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Heiner looked puzzled, as if he couldn't believe his ears. Annette, clenching her fists on her knees, spoke again.
“You must have found me really funny.”
In this situation, she felt like she should grab his shoulder and string out her complaints, but strangely, she just felt empty.
Annette lowered her head and then lifted it again.
"That's right. If you pretend to love a woman you hate and find repulsive... and she foolishly falls for it and says she loves you too, it's hilarious."
She chuckled softly, as if she were genuinely amused. But the laughter quickly died down. Then, with a smile fading from her face, she continued.
"But if that were the case... You should've told me three years ago. When you'd achieved your goals and no longer needed to deceive me, you should've told me. I didn't even know..."
Her throat tightened. But no tears fell. A tight, choked voice flowed from deep within.
“...I loved you for three more years.”
At those words, Heiner's eyes shook violently. No, perhaps it was her vision that was wavering. Annette quietly lowered her gaze.
For three years, her love has been shattered countless times, making it difficult to recognize its original form.
To fall frequently means to be rebuilt frequently. For three years, Annette fell frequently and was rebuilt just as frequently.
He'll come back. He'll smile again. He'll change his mind again. He'll whisper sweet nothings again. He'll love me again.
How many more times do I have to do this?
"Not yet."
Heiner broke the silence. He asked in a voice that sounded like it was broken.
“Do you still... love me?”
Annette thought his words were mocking or sarcastic. It wasn't in that tone, but at least that's how it sounded to her.
Annette smiled faintly and muttered.
“If I say so, how pathetic would I become?”
The stove quietly radiated warmth. Annette spoke blankly, her eyes fixed on the bedsheets.
"I don't know. What I loved was the way you pretended to love me. The you I loved was all a lie. Then doesn't that mean my love is also a lie?"
His hand, resting on the floor, was tinged with blue veins. Annette thought back to the days when she had buried her cheek in that hand.
“Now, I wonder, what's the use of all that...? My situation is so bad that I can't just keep talking about love.”
Could something that had been rebuilt countless times truly be considered the original? Annette couldn't be sure.
In fact, it didn't seem to matter.
"My heart isn't really useful anyway. Whether I love you or not, it doesn't make any difference."
Annette raised her head again, her face a peaceful one. As if she had no past.
“This will never happen again.”
“...”
“Never again.”
She had a vague idea when she entered the hotel, but it seemed like Heiner was planning to stay here for the night.
The luggage his attendant brought included a change of clothes, shoes, and cosmetics. Annette took a shower with the hot water provided by the staff.
Annette, who had changed clothes and emerged from the bathroom, paused. Heiner, whom she had assumed was staying in another room, was sitting at the table, flipping through a newspaper.
“...Are you staying here too?”
“Why, if I stay somewhere else, will you run away again by yourself?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know.”
Heiner responded curtly and stood up. As he was gathering his clothes and heading to the bathroom, Annette spoke urgently.
“Just a moment, I’ll get some hot water for the staff...”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He turned around again as he was about to close the bathroom door. A cold voice came through the crack in the door.
“Don’t even think about leaving. Unless you want to be caught and dragged out by the guards outside.”
Even after the door closed, Annette stood there, a bit bewildered. His earlier harsh words were just as sharp, and he seemed genuinely angry.
She listened to the sound of water for a moment, then took a step forward. She sat down at the vanity and pressed a towel against her hair.
A pale woman reflected on the glass surface. She seemed devoid of life. Annette rubbed the mirror for no reason, leaving a handprint on her face.
By the time she finished drying her hair and was about to lie down on the bed, Heiner had emerged from the bathroom. Annette curled up under the covers.
After turning off the lights, Heiner turned on a single gas lamp hanging on the table. The yellow light dimly illuminated a corner of the room.
He took an envelope from his suitcase and sat down on a chair. Annette closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but sleep wouldn't come, let alone make her drowsy. The sound of papers turning echoed through the silence.
'Why did you come all the way here when you're so busy?'
