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Early in the morning, Charlize Theron woke up and realized she couldn't find the man who had been beside her pillow.
That didn't make her panic.
She knew that within seven steps—
Well… seven steps was probably too short.
In any case, he would definitely be sowhere nearby.
The only question was where he might suddenly appear from to scare her again.
After being startled a few tis already, she had more or less developed immunity.
After finishing her morning routine in the guest room's bathroom and getting dressed, Charlize stepped out into the hallway to look for her boyfriend.
A gentle piano lody drifted through the corridor.
Without thinking much about it, she followed the sound instinctively.
---
Inside the music room, the person playing the piano was indeed Henry.
Givenchy and Philippe Venet sat quietly on a vintage sofa nearby, listening attentively.
From the logo on the front of the grand piano, Charlize recognized the instrunt.
It was a Steinway.
Among handmade pianos, Steinway instrunts were world-renowned for reaching the pinnacle in tone, touch, and aesthetic craftsmanship.
But as for the piece Henry was playing—
Charlize couldn't identify it.
It only sounded familiar.
Trying not to disturb anyone, she quietly found a seat and sat down.
She knew Henry could play musical instrunts.
When they talked about film scores, he could analyze them quite well.
But she had never heard him play guitar, and the only music she had heard from him before was electronic music he produced on computers.
So this mont was rare.
She simply listened quietly to her boyfriend's performance.
The music sounded beautiful.
Yet it didn't feel imrsive.
Henry looked handso while concentrating, but he lacked the confident aura typical of perforrs.
If this man weren't Henry Brown, Charlize might have felt uncomfortable sitting there.
Sothing about the scene felt out of place.
It reminded her of how he handled machines—
precisely manipulating them so that they perford exact movents.
Accurate.
Consistent.
But sowhat chanical.
---
When the piece ended, the two n applauded politely.
They had long noticed Charlize had joined their little morning concert.
Out of respect, however, they had not interrupted the perforr.
Now that the performance was over, Givenchy turned and asked:
"Miss Theron, what do you think of Henry's performance?"
Charlize replied politely,
"Mr. Givenchy, please don't call Miss Theron. Just call Charlize."
"Then please drop the 'Mr.' as well," Givenchy said with a smile.
"Just Givenchy."
"Philippe," his husband added.
Givenchy returned to his question.
"So, Charlize—how did Henry's music feel to you?"
Charlize hesitated.
"Um… very clean? Very precise?"
Givenchy nodded.
"I believe your impression is similar to mine."
"But if I were to describe it more precisely—"
He turned back toward Henry, who still sat on the piano bench.
"It is extrely skillful, but lacking in passion."
Philippe nodded in agreent.
"Liszt's Liebesträu No. 3 is supposed to be a piece about dreams of love."
"It should flow with a sense of magic and romance, sothing that captures the listener's heart."
"But Henry, your interpretation followed the sheet music perfectly, almost chanically."
"No passion."
"Do you know that this piano piece originates from a poem?"
Henry responded imdiately.
In German, he recited a line from a poem by Ferdinand Freiligrath:
> "O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst,
O lieb, so lang du lieben magst..."
Then he repeated the verse again in English, so Charlize could understand.
Philippe laughed and said to Givenchy:
"You see? Such a clever young man."
"Of course he knows the poem."
Then he turned back to Henry and spoke frankly.
"But you perford it coldly."
Henry shrugged and joked:
"Which proves that choosing not to beco a pianist was probably a wise decision."
---
Henry was well aware that sothing about his psychology was… unusual.
But as the saying goes:
Doctors rarely heal themselves.
And he certainly had no intention of visiting a psychologist.
What if he accidentally t soone like Hannibal Lecter?
If that man beca curious about the taste of Kryptonian flesh, what would Henry do?
In Henry's view, it wasn't really a ntal disorder.
It was more like a side effect of his superbrain.
When a person analyzed everything too clearly, it beca easy to fall into a form of chanical rationality.
Since that explanation sounded reasonable enough, Henry stopped worrying about it.
---
But Charlize wasn't going to stand by while her boyfriend was criticized.
She walked over to the piano bench and sat down beside him, sharing half the seat.
Her fingers lightly touched the keys of the expensive instrunt.
"Don't you have sothing more lively to play?"
She looked at him with bright, watery eyes.
Those deep eyes felt almost hypnotic.
Before Henry found himself getting lost in them, he turned his head away and placed his hands on the keys again.
"Sothing lively, huh?"
"How about the Finnish polka 'Ievan Polkka'?"
In the future, this song would beco world-famous as the Leek Spin Song.
As Henry played, he began singing in Finnish.
When the music reached the latter half of the fifth section and the entire sixth section, the rapid, playful improvisational chanting made everyone smile.
Even Henry, singing and playing at the sa ti, couldn't help glancing at Charlize beside him.
Charlize initially tried to follow the beat, lightly swaying her head left and right.
But the tempo beca too fast.
She quickly lost track of the rhythm and burst out laughing.
---
When the song ended, the two n behind them applauded enthusiastically.
"Bravo!"
Givenchy even walked over excitedly.
"I originally thought your music sounded like a machine performing."
"But apparently you need your muse beside you."
"With her here, it's like soone flipped a switch."
"Only then does your passion appear."
Henry looked surprised.
"Is the difference really that big?"
He glanced at Charlize beside him.
He had never noticed this side of himself.
Charlize herself was stunned by the effect she seed to have—and her face flushed red.
The two older n laughed heartily.
---
At that mont, J.J. Harris finally arrived.
She had only heard the laughter.
"What's everyone so happy about?"
The two n excitedly summarized what had just happened.
J.J. looked at Henry with surprise.
"Henry, I didn't know you could play piano too."
"What can't you do?"
Henry thought for a mont.
"Well…"
"If I don't know sothing, then I can't do it."
"That's pretty normal, right?"
Such an absurdly arrogant humblebrag earned him a round of eye-rolls from everyone present.
Just then, Givenchy's butler stepped forward politely.
"Master, honored guests."
"Breakfast is ready."
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