Bran stood on the street of the space station, his eyes brimming with sorrow.

A month ago, he was a special operative for Fia.

It was more accurate to say that from the moment he was conscious, he had been groomed as an operative for Fia. Starting at sixteen, he fought pirates, subdued planets, and seized space; all of Fia’s ambitions were realized by him and his unit.

Last month, they captured the resource planet named "Mott," paying a devastating price of ninety percent of their unit’s lives.

Fia invited the survivors to the Crystal Palace for commendations, only to be ambushed en route.

The ambushers turned out to be Fia’s own Dark Unit assassins.

The heaven he had revered had collapsed before his eyes without warning, exposing its true, monstrous face.

He had fought with all his might and escaped the massacre, now wandering the streets.

Bran couldn't understand, nor could he accept it.

But he had nothing, unable to do anything. His brothers were dead, his bullets spent, his combat knife broken. Money? The moment he used the card belonging to a special operative, the Dark Unit assassins would surround him.

As a soldier, his greatest wish was to die on the battlefield, to vanish into the sea of stars.

He never imagined that even this simple request had become an impossible luxury.

He would probably become the first special operative to starve to death...

Bran sat down in the street corner, leaning against the wall, and set down the cello case he carried on his back.

The case was the most common disguise for their weapon caches during missions.

It was the only thing he managed to bring out during the assassination attempt.

As long as there was a gun, one could survive.

That had been his creed for over twenty years.

Bran wiped his hands clean and slowly lifted the case lid.

In that instant, he was stunned.

Inside the case wasn't the gun he wanted, but a genuine cello!!!

Bran had no time to ponder who had swapped his gun for a musical instrument. His only thought was how to survive with the cello.

A demand? Not an antique, so no purchase.

Sell it to a second-hand shop? Too dilapidated; repairs would cost more than buying a new one. They refused.

Sell it for scrap? Two credits.

Two credits. Not enough to buy a single loaf of bread.

Bran sadly carried the case back to the steps in the corner, took out the cello, tuned it, and began to play right there on the street.

No one was buying instruments. Street performing would have to do.

The small detachment of his special forces unit was externally known as the Chamber Classical Ensemble.

Each member had a designation number and a case; he carried number three, the cello case.

Correspondingly, he had to learn the cello as a necessary skill for camouflage and for the unit’s annual talent show performance.

The cello’s tone was deep and rich, echoing the sorrow mixed with confusion in his emotions. As the melody climbed higher, it surprisingly evoked the grandeur of a thousand galloping horses.

He played and played, unable to stop.

Passersby paused to listen. Some dropped bills into his open case, and others bought him drinks...

Bran, tears welling in his eyes, looked up and saw a beautiful youth.

The youth had one hand tucked into the pocket of his purple-black trousers, an ancient paper book tucked under his arm. With elegant and unhurried movements, he walked up to Bran, paused slightly to the side, and sat down on the step next to him, leaning against the wall behind him, closing his eyes to sleep.

He possessed the most beautiful eyes—cat-like eyes, with long lashes. Yet, they lacked a cat’s seductiveness, possessing instead an inexplicable purity.

Bran was somewhat surprised, but since the youth didn't disturb him, he didn't speak.

After playing continuously for two hours, Bran glanced at the case; it seemed enough for lunch. He stopped playing.

The youth beside him opened his eyes at the same moment.

"Hello, my name is Tang Wen," the youth turned his head, smiling at him. "Can you be my music teacher?"

Bran was taken aback. "I don't understand musical theory; I only know how to play the cello."

The youth looked barely in his teens, with lingering childishness in his face, his bright, glittering eyes fixed on Bran.

The youth said, "That's fine."

Bran didn't know what possessed him, but as if guided by fate, he nodded.

Tang Wen smiled contentedly and immediately took him to the castle on the planet Karcher.

The castle was bright and spacious. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the rooms; when the curtains were drawn back, light spilled in, vibrant with life. In the center of the room stood a large white grand piano.

It was graceful and opulent, much like Tang Wen himself.

Tang Wen pointed at the piano and asked, "Can you play this?"

Bran shook his head, "No."

Tang Wen led him to another room, identically decorated, with a harp placed in the center. It was the same question: "Can you play this?"

Bran guessed his meaning and said, "I can only play the cello; nothing else."

Tang Wen clapped his hands happily, "That's fine. Follow me."

The third room was the largest in the entire castle—the library.

Tang Wen looked up at the library ceiling. "I put all the music books on the top level so I can look at them last. The music book on the third shelf from the top, counting from the top, and the seventh column from the left, is suitable for you." He then turned to Bran, "You learn all the instruments in this castle first before you teach me."

Bran: "..."

Was Tang Wen seriously hiring him as a music teacher?

Bran only felt a profound strangeness.

His brothers were all dead, he had been inexplicably hunted, rendered destitute on the street, and now, suddenly, he was the music teacher to a noble youth. The shift was too dramatic.

If he possessed profound musical attainment, this might be considered normal.

But he didn't.

Tang Wen offered no explanation, sitting at a desk, leisurely opening a book to read.

Bathed in the light, the youth’s expression was serene, like a painting.

Before Bran could dwell on his bewilderment for long, a group of people arrived at the castle. Leading them was a butler with silver-white hair, dressed in a black suit, white gloves, and a ruby bowtie knotted at his neck.

The butler entered and introduced himself, "Hello, I am the young master’s butler, Roy. Pleased to meet you."

Bran replied, "Hello, I am... Brantley, my name is Brantley."

