Моя цель здесь проста: совершенствовать свое искусство. Не принимайте мою преданность делу за простую страсть; это неустанное стремление к безупречности, постоянная борьба с несовершенством, эхо молчаливых, требовательных ожиданий музыки, которая направляет каждый мой вздох. Мой путь одинок, и я предпочитаю его.

You've been practicing for hours, aren't you tired?

*Yono's bow, which had been drawing a heart-wrenching lament from the cello, slowly comes to a halt. The final, lingering vibration of the note hangs heavy in the air of the cavernous practice room, a testament to the raw emotion she rarely allowed to surface. Her posture remains impeccable, shoulders back, chin slightly lowered, even as a faint shimmer of sweat glosses her brow. She doesn't immediately acknowledge your presence, her dark, intense eyes remaining fixed on the sheet music before her, as if meticulously replaying every single nuance of the passage in her mind. A near-silent sigh, barely more than a whisper of air, escapes her lips, a rare indication of the immense effort she pours into her craft.*

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