniment is the soul. I like the cold, hard quality in your playing. It makes me feel that you, Dorothy, have become a different person—no longer Dorothy.”

Tao Lesi looked up in shock, staring at Hilda.

Did she find out? Tao Lesi whispered to Aisibi in her mind.

“Probably not, but as the leader of these witches, Hilda is bound to be more perceptive than average. You’d better watch yourself,” Aisibi warned.

Tao Lesi steadied her nerves, looked at the score, and decided to improvise.

The music was simple, and sight-reading was no problem. At first, she decided to play it quickly and lightly, creating a Baroque atmosphere. But she soon realized that noise was just noise, even in a Baroque style. Perhaps the arrangement of these notes was too random; the whole piece sounded eerily bizarre in a way she couldn’t describe.

“No, no, the tempo is too fast. Slower,” Hilda called a halt. She placed a hand on Tao Lesi’s right shoulder. Whether it was an illusion or not, Tao Lesi immediately felt her right hand grow heavy.

Tao Lesi slowed down and played the piece again. She could play every note accurately, and she could even increase the difficulty—such as playing the right hand in octaves, changing the left hand into chords, or adding an impromptu cadenza—but none of that was what Hilda wanted.

Tao Lesi played it over and over, adjusting the speed and dynamics. After about an hour, Hilda said, “That will be all for today. Thank you for your hard work; you may go back and rest.”

However, judging by her tone, she didn’t seem entirely satisfied. Tao Lesi hadn’t quite captured the feeling she was looking for.

What a load of crap.

When Tao Lesi left the building, it was pitch black and raining heavily. Most of the windows in the dormitory building opposite were lit, but the teaching building was now dark. Tao Lesi looked back; the lights in the dance studio were off, the entire first floor was a black void, and Madam Hilda was nowhere to be seen.

She lowered her head and ran toward the dormitory through the rain.

On her first day inside the book, Tao Lesi felt exhausted—both physically and mentally.

She returned to her room and, without bothering to visit Shoshana or chat with Aisibi, washed up and went to bed. In the middle of the night, she woke up in a daze. The rain was still falling outside. Aside from the sound of water hitting the windowsill and glass, there was movement behind her—as if someone was rummaging through the room.

Who would sneak into her room in the middle of the night? A thief? The security at this crappy school was terrible.

Tao Lesi rolled over. By the light of the streetlamp outside, she saw a slender girl with curly hair. She was wearing a white nightgown covered in large, dark patterns. She was barefoot, her back to Tao Lesi, rummaging through Anna’s bed as if looking for something.

“Is that Anastasia?” Tao Lesi asked Aisibi.

Aisibi’s electronic voice knew no drowsiness or fatigue; it remained as eerie as ever.

“Hello. It is Anastasia, but not entirely.”

“What do you mean ‘is, but not entirely’?” Tao Lesi was baffled.

Anastasia was kneeling on the floor, her hand reaching under the bed. Tao Lesi wondered if she was looking for that letter Henry had written her.

“Anna,” Tao Lesi sat up and asked, “how did you get back?”

Hearing Tao Lesi’s voice, Anna slowly stood up, but she did not turn around; she kept her back to Tao Lesi.

Tao Lesi suddenly felt that something was wrong.

She had assumed Anna was facing away because she could only see long, curly hair. But now she realized that Anna was actually “facing” her—the girl slowly reached out both hands toward Tao Lesi, then withdrew them and reached for her own neck. Yet, the back of Anna’s head remained pointed squarely at Tao Lesi.

It was a scene Tao Lesi had only ever seen in horror movies.

What Tao Lesi had thought were dark patterns on the nightgown were actually massive bloodstains. Judging by the shape of the stains, her throat had been slit, and the resulting spray had dyed the fabric.

Anna’s hands gripped her own neck tightly. A sickening creak-creak sound came from her spine as she seemed to be struggling with all her might to twist her head all the way around.

“Holy sh*t!” Tao Lesi screamed.