Even after hearing the whole story from Heiner, there were many times when she still couldn't understand his actions.
Heiner sometimes acted as if he didn't want to see her at all, and sometimes as if he wanted her to just sit next to him forever.
Either way, their relationship was as precarious as standing on a shallow lake.
He worked until late at night. Annette, wide awake, counted the slightest sounds: the scribbling of a pen, the tracing of a finger across paper, his low breathing...
After quite some time, Heiner turned off the gas lamp and got up. As he walked towards the bed, Annette rolled over and moved to the edge of the bed.
Heiner frowned at him.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?”
“...I can’t sleep.”
Heiner climbed onto the bed with a discontented expression. The mattress felt like it was sinking.
Annette, who had gotten up suddenly, poured water into a glass on the nightstand. Then she bent down and picked up her handbag, which had been placed under the bed. She took out a packet of medicine and was about to open it when he grabbed her wrist.
“What is it?”
“It’s medicine.”
“Sleeping pills? Why?”
“I told you I couldn’t sleep.”
"So you take sleeping pills every time you can't sleep? Do you think that's good for anything?"
"...It’s not that I eat it because I like it.”
Heiner snatched the medicine from her hand with an annoyed sigh. Annette watched him, her hand awkwardly raised, helpless.
She couldn't figure out what part of herself was upsetting him again. What did taking the medication have to do with it?
“Stop eating this kind of stuff. Do you want to become addicted?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Did you do it on your own, and it looks like this?”
Annette turned her head and avoided his eyes.
It was always like this whenever she spoke to Heiner. He disliked everything she did. Perhaps her mere presence was irritating.
‘In the past... it wasn’t like this in the past.’
Even though she knows it's pointless rumination, she keeps thinking about the past.
Their conversations in the past were always filled with love and affection. They occasionally argued, but those were just brief conflicts like those of any other couple.
After an argument, Heiner was always the first to apologize and seek reconciliation. After reconciliation, he would always hug Annette tightly and kiss her forehead or cheek.
'Now that I think about it... I guess he had to maintain a good relationship with me.'
To become a member of the Marquis's inner circle, he would have had to marry her daughter. He would have tried to please her and pretended to love her.
Even though she hadn't eaten anything, her stomach started to churn. Annette rolled over, then turned her head at the sound of Heiner getting up again.
He placed a teapot on the stove and selected the tea leaves provided in the room. The sound of boiling water echoed through the silence. Soon, the room was filled with the faint scent of tea.
"Here."
Heiner held out a teacup. Annette looked up at him, her eyes wide. He urged her on.
“Drink.”
Annette sat up and absentmindedly accepted the teacup. A warm sensation spread across her palm.
“It will help you sleep.”
“...What is it?”
“Chamomile.”
Heiner's voice was still gruff and at first sounded unpleasant.
So, she had no idea what was going on.
Annette sipped her tea, watching him closely. Heiner stared at her with cold eyes, then nodded slightly.
“Please give me the bag.”
“Why the bag?”
“To see.”
So what?
Annette swallowed her words and hesitantly picked up her bag and held it out. Heiner snatched it away and sat down on the edge of the bed. He then took out the belongings in the bag, one by one, and laid them out on the bed.
“Is this a sleeping pill?”
“No, this sleeping pill is...”
“Then what about this?”
“It’s a headache medicine.”
“What is this?”
"Digestive medicine."
Annette, who was studying his hard face, added as if making an excuse.
“Because I keep getting sick.”
“What did the doctor say?”
"Just..."
Annette hesitated for a moment, then answered honestly.
“...I’m being oversensitive.”
Anyway, if Heiner asked Arnold, everything would come out. Out of pride, she didn't want to lie.
Heiner held the packets of medicine for a moment. Then, without saying a word, he looked inside the bag.
That cold face seemed to say, "Well, then, that's right." Annette bit her lower lip.
After taking out most of her belongings, Heiner picked something up from the bottom of her bag. It was a white piece of paper. Annette's face hardened as she realized what it was.
