Her Last Bow

Symphony in E Minor, Movement Three

***

I froze in place, astonished to the bone. I couldn't really comprehend what she had just said - partly because of the headache, partly because of the shocking information she'd just developed.

Octavia kept looking at me sternly, never breaking the eye contact. Her face was angry; yet, it was a humid kind of anger, which is slowly born inside one's heart and fades away just as slowly.

Without actually moving an inch, I levitated my pack of cigarettes from the saddlebag and took one of those sticks of death that were to kill me, eventually. In this time and space.

I took a deep puff when I felt somepony's hoof take the cigarette from my mouth. Octavia stood before me with a frown, extinguishing the cigarette. She looked so nice and wonderful that I could hardly keep the urge to kiss her on the spot.

"You won't smoke those horrible things near me," she said firmly, with a crystal shine in her eyes.

I nodded silently, despite my ever-present desire to argue. When she was near, I became more obedient than a foal. And I didn't mind it in the slightest.

"So..." I began nervously. "Would you mind telling me the whole... story?" I wondered carefully, as to not hurt her feelings.

She huffed with an even more intense frown.

"You killed them. The end," she replied before turning away.

I thought she was crying so I took a hesitant step forth to comfort her. When she turned to me again, however, I saw her not in tears but in anger.

"You!" she shouted. "You just had to start selling cellos, didn't you?! You just had to leave my father jobless and penniless! You just had to strip him of the only activity that kept him from drinking! So he got drunk and fell off the cliff - all because of you! So Mother would weep and then drink those Celestia-damned pills and die - all because of you!" she shouted and started beating me with her bare hooves. I just stood, my head lowered, accepting the punishment.

"They left me! They promised never to leave me - but they did! All because of you!" she yelled on the top of her lungs and collapsed onto the floor.

A guard peeked inside the room but shut the door immediately upon catching my disapproving glare.

"All... *sniff* because of... *sniff*" she wept. "You..."

I put a comforting hoof upon her shoulder but she rejected it.

"I...I'm sorry... I didn't know..." I tried to apologise pointlessly.

She raised her head and glared at me, her cheekbones intense - a sign of a defensive stance which can grow into an offensive one.

"Oh, that just changes everything! You didn't know! You never know how many ponies you've hurt throughout your life!" she hissed.

The grey pony rose to her hooves.

"Begone! I will not ask again. Go away and never come back!" she shouted.

I turned around and started walking, without thinking, mechanically.

"All because of you..." she mumbled for the last time.

I stopped.

"All because of you..." I repeated dumbly.

"Huh?"

"All because of you..." I turned round to see her face. She looked slightly surprised. "All because of you... I lost my sleep and appetite. All because of you... I discovered the beauty of night once more. All because of you... I lost interest in anything but you. All because of you... I now believe in angels because one of them is standing right in front of me. All because of you..."

Words were streaming from my mouth, as if it weren't I who was speaking but somepony else instead. If I believed in God, I would've said it was he (or she?) who had put those words in my mouth.

I finished. Octavia lowered her head. A tear crawled down her cheek.

"Begone," she repeated firmly.

I turned towards the door again. As I opened it, I stopped to levitate an object from my saddlebag and put it onto the floor before the earth pony.

The grey cellist looked at the object in astonishment.

"Your bow," I said and left the room, closing the door behind me.

***

Never in my life would I have thought I would come to the cemetery. Yet, here I was, standing before my father's grave. My hooves had brought me here. Nothing more, nothing less.

There were no flowers on the grave. That was reasonable: Father was dead; therefore, not rich or powerful anymore. I was alive; therefore, rich and powerful. I was the one to bring flowers to, in this time and space.

I placed myself before the grave, finally lighting a cigarette. I took a very deep puff and coughed for a few seconds. I let the blue smoke cover the ground beneath me; the ground that now was my father's home. He always hated my smoking. Now he couldn't do anything but witness it, if he could ever witness anything in such a state.

"Hello, father," I said suddenly.

The grave remained silent; only the foul wind answered with a howl.

"Things are going bad, father," I continued, trying to understand my own motivation behind this strange monologue.

"Not with the business, however," I carried on. An owl flew past the grave in royal, majestic silence. "You see..." I took another puff and closed my eyes blissfully. Although cigarettes were most certainly killing me, they brought me the desired relaxation.

"There is one girl... Mare," I corrected myself. "I love her... but I kind of killed her parents." I scratched the back of my head, realising how ridiculous that sounded.

The grave remained silent, as it should've been. A gentle wind tried to howl meekly but perished, stumbling upon the silence.

"Whom am I even talking to!" I yelled in rising anger, jerking up and putting out the cigarette, throwing the end under the large tree that was growing near the grave.

I sighed and walked away.

***

"You can't do that, sir! Please, I beg you, think it over!"

While a visit to my late father wasn't a bright idea, it caused me to make my brain work, and it worked well. I knew exactly what could make Octavia experience at least a little bit of forgiveness towards me.

So I came to my office, at night, only to find two of my managers still at work. I wasn't surprised to see them at work. Working extra meant getting paid extra. Working at night meant getting even more bits. Easy calculations.

Those two were all I needed at the moment.

"Reissue the 'Cellos for Everypony' firm. The new owner will be Miss Octavia Philarmonica, with a Ph. Am I clear?" I said casually the instant I entered the office. I didn't want to lose precious time. Time is money, in this time and space.

The younger manager, a grey unicorn, gasped in fear. He was new and inexperienced, not used to such affairs. He could be forgiven for that, I suppose.

