Meanwhile, Grigory regarded music as a delightful new companion, though one that remained terribly unfamiliar. He could never quite understand what music wished to tell him. Was it trying to teach him about love, or loneliness? Anger, or compassion? The emotions painted through music were far too complicated—rather like his parents.Grigory could never quite determine whether Polina and Anatoli genuinely wished to support him, or whether they merely wanted a trophy they could proudly display wherever they went. Every victory was greeted with tremendous joy, yet every defeat, however insignificant, was followed by disappointment of an almost unbearable magnitude.He gradually came to understand that something must be given in exchange for his parents’ smiles.
And so, he practised. For hours upon hours, day after day, until his fingers grew stiff and his back ached from sitting before the piano for far too long. He entered competition after competition, performed compositions whose sentiments he could scarcely comprehend, and accepted every word of praise as a child might accept a reward for good behaviour.But to little Grigory, none of that particularly mattered. So long as his parents were smiling.

NOCTURNE OP. 1 NO. 2

His world changed when his parents took him to watch a ballet competition. Apparently, a number of renowned musicians and artists would be attending. An opportunity far too valuable to miss, particularly for a young pianist whose reputation was only beginning to flourish.Yet it was neither the musicians nor the distinguished artists who captured Grigory’s attention. It was a little girl. A little girl whose name, he would later discover, was Liliya Yevgeniya.She bewitched his entire world, transforming its dreary shades of grey into a thousand brilliant colours, allowing a delicate ray of light to enter a place that had never known such radiance before. Grigory could not tear his eyes away.He watched her every movement: the way her arms rose gracefully with the music, the way her body turned with such extraordinary lightness, as though gravity itself had decided to make a small exception for her. Every step appeared so effortless, so impossibly beautiful, that Grigory nearly forgot he was watching a performance.Within his mind, notes he had never played before began to ring. Melodies emerged one after another, calling out to one another, as though each were impatiently demanding to be brought to life.For the first time, Grigory did not wonder whether his playing would win him another competition. He simply wanted to play something for her.Oh, so this was what it felt like? Was this how music was supposed to sound?That little girl had helped Grigory discover his music. She had enchanted him with her dancing, giving meaning to something he had previously understood only as a succession of notes and techniques.And so, Grigory ceased to care about anything else: his parents, fame, victories, or even his own genius. Let his parents use him for their own purposes. He would use them for Liliya’s sake, just the same; He wanted to make music for that girl.Every melody he played upon the piano was dedicated to a girl who did not even know of his existence. A ballerina so lovely, who danced as though the world were an endless meadow of flowers, and she herself the loveliest blossom among them all.Grigory was merely a little boy standing at the edge of that meadow, utterly captivated by a beauty unlike anything he had ever witnessed.But he had no intention of remaining a spectator forever.
And thus, he became Petrushka, the puppet who fell in love with a ballerina. Except Grigory had no intention of leaving his story in the hands of fate. He would strive until he was worthy of standing beside Liliya.Even if that pursuit demanded far more than he could ever have imagined.

NOCTURNE OP. 2 NO. 1

Grigory’s name gradually became known throughout the world of classical music, owing to his rather distinctive interpretations of the great composers’ works. He won numerous piano competitions, earned recognition from established musicians, and developed a reputation as a remarkably promising young pianist.Upon completing his secondary education, he was awarded a scholarship to study piano at the Royal Academy of Music in London.Years passed. His abilities flourished, his reputation grew, and opportunities continued to present themselves. Yet behind every achievement, Grigory harboured a desire that had remained unchanged since the day he first watched Liliya dance.He did not wish to spend the rest of his life seated before a piano. He wanted to stand before an orchestra. He wanted to be the one who brought every melody to life, guided every instrument, and united dozens of musicians into a single, magnificent performance. Not for the audience’s applause; nor for the glory of his own name—but for the ballerina who had given him a reason to love music.
Thus, after completing his piano studies, Grigory began pursuing conducting through further training and opportunities to work with orchestras. His decision, unsurprisingly, sent his parents into a fury.How could he possibly abandon the career they had worked so tirelessly to build? How could he gamble away his reputation, his earnings, and his future for something that might never offer him the same success?But all of this had been part of Grigory’s plan for quite some time: a plan to build a staircase that would eventually lead him to Liliya.
One day, he would stand before a grand orchestra. With a single movement of his hand, dozens of instruments would come alive, weaving harmonies so magnificent that the entire world might stop to listen.And upon that stage, Liliya would dance. He would transform the orchestra into a meadow of flowers, where Liliya could dance as beautifully as she pleased. Every note would accompany her footsteps, every change of tempo would follow the movement of her body, and every crescendo would carry her towards the very height of splendour.The whole world would witness just how extraordinary she was. And Grigory would be the one to bring her there.Did that not sound terribly beautiful?

NOCTURNE OP. 3 NO. 1

Polina wept, Anatoli raged, and arguments that had once occurred only occasionally became almost inevitable whenever Grigory returned home.They reminded him of every sacrifice they had made. Of the debts they had shouldered, the nights they had spent working longer than they should, and everything they had risked for the sake of his future.“I have already given you money and fame in return. I allowed you to use me because I, too, needed you to achieve my own purposes,” he said, “I have paid off every debt you owed. Everything I have accomplished now is the result of my own hard work. If you wish to demand something from me, should you not be expected to offer something in return?”
Polina and Anatoli fell silent. For the first time, they felt as though they were standing before someone they did not recognise at all. A stranger wearing their son’s face.
They had raised a monster, or so they thought. A heartless monster. An ungrateful wretch. A disgraceful son.They hurled every bitter word they could summon at their only child, as though their accusations might somehow restore the little boy who had once done everything in his power to make them smile.But had they not been the ones to teach him that everything came at a price? That affection must be earned through success, and every sacrifice must be repaid? Grigory had merely put their lessons into practice.And did he care about his mother’s tears? His father’s anger? The countless accusations they threw at him? No. Of course not.He had fulfilled his obligations. He had settled their debts. And now, for the first time in his life, Grigory believed that his life truly belonged to him.Or so he thought.For without realising it, Grigory had merely exchanged one form of devotion for another. Once, he had played music to earn his parents’ smiles. Now, he played for the smile of a woman who might never know just how much he had sacrificed for her.But did love not demand sacrifice? Was something so beautiful not worth pursuing, regardless of the price one had to pay?There was nothing left in this world that mattered to him but Liliya. And that woman would always—and forever—remain both the subject and the object of all his music; of his entire life.