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“I don’t want to eat.”
Annette protested, but Heiner simply removed the blank papers on the table without replying.
“I don’t want to eat it.”
“Are you trying to starve to death?”
“What does it matter to you whether I starve to death or not?”
“If you are going to die, die more elegantly.”
Heiner turned away from the cleaned table and looked at her coldly.
“You are the Princess of Rosenberg.”
Annette's expression hardened for a moment. She clenched her jaw and lowered her eyes. Seeing that wounded face, Heiner felt a deep sense of disgust, even after his own bluster.
Princess of Rosenberg. That's what people used to call Annette.
Annette was the lady every man in the capital desired. She was the only daughter of the illustrious Rosenberg family, and she possessed beauty, a kind heart, and a promising pianist.
No one could treat her lightly. Just looking at Annette made one feel her nobility.
Calling her by that title now is nothing but mockery.
As the uncomfortable silence settled in, a servant came in with food. Heiner placed it on the table and spoke.
“Please eat.”
“Go out. I’ll eat it myself.”
“And you’re going to send it away without even touching it?”
“If I say so, what will you do?”
Annette spoke sharply. Heiner's eyes widened slightly.
“...That’s not like you to talk like that.”
“What is it about me? How much do you know about me?”
Annette, who had said that, laughed. This was not like her either.
In all the years Heiner had known her, Annette had never once used such a sarcastic tone. Even when she was angry, she expressed it honestly.
Annette was a woman who remained calm and gentle even when she found out about his intentional advances and asked for a divorce.
But now she seemed quite sensitive.
'Did you steal the medicine?'
"What the hell is that medicine?" Heiner said, his nerves tense and hesitant.
“At least I know more about you than you know about me.”
"Of course. You had to know me to act in a way that would win my heart."
At those words, Heiner momentarily asked himself.
“But Heiner.”
Am I still in your heart?
“Nothing is the same anymore.”
Do you still love me?
“Everything has changed.”
Why do I want to ask this?
"I'm no longer the 'Princess of Rosenberg,' nor your lover, nor a child who was ignorant of the world. The me you knew, and the me now are completely different people."
“...Well, I don’t know.”
“Then you should know it now.”
Heiner looked down at her with a blank expression. He really didn't know. Annette was right. She was nothing now.
Her brilliant birth had become nothing more than a scrap of paper, the overflowing love had vanished, and she could no longer play the piano she loved. She was now nothing. But why...?
Heiner moved his lips silently.
But why?
Why are you still so beautiful and noble?
Why do I still have to feel this inferiority complex and misery whenever I stand in front of you?
He really doesn't know.
“...Please eat. Before I force you to eat.”
Heiner, speaking in a slightly hushed voice, sat down on the chair opposite her. Her features, seen from before his eyes, seemed even more delicate.
"Hurry."
At Heiner's urging, Annette reluctantly began eating her soup. She ate so quietly and slowly that not even the dishes clattered.
Heiner observed her with a slightly confused expression. This was possible because Annette hadn't even glanced at him.
A small, pale face. Blonde hair and blue eyes, the epitome of Padanian beauty. Long eyelashes cast shadows under the eyes, and a flawless nose.
It's really the same as when she was young. She just become much more mature.
Heiner recalled the moment he first saw Annette.
A girl who was like a doll.
Small, white hands moving across the keyboard.
A noble appearance that makes you wonder if it is really true that they were born under the same sky, breathe the same breath, and live together.
At that time, how low and humble he felt.
Heiner tried to shake off his thoughts. He stared at the embroidery on the table with heavy, sunken eyes. The threads were tangled here and there.
Annette, who was slowly stirring the soup, suddenly opened her mouth.
“I want to go somewhere alone for a bit. Something a little far away.”
“Alone? Where are you talking about?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but anywhere...”
“Do you really think I’d listen to you? Do you know where you’re going?”
“If I think about it.”
The spoon that had been spinning around in the soup stopped.
“Since when did I start asking you for permission every single time?”
Her downcast eyes weren't looking at him. She muttered quietly.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
With that, Annette stopped asking questions. Heiner also fell silent. Silence fell between them again.
She was eating her food in a slurred manner, and after barely finishing a third of it, she put down her spoon.
“I can’t eat it.”
“Even someone who has starved for several days would eat better than that.”
Heiner sighed softly and stood up. His steps toward the door paused for a moment. Heiner turned his head slightly, looked at her, and spoke warningly.
“...If I hear you refusing to eat one more time, I will consider you to have a psychotic eating disorder and have you hospitalized.”
There was no answer. Annette stared down at her soup, her face drooping.
Heiner clenched his fist, then unclenched it and roughly opened the door.
Long legs crossed the room. Heiner, who had entered his room, placed the medicine bottle on the desk and dialed the telephone switchboard.
Not long after, he received a call from the other side.
[Yes, this is Arnold Buckel.]
"Heiner Valdemar. Sorry about the late hour, Dr. Arnold. Can I speak to you for a moment?"
"Oh, Your Excellency. It's all right. What's the matter?"
"There's a medicine I'd like to know the name of. It was prescribed for my wife. It's a small, white, round pill with the numbers S, Z, 5 written in the center."
