As he sat down holding the cittern, the smile on his face became even more pronounced, and he even shrugged his shoulders slightly.
Triss, Geralt, and the others familiar with Karl saw him in this state and were puzzled.
Karl rarely showed such obvious, mischievous happiness – what was he thinking?
Karl lowered his head, his fingers gently stroking the strings, quickly trying to pluck a few notes to get used to the instrument.
His movements were initially a bit awkward, but after just a few adjustments of the syllables,
the rhythm of his plucking suddenly changed, becoming smooth and emotional, as if the instrument had already connected with his heart.
He slightly closed his eyes, as if remembering something, his fingers gently brushed over the strings before the first full note could sound.
A calm, slightly melancholic, but deeply emotional "prelude" spread out, drawing everyone's attention.
Triss, Iris, and even Yennefer, who originally had other thoughts, couldn't help but sit up straight, their gazes fixed on him.
Karl opened his eyes, his gaze not focused on any one person in particular, but seeming to encompass everyone.
His fingertips began to pluck, and the pure, slightly husky sound of the cittern began to flow like a stream, merging with his deep, magnetic voice.
"Gently stroked my scars with your fingers, fate intertwined, despising the starlight."
"Open the wound, try to heal it until it becomes the turning point of fate."
"At dawn you flee from my dreams, bitter as currant, sweet as clove..."
The lyrics were like magical whispers, striking directly at the listener's heart.
These images – scars, fate, healing, dreams, lilac, and currant... were no longer metaphors, but a clear and blatant revelation.
The surprise on Yennefer's face grew stronger, mixed with deep emotion. She naturally recognized the phrase "sweet as clove, bitter as currant."
It was her favorite perfume, and also the clues Geralt had used many times to describe and find her. This poem... Could it be...?
Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't help but look at Geralt.
At that moment, Geralt was also moved, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Karl.
But from the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but secretly glance at Yennefer, nervously watching every subtle change in her expression.
Karl continued to play and sing, the melody low and melodious, telling stories of searching, struggle, doubt, and bonds that cannot be broken.
"...Are you my fate, or just the god of love who unexpectedly took the initiative?"
"When I speak my wish, did you fall in love with me against your will?"
When he reached these two lines, Karl's voice rose slightly, carrying a soulful question.
Yennefer was struck by these two lines, and the calm she tried to pretend on her face was completely shattered.
Her brows involuntarily furrowed, and her gaze became extremely complex.
It seemed she was listening to poetry, but her thoughts had clearly drifted, immersed in the emotions expressed in the lyrics, which perfectly mirrored her complicated relationship with Geralt.
Fate? Or was it just a chance encounter? Were these the feelings Geralt caused after the djinn made a wish?
Were Geralt's feelings for her truly sincere, influenced by magic, or... an act against his own will?
These questions were like poisonous ivy, lingering in her heart for years, never truly answered.
At this moment, this sudden poem so boldly revealed them.
She instinctively looked at Geralt again, her eyes full of search, anxiety, and a deep vulnerability that even she herself didn't notice.
Geralt was deeply moved by these two lines.
He felt the heavy, emotionally piercing gaze of Yennefer, a look that seemed to burn right through him.
He wanted to immediately turn his head, look her in the eyes, and say something.
But deep inside remain the same doubts and uncertainty about the authenticity of his own emotions.
And the fear of breaking the status quo and the possible consequences bound him like shackles.
His hand on his knee clenched slightly, but he still didn't dare to fully turn away, facing Yennefer's complex gaze head-on.
He could only look at Karl even more intently, as if the singer could give him an answer.
Karl seemed completely unaware of the turbulent undercurrents between them – or rather, that was exactly what he expected.
He plucked his fingers, and the music gradually became calming and lingering, bringing the poem to a pause.
The last note slowly dissolved into the warm air, and Karl looked up.
He noticed that the crowd was almost completely immersed in the emotional atmosphere created by the poem, looking utterly absorbed in their thoughts.
Triss and Iris had already, at some point, blushed, looking at Karl with deep tenderness.
Their eyes still glistened with tears, clearly moved by the deep, persistent, and uncertain love in the lyrics, as if they could truly empathize with them.
Keira quietly turned away, her fingers involuntarily intertwined, a look of obvious jealousy and sadness appearing on her face.
The deep emotional connection she envied in the poems was something she had never truly wanted but never truly possessed.
Although Hen, Mousesack, and Eist also showed signs of emotion, the first two had grown with time and seen the world well.
They quickly recovered from the emotional turmoil, their eyes full of admiration and understanding.
They began to applaud slowly and powerfully.
Eist clapped his hands, his stern face showing approval.
Ciri also smiled, imitating the adults, clapping her hands and clearly shouting: "So good, Karl!"
But her face showed only pure appreciation and happiness, clearly given her age and experience.
She still couldn't fully understand the complex entanglements of fate, love, and doubt in the lyrics.
Geralt's gaze remained complex, as if he was still caught in the internal storm caused by the lyrics.
He applauded slowly, again and again, heavier and more decisively than anyone else.
As if hoping to use this movement to dispel the fog in his heart, or... to hold onto a certain resolve.
Karl took the lute, stood up, and bowed slightly to the crowd, accepting the applause with different meanings.
The applause gradually subsided, people began to whisper, admiring Karl's moving poetry, and the atmosphere became lively again.
But one person was in a different state. Yennefer still sat there, slightly lowering her head, her fingers unconsciously stroking the hem of her clothes.
Her expression was one of unprecedented reflection, inner struggle, and self-doubt; she did not join the conversation, as if she had created her own small world.
Seeing this, everyone silently refrained from disturbing her.
Triss cast Karl a knowing but slightly teasing glance, as if saying, "You really are something else."
Then she pulled Iris, who was still a bit dazed, and together with Keira, Hen, and the others, they whispered quietly and naturally dispersed.