It was Ansgar Stetter's business card.
“You must have found me really funny.”
In this situation, she felt like she should grab his shoulder and string out her complaints, but strangely, she just felt empty.
Annette lowered her head and then lifted it again.
"That's right. If you pretend to love a woman you hate and find repulsive... and she foolishly falls for it and says she loves you too, it's hilarious."
She chuckled softly, as if she were genuinely amused. But the laughter quickly died down. Then, with a smile fading from her face, she continued.
"But if that were the case... You should've told me three years ago. When you'd achieved your goals and no longer needed to deceive me, you should've told me. I didn't even know..."
Her throat tightened. But no tears fell. A tight, choked voice flowed from deep within.
“...I loved you for three more years.”
At those words, Heiner's eyes shook violently. No, perhaps it was her vision that was wavering. Annette quietly lowered her gaze.
For three years, her love has been shattered countless times, making it difficult to recognize its original form.
To fall frequently means to be rebuilt frequently. For three years, Annette fell frequently and was rebuilt just as frequently.
He'll come back. He'll smile again. He'll change his mind again. He'll whisper sweet nothings again. He'll love me again.
How many more times do I have to do this?
"Not yet."
Heiner broke the silence. He asked in a voice that sounded like it was broken.
“Do you still... love me?”
Annette thought his words were mocking or sarcastic. It wasn't in that tone, but at least that's how it sounded to her.
Annette smiled faintly and muttered.
“If I say so, how pathetic would I become?”
The stove quietly radiated warmth. Annette spoke blankly, her eyes fixed on the bedsheets.
"I don't know. What I loved was the way you pretended to love me. The you I loved was all a lie. Then doesn't that mean my love is also a lie?"
His hand, resting on the floor, was tinged with blue veins. Annette thought back to the days when she had buried her cheek in that hand.
“Now, I wonder, what's the use of all that...? My situation is so bad that I can't just keep talking about love.”
Could something that had been rebuilt countless times truly be considered the original? Annette couldn't be sure.
In fact, it didn't seem to matter.
"My heart isn't really useful anyway. Whether I love you or not, it doesn't make any difference."
Annette raised her head again, her face a peaceful one. As if she had no past.
“This will never happen again.”
“...”
“Never again.”
***
She had a vague idea when she entered the hotel, but it seemed like Heiner was planning to stay here for the night.
The luggage his attendant brought included a change of clothes, shoes, and cosmetics. Annette took a shower with the hot water provided by the staff.
Annette, who had changed clothes and emerged from the bathroom, paused. Heiner, whom she had assumed was staying in another room, was sitting at the table, flipping through a newspaper.
“...Are you staying here too?”
“Why, if I stay somewhere else, will you run away again by yourself?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know.”
Heiner responded curtly and stood up. As he was gathering his clothes and heading to the bathroom, Annette spoke urgently.
“Just a moment, I’ll get some hot water for the staff...”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He turned around again as he was about to close the bathroom door. A cold voice came through the crack in the door.
“Don’t even think about leaving. Unless you want to be caught and dragged out by the guards outside.”
Even after the door closed, Annette stood there, a bit bewildered. His earlier harsh words were just as sharp, and he seemed genuinely angry.
She listened to the sound of water for a moment, then took a step forward. She sat down at the vanity and pressed a towel against her hair.
A pale woman reflected on the glass surface. She seemed devoid of life. Annette rubbed the mirror for no reason, leaving a handprint on her face.
By the time she finished drying her hair and was about to lie down on the bed, Heiner had emerged from the bathroom. Annette curled up under the covers.
After turning off the lights, Heiner turned on a single gas lamp hanging on the table. The yellow light dimly illuminated a corner of the room.
He took an envelope from his suitcase and sat down on a chair. Annette closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but sleep wouldn't come, let alone make her drowsy. The sound of papers turning echoed through the silence.
'Why did you come all the way here when you're so busy?'
Even after hearing the whole story from Heiner, there were many times when she still couldn't understand his actions.
