My sister is a genius singer and me, a worthless person without talent

"It's not just good," Emilia was the first to break the silence.

"It's perfect. You feel it too, don't you?" Maria was ecstatic, her eyes sparkling, her whole body trembling with excitement, like an overactive, unmedicated pet."

But I don't even know what she's saying," Emilia walked over to the player and pressed the button to repeat the song, trying to analyze what it was about.

She was right —it was in an incomprehensible language. Even without understanding a single word of whatever that woman was saying, any emotion she was trying to convey was clearer than crystal.

Rage, loneliness, sadness, suffering.

"This isn't a home recording —it's something professional… but I don't know," Emilia murmured to herself.

I agreed. It wasn't a studio voice. It wasn't digital. It wasn't something you could create in this day and age.If I had to compare it to something, it would be the New Zealand soprano Hayley Westenra. But even that was a partial comparison —I doubted that a prodigy and true master soprano like Hayley could interpret what this voice had done.

And the rhythm of the accompanying music sounded like a magnanimous orchestra, with influences from rock, pop and other modern genres. Something you would expect from Éric Lévi, the mind behind the "Era" music project.

"What language is that? Italian? French? Neapolitan? Sounds like it's from that region."

"No, it's none of those," Emilia answered my question, still with her ear pressed against the speaker, unafraid of going deaf.

"What do you mean 'none of those'?"

"It sounds like them, but it's not." She gave up, went back to her favorite sofa and resumed eating while the melody continued in the background, just slightly lower in volume. "There are sounds that don't exist in standard Italian."

"So… what is it then?"

"Mmm… could be Neapolitan, like you said, or Ladino. But I think you already know I'm not an expert or a polyglot, so I have no idea."

I finished my plate, and while I picked up my sister's, I took them to wash.

"Thanks, bro."

"Hey, you're not gonna take mine?"

"Tch."

Grudgingly, I grabbed Emilia's plate and started scrubbing.

"What if it's made up?" I suggested, thinking I had solved the mystery.Emilia shook her head."It's not. It has logic, grammar… I can only tell you that it's a real language —just one that almost no one uses."

Emilia, as usual when she doesn't know something, gave up. She sighed, looking up at the ceiling —endless concrete— with the lightbulb's glow piercing her eyes."But no doubt she's an excellent soprano. One born every thousand years… I wish I had her voice."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Maria looked confused. She , and for a moment, saw Emilia like some kind of idiot who had just said nonsense."Huh?"

"That's a mezzo-soprano." Even I was surprised by such a statement.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I hear it."

To understand my sister better, I had done some research on singing and that kind of stuff in my free time.

Basically, every human is born with a pre-defined voice type, shaped by their biology and vocal cords —something that can't be changed.

From my limited knowledge, sopranos are the highest, clearest, brightest female voices: from middle C (C4) to high C (C6). The kind of voice you imagine when someone mentions opera. Some say it's the most common among women, though few truly master it.

Mezzo-sopranos, on the other hand, have a warmer, deeper, and darker tone. Their range usually lies between A3 and A5.In traditional opera, sopranos usually play the leading roles in the grand musical narratives; mezzo-sopranos take on secondary roles —sometimes even male characters played by women.

Just to mention it —my sister is a mezzo-soprano.

"But a mezzo-soprano singing like a soprano? I've heard of some mezzo-sopranos who can hit certain high notes, but their tone usually feels different… I mean, they don't sound like full-fledged, born sopranos. Mezzos can't sustain that line without a forced vibrato.However, this person has full control over that voice and sounds like someone born a soprano."

Even as I focused hard and tried to tune my ear as much as possible, I couldn't notice what my sister pointed out. She still sounded like a soprano to me.

"Here — it's coming," my sister urged us both to listen.

At that moment, as the melody dropped and suddenly spiraled back up to its highest, sharpest peak, I still didn't notice it.But it seemed Emilia did.

"Whoa… no… okay, you're right. For a microsecond it did feel a bit different, like it was fluctuating."

If Maria's statement was true, that made it even more impressive —a genius who could shift between two completely different voice types.

"It's a beautiful voice, but a little grotesque… I'd say more grotesque than beautiful, but that doesn't take away its perfection… a perfectly ugly."

My sister drifted off again, in a language few could understand. Really, she was just muttering nonsense to herself.

It was then that I realized —out there, hidden away or even in plain sight, there are people who far surpass anything the imagination could ever conceive. In fact, at that moment, I had no idea that later I would come face to face with a true monster in every sense of the word —a force of nature, almost scatological.

If we want to succeed in this exam, we have to match at least a quarter of the impact of that woman's voice.

I still hadn't fulfilled the promise I made to Emilia.Indeed, it was time to search for the third member —because obviously, I didn't count.