Disclaimer: The Vocaloids featured in this story obviously do not belong to me. They belong to their rightful companies which includes Zero-G.

Note: To anyone who was able to read through the first part...I congratulate you for making it this far. I hope the first chapter wasn't too long or boring, by the way. If anyone is worried about how long this whole story is going to be, I assure you that there's only one more chapter after this. I was thinking about doing a similar story with Bruno and Clara around February or March, I'm not sure though.

Anyway, thank you for reading!

One of the sets of double-doors suddenly opened. The figure slowly removed her heavy-set coat as she trekked across the floor, a sense of elegance in the air around her. There were a handful of workers and fellow singers who greeted the woman while she passed them.

"Why, Miss Primrose! You look lovely as usual this morning!"
"Thank you, madam. You look stunning also…"

"Are you ready to deal with those brats again, Miss Primrose?" asked one of the head owners of the school with a grin on his aging face.

"Now now, not all of them are like that at all!" Primrose responded, waving away the "brat" comment. "Sure, some of them may come off as selfish or immature now, but that doesn't mean they won't mature over time…" she grabbed the knobs of another set of doors, ones which led to the performance hall, and added, "I'm certain of it."

Primrose let herself in.

After passing the many seats of the establishment, the woman — who was far past her twenties — made her way up the five steps and to the centre of the stage. Gently, she let the jacket down onto the spot beside her right foot. She was alright with getting it a bit dirty, though it didn't seem to fit etiquette to do such a thing in the first place.

Well, time to warm up. Perhaps something soothing and emotional…

Ah yes, "Con te Partirὸ".

Primrose took a breath and began to sing gently. If one were to describe the innocence of her voice while she sang through the first verse; they would say it made their heart aflutter and even stir a chill to go down the spine. Such a beautiful voice for a beautiful woman such as Bianchi! A few kids — in their teens — slowly came into the room and took a seat as she continued on. At the end of the verse, another student came into the room while he removed his short cloak's hood. He carefully slid through a few seats and sat in a middle chair, hoping it didn't creak.

She prepared herself as she struck a specifically higher part of the chorus. Oh, such elegance! Not a crack was heard from the opera singer, for she was able to conquer it with ease.

Primrose stopped herself before she could start singing the second half of the song. Her eyes had focused above, the ceiling to be precise, so she set them back in place to see some of her students — two girls and three boys — sitting while they clapped for her. A smile made its way to Primrose. "Aww, grazie…" she thanked them, holding in a laugh, "also, good morning to all of you!"

Today was like any other day for Primrose, her students, and Teatro Tammaro.

"I'll meet you in the usual studio room while we wait for everyone else, okay? I just need to grab my things," she told the group.

Whilst watching the students slowly heading off to the flight of stairs outside the performance hall, her eyes focused on the young man in the short cloak. "Oh, and," she called out, "Mister Antonello! Your hair looks rather nice long like that~…"

The student she specifically called turned to look at her, repressing the embarrassed blush creeping onto his cheeks. "It isn't long at all, Madam Bianchi."

"The ends are past your shoulders, dear. They're considered 'long' or at least 'shoulder-length' by most standards," she replied. Primrose knelt down to pick up her jacket, then she removed herself from the stage. Not surprisingly, Antonello stood at the entrance, waiting for her again. "By the way, you look a bit sleepy. If you want to, I can see if we can get some coffee delivered to the room during our lunch."

"No thank you."
"Hm, well…I'll order some anyway. For the whole class."

Antonello Bellomi was one of Primrose's favourite students. He would blush at compliments, and his attitude reflected more like a cat that liked affection but pretended not to show it. He could be serious during class sessions though not over-the-top. Although he was around seventeen years of age, Antonello could pass as fifteen with his wide innocent eyes and his still-round jawline. Perhaps he was simply a late-bloomer in the physical department since his voice had already reached its maturity.

"I'm guessing you wish to escort me to our room again," Primrose said with a smile. "Thank you."

"I was just waiting for you. It's not like I'm making sure you get to the room as soon as possible…"

"Mm-hm, I see."

Side by side, the young teacher and her student left the room with conversation on mostly Primrose's part.

"So, how was your weekend, Antonello?" she asked.
"Usual," he replied.

"I don't think I've ever asked you this, but…how do you like the class so far? It'll be two months today that you've been my student."

"You're asking me for feedback?"

She nodded, beaming a smile to him as they began their trip up the flight of stairs. "Of course! I've asked the other students on Friday, but you left early because you weren't feeling well."

Primrose saw Antonello's eyes glance away from her for a moment, then he answered her question, "I like it."

"I'm glad to hear that!" Her smile widened upon hearing the response. "You know, I think you have such a lovely voice when you sing. So mature, so deep, and rather…"

"Rather what?" the teenager raised a brow at her.

"Well…handsome!"

As expected, Antonello's face turned redder than a tomato at the word. As she giggled out an "aww", she placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"You know, Antonello…I've thought of a song you would sound grand with over the weekend."

