Part 1 

"You're a cheeky piano." 

"I'm Charlotte." 

With both our clothes rugged and messy, we were kicked out of the cafe and was walking in the town streets. 

Charlotte's white blouse had marks and her skirt was rugged from the brawl, same as my white buttoned-up shirt. 

I turned to the right, looking into a mirror that faced outward to passerbys from a shop. 

Charlotte wore the same clothes I found her in, a white blouse with a black skirt. She had sparkling light-brownish long hair with bangs and blue eyes. 

Those same blue eyes were eyeing me up from the mirror. 

I had black hair with no specific style, just grown out. While it was grown out, it wasn't long either. I had the typical brown eyes and wore a buttoned-up shirt with long black trousers. 

Would I consider myself handsome? 

Well, on good days or right after a shower when my hair looks wet, yes. I'd consider myself a demi-god. 

And yeah, I dress like a casual pianist, so what? 

"You look like a casual pianist." 

After dusting herself off, Charlotte tilted her head, looking at me in the eyes through the mirror. 

"Are you a mind reader?" 

"Mmmm~" 

She cheekily ignored my comment and grabbed my arm, inspecting it. 

"You have very muscular forearms." 

She felt up my forearms, caressing her fingers all across through my long-sleeved white sleeves. 

People around us looked at us. 

It felt like we were a couple. 

"A virtue of a pianist." 

"And I like your hand veins." 

She went down to my hands, gently rubbing her own on top of mine. 

"A virtue of a pianist." 

I repeated my phrase. 

Hey hey, if you keep complimenting me like that, I might get too over-confident. 

Then suddenly: 

She began to roll up my sleeves. 

It took me a moment to react, but it was too late. 

She saw. 

She saw it. 

"Those marks on your forearms-" 

On my forearms, were scars, cuts, and-

"-Let's get back to my apartment so we can think about what to do with you." 

I cut Charlotte off before she could question anything. 

Part 2 

Okay. 

What would you do if your musical instrument just started talking? If it suddenly turned into a human figure of the opposite gender? 

Most would probably go on the internet, show it off and make some money with that popularity. 

What the hell should I do? 

We were in my apartment, a small and cozy place that I rented after leaving my parent's house, I made myself a sufficient income working as an orchestral pianist and a Musical/Piano tutor. 

The living room was a small yet spacey room that would only look filled if 5 or more people were in it, but would look nearly empty if only one person sat alone. 

On the tiny dining table only designed for one person, which was me, Charlotte sat on a seat, resting her elbows on it with perfect posture. 

I sat on the piano bench, with no piano in front of it. 

"Are you thinking of turning me in to a music shop to get checked?" 

She had a tiny hint of worry in her expression. 

"No, you're mine, I won't turn you in. Why would I? Well, first off, what exactly are you?" 

"I'm your piano."

"I know that, but, how does a piano become human?" 

"I'm not telling." 

"Huh? 

"I said I'm not telling" 

"...Okay, can you turn back into being a piano?" 

After asking that question, she nodded and stood up, walking toward me, standing right in front of the piano bench, and then transformed back into the piano. 

The transformation wasn't as graphic as I expected, it was at a snap of a finger her body vanished into thin air and the piano appeared. 

My brown, familiar, wooden antique upright piano that I've had for ages since I was a little boy. 

"I see, I see." 

I opened up the fallboard of the piano played some phrases and motifs. 

"What now?" 

I heard Charlotte's voice from the piano. 

After hearing it, I stood up and opened the lid to the piano, looking down. 

Instead, I was just greeted with the familiar scene of the key hammers and shading hollow darkness. 

"It's embarrassing, don't look in there." 

"Alright, you can transform back now." 

Hearing my signal, Charlotte transformed into her human form, sitting cross-legged in front of me. 

I spent the entire evening doing tiny tests, like opening her mouth to see if there was saliva (there was), touching her in different places (she felt human and warm), asking her to play my keyboard (she played skillfully) that I had spare or if I wanted to busk, and other various things to satisfy my curiosity. 

Now, the sun was setting. 

"So, why did you decide to show yourself now?" 

"Because anytime I would try to make fun of you through my piano form, you wouldn't react anymore." 

"Yeah, that's because you've been doing it for 15 years." 

At first, when I first heard of the voices when I was 5 I was very disturbed. And this entire time, I didn't suspect the piano, thinking it was a result of poor thoughts from my own mind. Of course, when I got older, I began to suspect it may have been the neighbours, voices outside or something weird, but in the end, no proof for any of that so I settled and continued practising. 

But there was a time where I stopped playing the piano because of the insulting voice of Charlotte's, but my mother quickly found out and forced me back into that strict schedule, a very strict schedule. 

But in the end, I got used to Charlotte's voices although only gradually though only through a decrescendo style. 

But I did cry in my special corner at times. 

Is she a sadist? 

Taking into account all of the insults (which I would steal to use at other peers when I was younger), it'd be an understatement to call her a sadist. 

She's a demon. 

"Are you a sadist?" 

I asked her that question.

She immediately froze and robotically turned her head toward me with a stiff expression. 

"..." 

"Hey, answer me." 

"..." 

So, not only do I have a girl for a piano, but I've also got a hardcore sadist.