Chiring chiring chiririri~ring~♬

Robert Ryan's vacation house, where a cool early-autumn sea breeze blew in with the evening.

The guests, chatting and enjoying the party, turned their ears to a soft violin melody drifting toward them.

This was the best New York party in recent memory.

The wide, airy garden looking out on the sea showed off everything good about the Atlantic once summer had retreated.

The wind was cool.

Wines of every kind, matched to every taste, were clearly the thousand-dollar-a-bottle kind.

Chefs and professional waiters sent over from a hotel raised the level of the party.

First-rate chefs cooked right in front of the guests.

Neat waiters wove among the guests, anticipating every need.

The flood of famous faces was more than enough to satisfy every guest's pride.

Connections made in an economic crisis guaranteed survival in an uncertain future.

Behind their smiles, everyone was busy gathering information.

A high-society party, like a fierce battlefield of spies.

The violin, quiet at first, gradually captured everyone.

It carried clearly to every corner of the wide garden.

A violin sonata that burrowed into the ear, as if you were listening from the VIP royal box.

"..." The noisy chatter gradually died down.

A deep, rich melody, like Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen, which stirs human feeling to its depths.

People quietly closed their mouths and, without realizing it, turned their eyes to the center of the stage.

A man was standing there.

The tails of his suit fluttering in the wind, he played the violin with his eyes gently closed.

A perfect posture, suited to his tall, lean frame.

Delicate sound rode the wind along the bow.

You could almost see notes floating around the man.

This was a solo sonata full of character.

It moved freely, unbound by any set form.

Like the irregular wind blowing in off the sea, the violin melody followed no set pattern.

Ttiriri chiring~♪ chireureureureureu~♬.

The music felt woven through with literature.

It pictured someone confessing love in verse.

A sudden first meeting, a time of sweet whispers, and then the stormy language of love—all of it…