"Seriously, Madam Bianchi?"

"Oh come on, you'll enjoy it, I swear! It isn't as though I'm only doing this to you, by the way," she explained herself to him as they finally reached the door to their studio, a room placed right beside the stairs which then stretched further down the hall, "the owners of the school thought I should hold a little performance with my students in March to show them how they've been doing. Once it was decided, I've been choosing songs I think will fit for each of you!"

Antonello frowned, although Primrose didn't take notice of it since she went on ahead inside. He didn't fully understand why Primrose liked him so much, neither could he see how she thought those things about him.

"Oh, everyone else arrived already? Funny, I didn't see you guys unless you took another route or went straight up here once you came inside the building…"

Antonello Bellomi, the only child of a small Italian family. He lived less than ten minutes away from Tammaro and was usually dropped off by his mother. It was his parents who thought he would be a great opera singer one day, and they were the ones who enrolled him two months ago. His confidence level was a bit below average, so his parents hoped this class could assist it…especially with such a bright, helpful teacher such as Madam Primrose Bianchi. No no, she didn't say that every thing the students did was good, but she did not belittle them like other teachers in the arts were notorious for sometimes.

His time under Primrose's wings have been rather nice, although he was embarrassed to admit it. Time and time again, she praised his voice, calling him a "natural". Was he really? A few of the other people who worked here and fellow classmates agreed with Primrose's words, so perhaps she was right…

"Antonello," Primrose's voice called from within the room, "come on, it's time for class!"

"Coming," he immediately replied, then he went in and shut the door behind him. For the next following hour or two, Primrose talking once in a while and singing from the students could be heard. Just another day at Teatro Tammaro.

"Odd, there's no one inside of here…" Prima commented after — rather impolitely of her — opening a door located on the second floor. She stepped into the empty room, her feet making a small echo with every step. "Maybe there aren't any classes being held today…"

Tonio huffed with a hint of annoyance…then again, most of the things he has done were out of annoyance. This was silly, but he was willing to give Prima as many chances as possible to convince him that she was Primrose and he was Antonello at one point in their life. "Prima…"

"Look around until you see something that strikes your fancy for now, dear."

Prima still had that odd sensation running through her body and mind. The dream she had continued to play on while her eyes scanned the room.

"Bye, Madam Primrose!"
"See you tomorrow, Miss Emily, my wonderful little soprano!"

Antonello threw on his cloak while Primrose waved to a short tanned girl with French braids as she ran off. It was now the end of the day. Most of the students left as soon as possible, but Antonello had to wait until his mother was off work to pick him up…he was alright with that.

…not…like he would tell Primrose this either.

"Waiting for your mom again?" she turned to ask Antonello.

He responded, "Yeah."

"How about the two of us relax in the lobby with some drinks? Would you like to do that instead of staying up here?"

Glancing only once to the small window where he usually watched for his ride to appear, Antonello nodded. "Sure…I guess."

Moments later, Antonello took a seat on a bench located within the lobby of the building.

"Let's see…I could grab some hot chocolate, coffee, a carbonated drink, wine…or," Primrose offered, "I could make a martini. The kitchen's open, so I can get the ingredients."

A martini? That was his mom's favourite drink, but he never really bothered to try one for himself and due to the fact he wasn't sure his parents didn't want him drinking anything alcoholic for whatever reason.

"A…martini."
"Alright! I'll be right back, hopefully I won't take long…"

Primrose sat her three books and jacket beside the teenager, and then she scampered off to retrieve the drinks. This was perfect time to bond with a student of hers, especially with this one. She wouldn't really call him a "loner" or a person who hates socialising, but he did seem to be by himself for a majority of the time. While she spoke to him, she took notice of how he stammered or avoided eye contact whenever she talked about him. Was he suffering from a crush? No, it didn't appear to be something like that…

"Oh!" she thought out loud, now in the kitchen as she poured Antontello's drink into a plastic cup. "He's shy! That has to be it!"

Meanwhile, Antonello picked up one of Primrose's books to see what it was. Of course, a collection of classic opera songs. He recognised most of the songs since his teacher was so eager to introduce them to the class. Ah, there was the one Primrose sung as her "warm-up song" today.

Antonello's fingers traced the page where that specific song displayed itself. A soothing song with interesting lyrics. He licked his lips which had dried over time. His eyes glanced back and forth to see if there were any other people around. During this time of the day — four in the evening — only a handful of people remained at the house. Besides the early morning, five in the evening and onwards was when people pooled here for performances. The people who were present now could've been elsewhere.

His index finger went to a few lines of the song; and, slowly, he sung the verse under his breath. He sounded gentle - though not in a similar manner such as Primrose - with a vulnerable tone in his voice. He felt himself getting absorbed into the words, the meaning behind them, his mind heard the music accompany him. Soon, he was lost within the song. As for that one high note inside the chorus, the tenor definitely was able to face it head-on.