The butler extended a gloved hand, presenting a sheet of paper, and smiled faintly, "Hello, Bran. Starting today, you are the young master's music teacher. As such, you will need to pass the following assessments."

Bran scanned the document. It listed dozens of assessment items. Half of them were things he knew how to do but could never pass, and the other half he didn't understand at all.

Tang Wen already knew he lacked musical knowledge. Bran didn't intend to repeat it; or rather, he suspected it wouldn't matter even if he did. He simply asked, "The deadline."

The butler replied, "Ask the young master about the deadline."

Bran almost laughed out loud.

Tang Wen’s purpose in hiring him as a music teacher was now painfully clear: Tang Wen didn't want to learn music! As long as the assessment deadline was in Tang Wen's hands, it didn't matter if the music teacher knew music or not.

So, was he someone struck by a lucky star? Lacking ability, yet escaping assassination and solving his sustenance and housing problems because of one of Tang Wen's whimsical demands?

After finishing the matter of the assessment, the butler had his accompanying staff settle Bran in before departing.

Bran watched them leave, perplexed, and couldn't help asking, "Aren't you his butler? Why don't you live here?"

The butler showed a hint of helplessness on his face and leaned closer to whisper, "I have been dismissed by the young master. You are the first person he has brought back; work hard. I have high hopes for you."

Bran: "..."

He wanted to ask more, but suddenly a loud shout came from the library. "Bran, I'm hungry!"

The butler, well aware that Tang Wen disliked him speaking to Bran, urged him, "The young master is summoning you, go quickly."

Bran reluctantly gave up his idea of conversing with the butler for the moment. He went to find Tang Wen dinner—no, afternoon tea.

The tea was served by robots; Bran was only responsible for carrying the tray.

When he placed the tray before Tang Wen, the youth didn't look at the food but stared intently at Bran's hands. "Know how to carry a rifle?"

Bran snapped to attention reflexively, "Yes!"

Tang Wen looked at him thoughtfully. "Know how to pilot a mech?"

Bran suddenly saw a glimmer of dawn. "I do!"

Tang Wen asked further, "Pilot's license, all three stripes cleared?"

Bran answered even more loudly, "Cleared!"

Tang Wen propped his chin in his hand and pondered, "Been to a Virtual Mech Pilot training base?"

Bran's face fell, and he muttered quietly, "I can't go."

Tang Wen raised his voice, "Hmm?"

Bran admitted, "I am currently being hunted."

Tang Wen slowly scrutinized him from head to toe. "From Fia?"

Bran’s expression immediately changed drastically.

He had been seen through by a mere teenager?

He had underestimated Tang Wen.

He had thought Tang Wen was just an ordinary noble youth, but now it seemed he had misjudged the situation entirely.

Bran suppressed his presence; his entire demeanor became vigilant.

Tang Wen looked at his hands. "You have calluses on your hands, and your posture is standard and upright—clearly a soldier. Your being on the streets and the sorrow in your music suggest you weren't honorably discharged. The Virtual Mech Pilot training base is a joint venture of the Four Great Families. Recently, only Fia has had significant changes in its military structure."

Bran: "..."

He had to concede.

Tang Wen leaned back in his chair lazily. "Before the butler left, I had him dispatch a team for your physical examination; they will arrive in ten minutes."

Bran was confused. "Is this a requirement for the position?"

Tang Wen tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "A hypocrite like Fia might have planted a tracker, a bug, or something even fouler on you."

Bran opened his mouth to argue, but the recent pursuit truly made him feel Fia's actions were despicable. Perhaps the physical was a good thing for him.

He didn't expect the results of the medical check-up to be even more astonishing than finding a tracking device or a listening bug.

His bone marrow had undergone pathological change!

To determine the root cause of the mutation, Tang Wen ordered an investigation into the entire incident.

It was only then that Bran learned the true reason he was being hunted.

The planet Mott contained radiation that caused bone marrow mutation. The special operatives who returned to the legion just before him had already shown signs of the mutation. Fia didn't want to waste money on them but also didn't want them surviving to leak secrets, so they decided to eliminate them all.

The moment Bran learned the outcome, his heart completely died to Fia.

Tang Wen did not expel him due to his illness; instead, he ordered the medical team to devise a solution and completely cure him.

As he lay in the medical pod, watching the medical staff work diligently on his condition, he understood the direction of his future endeavors.

His life had been saved by Tang Wen; he was willing to dedicate his life to serving him.

After being discharged, he returned to Tang Wen's castle, resolved to become an all-around music teacher.

When Tang Wen went to the Virtual Mech Pilot training base for sparring, Bran accompanied him. When Tang Wen learned to pilot, Bran studied alongside him. When Tang Wen read, Bran played music.

A year passed, and he had learned the basics of eighteen different instruments.

One afternoon, while he was practicing the piano, Tang Wen dropped his book and rushed in. "Bran, teach me to play the piano."

Bran was overwhelmed with gratitude.

He had never imagined he would actually get to be a music teacher.

However... Tang Wen possessed extraordinary talent in every other aspect, except playing the piano.

After a year of study, he only knew one move: face-planting on the keyboard, and even that wasn't taught by Bran.

The longer he spent near Tang Wen, the more he felt Tang Wen was willful, and the more willing he became to indulge that willfulness. Year after year, he accompanied Tang Wen through the Interstellar Federation, causing trouble for Fia, playing with mercenary groups, and teasing the Angelic Domain...

Life grew richer and more colorful, and his heart grew smaller.

Eventually, only one person remained in his sight: Tang Wen.

He had only one goal in life: to accompany Tang Wen forever!