"You can't do that, sir! Please, I beg you, think it over!" he pleaded, his eyes wide in fear. Poor colt really was afraid to lose his job: new owner, new rules. I would be no longer responsible for his well-being. Sometimes I think that most ponies just want somepony else to take the responsibility. They would exchange their freedom for happiness with hooves upraised.

But what did I need? What did I really need? Freedom and happiness don't always go together. I wanted to be happy. I really, honestly wanted to be happy. But I wasn't ready to let my freedom go. Gifting part of my business - not a significant part but still a part, nevertheless - to the mare I loved was a fist step on my difficult route.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I shook my head and smiled indulgently, looking at the colt with sympathy.

"Do it. Now. I'll come for the paper tomorrow," I said and started to walk away. Walking away was becoming commonplace in my life.

"This is madness!" I heard the younger manager hiss to his older colleague, a blue unicorn, as I opened the door.

The latter chuckled.

"No, my friend. This is love."

***

I was trotting along the empty streets, contemplating what I was about to do. I couldn't just go to Octavia and tell her, 'Congratulations! You're the new owner of that one company which led to your parents' death!' The world around me seemed to become a tangled mass, a dark and unwelcoming place. I felt my headache approaching from somewhere deep inside my head. That is, if its source was inside me - a point which I doubted at times. I pondered for a moment and looked up to the sky.

No. I shook my head and carried on. If there were something up there, it was most probably a vile, soulless creature with a sole intention of letting ponies like me prosper and ponies like Octavia's parents die. I wanted a pill. I wanted that Celestia-damned pill so much! But I was far from home. As I passed through a dark and gloomy neighbourhood, I realised I was straying away from home instead, maybe subconsciously, maybe... willingly. I levitated a cigarette and lit it up.

I took a deep puff, thinking the whole situation over. In the morning, I would come for the official paper and bring it to Octavia... and... And a realization struck me. I didn't even know where she lived! And even if I knew, what would I say? What would I do if she just tore the paper into pieces and slammed the door before my muzzle?

"Those are bad for your health, you know?"

I turned round to face the owner of the voice, I saw a familiar blue unicorn, a mask as his cutie mark.

"Ah, Drunkard?" I said, straining myself. I was alone, in an unwelcoming place, and the pony before me was my potential competitor. "Any business here?" I wondered as casually as I could.

The unicorn didn't answer. Instead, he smiled and took a few steps in my direction. I didn't back up.

He levitated a gun and pointed it at me. The gun was small enough to hide in a secret pocket in one's saddlebag.

I was afraid. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my entire life. But I stood still, lest I should lose my face.

"You're a stallion using a mare's gun?" I teased, knowing very well this could lead to my instant death. But my depression had probably reached the point where the very value of my life meant nothing to me.

"You have been charged with bribery, treason and blackmail, performed in order to reach your business goals," the blue-maned stallion said in a bland formal tone, not lowering the gun. I took one last puff of my cigarette; it wasn't alive anymore but I knew better than to drop it.

"You will come with me," Drunkard (if that was his real name) said, motioning with his gun for me to go in the direction of the local prison.

I sighed and finally dropped the cigarette.

I trotted where I was told to go, my head hung low.

My whole life was ruined.

***

I lay on the bed, holding my aching head in my hooves. I had no pills left and I was certainly not in the mood of going to see my doctor right now.

The Sun had just risen and was casting occasional glanced into my house.

My house...

My house wasn't mine anymore, as well as all of my other property. Never in my life would I have thought that such affairs could be dealt with right there in the police department, in a matter of few hours.

The positive points were that I didn't have to go to prison and that I could keel my 'social face' clean. The negative point was that all of my property, including my house, my businesses and money had been confiscated. Forever.

Equestrian law was so strange! I'd rather have spent a few months in prison that to have been basically stripped and thrown out on the streets.

I reached for the pack of cigarettes, only to find I didn't have any left.

I groaned in pain, both physical (headache) and mental.

My mental pain was somewhat justified, for I had to leave this house until midday and I had no sources of income. No money. No property at all.

All of my stashes, all money hidden - it had all been revealed by the Celestia-damned police! That Drunkard was really good not only at working undercover but bribing my closest business partners and employees to tell him everything that I had managed to leave unknown before. Now it was all revealed.

No work, no pay, no business, no money... Those words echoed in my head, causing it to ache even more.

I was completely shocked. I didn't know what to do.

I was forbidden to have businesses in this country, and even if I were allowed to, I still had no experience in establishing businesses, only maintaining them. I realised that I was just a manager by nature, not a leader, like my father.

No matter how hard I tried to make everypony (including myself) think otherwise.

I was amazed at how meaningful my life had become all of a sudden. It seemed that the best cure for depression was unexpected poverty.

I chuckled at such a thought in spite of myself.

I had no options. I couldn't resist them - if I did, they would simply imprison me, and, considering how many other businessponies wanted to claim my property, the judges would be on their side.

A loud knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I rose to my hooves and trotted towards the door, disgruntled.

I opened the door with one swift motion.

"It isn't twelve o'clock y-" I stopped. In front of me stood a grey mare - the most beautiful mare in the world.

Octavia Philarmonica.

She was angry and confused. She was holding a paper in her mouth, which she threw at me immediately. I caught it in my magical grip.

"I hereby declare Octavia Philarmonica-" I began to read but the cellist began her tirade, commanding my attention.

"What is this?" she demanded. "This morning, two ponies come to my house and say I'm the new owner of 'Cellos for Everypony'! What is this?" she raised her voice at me, glaring daggers.

I stood dumbly, staring at the paper, then at the black-maned pony and then back at the paper.

I had reissued the firm.

I had reissued the firm, thus saving it.

It wasn't my property any more; it couldn't be taken away!

I smiled.

"This," I said, waving the paper in the air, "is our ticket to wealth."