Heiner sometimes acted as if he didn't want to see her at all, and sometimes as if he wanted her to just sit next to him forever.
Either way, their relationship was as precarious as standing on a shallow lake.
He worked until late at night. Annette, wide awake, counted the slightest sounds: the scribbling of a pen, the tracing of a finger across paper, his low breathing...
After quite some time, Heiner turned off the gas lamp and got up. As he walked towards the bed, Annette rolled over and moved to the edge of the bed.
Heiner frowned at him.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?”
“...I can’t sleep.”
Heiner climbed onto the bed with a discontented expression. The mattress felt like it was sinking.
Annette, who had gotten up suddenly, poured water into a glass on the nightstand. Then she bent down and picked up her handbag, which had been placed under the bed. She took out a packet of medicine and was about to open it when he grabbed her wrist.
“What is it?”
“It’s medicine.”
“Sleeping pills? Why?”
“I told you I couldn’t sleep.”
"So you take sleeping pills every time you can't sleep? Do you think that's good for anything?"
"...It’s not that I eat it because I like it.”
Heiner snatched the medicine from her hand with an annoyed sigh. Annette watched him, her hand awkwardly raised, helpless.
She couldn't figure out what part of herself was upsetting him again. What did taking the medication have to do with it?
“Stop eating this kind of stuff. Do you want to become addicted?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Did you do it on your own, and it looks like this?”
Annette turned her head and avoided his eyes.
It was always like this whenever she spoke to Heiner. He disliked everything she did. Perhaps her mere presence was irritating.
‘In the past... it wasn’t like this in the past.’
Even though she knows it's pointless rumination, she keeps thinking about the past.
Their conversations in the past were always filled with love and affection. They occasionally argued, but those were just brief conflicts like those of any other couple.
After an argument, Heiner was always the first to apologize and seek reconciliation. After reconciliation, he would always hug Annette tightly and kiss her forehead or cheek.
'Now that I think about it... I guess he had to maintain a good relationship with me.'
To become a member of the Marquis's inner circle, he would have had to marry her daughter. He would have tried to please her and pretended to love her.
Even though she hadn't eaten anything, her stomach started to churn. Annette rolled over, then turned her head at the sound of Heiner getting up again.
He placed a teapot on the stove and selected the tea leaves provided in the room. The sound of boiling water echoed through the silence. Soon, the room was filled with the faint scent of tea.
"Here."
Heiner held out a teacup. Annette looked up at him, her eyes wide. He urged her on.
“Drink.”
Annette sat up and absentmindedly accepted the teacup. A warm sensation spread across her palm.
“It will help you sleep.”
“...What is it?”
“Chamomile.”
Heiner's voice was still gruff and at first sounded unpleasant.
So, she had no idea what was going on.
Annette sipped her tea, watching him closely. Heiner stared at her with cold eyes, then nodded slightly.
“Please give me the bag.”
“Why the bag?”
“To see.”
So what?
Annette swallowed her words and hesitantly picked up her bag and held it out. Heiner snatched it away and sat down on the edge of the bed. He then took out the belongings in the bag, one by one, and laid them out on the bed.
“Is this a sleeping pill?”
“No, this sleeping pill is...”
“Then what about this?”
“It’s a headache medicine.”
“What is this?”
"Digestive medicine."
Annette, who was studying his hard face, added as if making an excuse.
“Because I keep getting sick.”
“What did the doctor say?”
"Just..."
Annette hesitated for a moment, then answered honestly.
“...I’m being oversensitive.”
Anyway, if Heiner asked Arnold, everything would come out. Out of pride, she didn't want to lie.
Heiner held the packets of medicine for a moment. Then, without saying a word, he looked inside the bag.
That cold face seemed to say, "Well, then, that's right." Annette bit her lower lip.
After taking out most of her belongings, Heiner picked something up from the bottom of her bag. It was a white piece of paper. Annette's face hardened as she realized what it was.
It was Ansgar Stetter's business card.
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