Prima had taken a sip of her wine as she exited the small kitchen down the right hall when she almost choked on the drink due to hearing Antonello suddenly singing "Con te Partirὸ". She stopped walking and listened on. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful…

She smiled, then took a sip of the wine in her left hand.

She knew Antonello was a natural, she could feel it…and this was further proof. She noticed how he would roll his 'r's once in a while during the bit of the song; but that was not a problem at all, for Primrose believed that was a part of his personality whenever he sung. This fact wasn't only for the time being — goodness, no! — but for the other times he needed to sing during classes within these two months. She had faith that he would go far. Perhaps they could be partners someday…

Antonello stopped after singing the first chorus, that was when Primrose came back with their drinks and he sat up straight then placed the book back on the pile.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting, Mister Antontello," she said to him, handing him his martini.

As Primrose sat down on the other side of the books and jacket, Antonello sniffed the drink. He held the brim to his lips, probably coming off as hesitant, then he finally took two sips. Bitter, it was…but it still tasted nice to him.

"By the way," Primrose held in a laugh, telling the boy, "you sounded very nice singing while I was getting our drinks!"

And down went the rest of the drink as Antonello tilted his head back to hide the embarrassment of being heard by Primrose. What a nosy teacher…

Soon enough, a familiar white car pulled up to the front of the opera house. As Primrose watched Antonello get into the back seat from the entrance, she waved, bidding him farewell. Primrose gazed down to her drink she had yet to finish, then to her diamond watch on her right wrist. She had enough time to drink this without worrying about feeling tipsy while performing tonight. She downed the wine in a rather "unladylike manner" and went back inside.

Another day of class soon came and went the blink of an eye. Other days like that continued onwards until another month was here.

"Madam Bianchi— or rather…Madam Primrose?"

After waving a student adieu, Primrose turned to look at Antonello, somewhat surprised that he approached her. "Yes?"

"Could I ask you something?"
"Of course you can! What is it?"

Antontello adjusted his cloak, and then questioned, "Is opera considered a dead musical genre?"

She frowned and scrunched a brow. "What?"

He averted her gaze as he tried explaining to her, "I've been told that focusing on a musical genre that leaves 'little to no impact' nowadays is pointless and a waste of time. So, what do you think…?"

Primrose mentally cringed at that. How dare they insult opera!? And how dare they tell Antonello such a thing to begin with! "Well…" she started, "I don't think that's true at all. Opera has been around for quite some time, and it has been influential, though not as much as it once was."

She carefully reached out and ruffled the teen's hair, smiling at him as she did so.

"I was told that a few times, too…but, opera is practically my life! I love the music, the drama, the whole works! There has been others who were told the same thing, possibly…and they ignored those words because they wanted to enjoy opera for themselves! Whether it was by participating or supporting it any other way," she said. Smiling gently, Primrose asked, "Do you like opera? You don't necessarily have to love it a lot like me, just to let you know~…"

Attempting to ignore the smile his teacher gave him and the blush creeping to his cheeks, Antonello slowly responded, "I…do, actually. It's one of the only things I can enjoy."

"Well, if it's something you love…you should do it. I believe in you! I'm fairly certain that your mom and dad feel the same way also, right?"

"They do, yeah…"
"Try not to worry about it, okay?"
"…I'll…erm, try not to."

"Good!" Primrose pat his shoulder. "Any other questions, dear?"

He shook his head as the blush faded.

"Alright. How about we go downstairs if you're waiting for you ride? We can have a drink together as usual!"
"Okay."

Together, they left the room and down the flight of stairs to their "hang-out" in the lobby. Once she grabbed their drinks and joined Antonello on the bench, she told him to dress his best tomorrow since tomorrow was "Class Photo Day" which Antonello immediately frowned from being told that. He wasn't a fan at getting his picture taken and never had been. Instead of being rude and saying there was no way he was going to participate, Antonello simply drunk his martini in silence.

"You know, Antonello…?" Primrose spoke up, "I think that was the first time you've ever called me by my name." She broke into a bright smile, now asking, "Does that mean you're starting to warm up to me?"

'I have been warming up to you,' he thought, but instead said out loud, "Yeah, I guess it does."

"I'm glad to hear that! If you want to, you can drop the 'madam' title too."

"I'll…keep that in mind."

The following day arrived smoothly.

The picture was to be taken in the studio room, against one of the soft yellow-coloured walls. Standing within the group of her fifteen students, Primrose made certain she was on the left of Antonello, who was busy glancing away while he kept a hand on the hem of his cloak. He felt embarrassed, especially with his teacher's hand on his shoulder.

"Aw, you don't have to look like that, dear…" she whispered playfully to him seconds before the flash of the camera nearly blinded everyone.

Days later, the lobby's photo wall was graced with the perfect photograph of Madam Primrose Bianchi and her students who would soon become rising stars.

Unfortunately, that would not come to be.

_To be concluded._