Frederic Chopin was the second child and only son in his family. So it was his responsibility to keep the Chopin Family Parlour (a boarding house for boys) in tip top shape. Sometimes, it would be to make tea and bake Polish Biscuits. Often times, it would also mean chopping firewood.
"You know, Chop-Chop. I could always use my magic to make your pain go away."
"I prefer to do things by my own hands... I don't feel comfortable asking for charity... Uuuugh!"
"See, you pulled your back. If I'm not mistaken, you've got a slipped disc in the 5th and 6th Lumbar Section."
"Please do-don't talk to me while I'm focusing on this double-edged hatchet. Guh!"
"Sigh, you should have chosen the Fighter Class, not the Bard."
Frederic Chopin let out a sigh as he took a break from splitting the firewood. Though it was mid-summer, the weather was rather bitter and cold. This house needed more heat to support his parents, older sister, two little sisters, and the other male students who took tenancy in his family parlour. Otherwise, he will be on the bad end of the complaint line.
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Meanwhile, a certain Witch Lady was sitting nearby and watching him as if acting as his guardian angel... For some reason, she was wearing a type of silk and flower-pattern robe that resembled a Kimono from a certain Island Nation in the East.
"Maybe if you stopped sitting on the log pile I'm trying to make, and pick up a hatchet to help me, this would be a lot faster."
"No-no-no-noooo. Darling. This Witch was meant to cast spells, her class features doesn't support physical strength or combat. Look at how thin my delicate arms are! They'll snap if I so much as pick up a carpenter's hammer! And my legs, do you now see how long and slender they are! if I move around too much, they'll get all dirty and wrinkly. And don't forget about these valuable assets that are the pride of woman! What happen if working gets them damaged!"
"Please stop squeezing your chest at me. I don't like it."
"Heeeh... You're a boy, yet you have zero interest in the opposite sex. Are you sure you don't like men?"
"At least I'm not a witch on the run avoiding hunters from executing you on sight without a fair trial."
"..........Sniff....... Uweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh."
"... I'm sorry. I went too far. You can go back inside and drink my father's rum... but... don't touch Jolly (Piano)..."
In the end, a certain Witch Fugitive went back into the warm house, crying like a girl who got dumped by a boy she never met in her life.
"................ Wh...what is this feeling in my chest?.. I-I must write it down!"
Somehow, this feeling evolved into the classical piece known as Fantasie-Impromptu.
"CHOP-CHOP! DON'T USE THE BROKEN HEART OF A NEGLECTED MAIDEN AS THE SOURCE OF YOUR GOD-D@MN INSPIRATION!.....Sob, sob."