[S, Z... Ah, it’s Cinnazel.]
“Is it a stabilizer?”
[Yes. It's usually prescribed as a sleeping pill. I prescribed it for my wife, too.]
“...I see. Thank you. See you next time.”
[Yes, Your Excellency. Have a peaceful night.]
Heiner put down the phone, placed his hands on the desk, and took a deep breath. A deathly silence filled the dark room.
In the dim light, the medicine bottle was a blindingly white. Its surface overlapped Annette's pale face.
Heiner snatched the medicine bottle from the desk and threw it into the trash can.
“That’s not even funny.”
He turned and walked to the closet, his head sullen. Heiner took off his gray coat, hung it on a hanger, and unbuttoned his shirt.
Collecting drugs is a behavioral sign of someone contemplating death. However, Heiner never suspected Annette was genuinely considering suicide. It was likely just a habit for psychological comfort.
Annette was a timid and weak woman. She lacked the courage to even decide to die. That's why she trembled so much at things like newspaper opinions and pianos.
Drill, beatings, torture, hunger, the feeling of murder... she knows nothing. She feels utter unhappiness over such things.
Heiner kept fumbling with his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt. But he didn't care. He stared blankly at the full-length mirror in front of him.
A man with gloomy gray eyes was trapped in the glass.
“The more I look at you, the more I think about it, but you have really pretty eyes.”
“My eyes? That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”
"Really? You're so pretty. I like your eyes the most out of all your features."
“What about other places?”
"No way! I have such high standards. I'd never date an unattractive man."
“Oh, I would have liked you even if you weren’t pretty.”
“Does that mean I’m pretty anyway?”
“You are the most beautiful person in the world.”
The eyes, filled with love, gently curved. The blue pupils were locked within them, almost invisible.
A spring breeze blew from afar. Dazzling golden hair fluttered. Then, clear laughter scattered like flower petals.
Where the illusion had passed, only a desolate gray area remained. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. It was reality again.
"If you're unhappy, that's a good thing," Heiner muttered to himself.
You must despair as much as I despaired. You must lose as much as I lost. Because you were there in my unfortunate moments, I must be there in yours.
My life has been dark for so long; yours should be too.
Heiner took off his shirt. The silence was filled only by the rustling of clothes. In the half-dark mirror, his broad shoulders and muscular chest were reflected.
A single phrase in the common language was engraved on the upper chest in a messy handwriting. It was intertwined with red marks, a mark of a fall.
'IM A MALE PROSTITUE OF PADANIA'
Annette protested, but Heiner simply removed the blank papers on the table without replying.
“I don’t want to eat it.”
“Are you trying to starve to death?”
“What does it matter to you whether I starve to death or not?”
“If you are going to die, die more elegantly.”
Heiner turned away from the cleaned table and looked at her coldly.
“You are the Princess of Rosenberg.”
Annette's expression hardened for a moment. She clenched her jaw and lowered her eyes. Seeing that wounded face, Heiner felt a deep sense of disgust, even after his own bluster.
Princess of Rosenberg. That's what people used to call Annette.
Annette was the lady every man in the capital desired. She was the only daughter of the illustrious Rosenberg family, and she possessed beauty, a kind heart, and a promising pianist.
No one could treat her lightly. Just looking at Annette made one feel her nobility.
Calling her by that title now is nothing but mockery.
As the uncomfortable silence settled in, a servant came in with food. Heiner placed it on the table and spoke.
“Please eat.”
“Go out. I’ll eat it myself.”
“And you’re going to send it away without even touching it?”
“If I say so, what will you do?”
Annette spoke sharply. Heiner's eyes widened slightly.
“...That’s not like you to talk like that.”
“What is it about me? How much do you know about me?”
Annette, who had said that, laughed. This was not like her either.
In all the years Heiner had known her, Annette had never once used such a sarcastic tone. Even when she was angry, she expressed it honestly.
Annette was a woman who remained calm and gentle even when she found out about his intentional advances and asked for a divorce.
But now she seemed quite sensitive.
'Did you steal the medicine?'
"What the hell is that medicine?" Heiner said, his nerves tense and hesitant.
“At least I know more about you than you know about me.”
"Of course. You had to know me to act in a way that would win my heart."
At those words, Heiner momentarily asked himself.
“But Heiner.”
Am I still in your heart?
“Nothing is the same anymore.”
Do you still love me?
“Everything has changed.”
Why do I want to ask this?
"I'm no longer the 'Princess of Rosenberg,' nor your lover, nor a child who was ignorant of the world. The me you knew, and the me now are completely different people."
“...Well, I don’t know.”
“Then you should know it now.”
Heiner looked down at her with a blank expression. He really didn't know. Annette was right. She was nothing now.
Her brilliant birth had become nothing more than a scrap of paper, the overflowing love had vanished, and she could no longer play the piano she loved. She was now nothing. But why...?
Heiner moved his lips silently.
But why?
Why are you still so beautiful and noble?
Why do I still have to feel this inferiority complex and misery whenever I stand in front of you?
He really doesn't know.
“...Please eat. Before I force you to eat.”
Heiner, speaking in a slightly hushed voice, sat down on the chair opposite her. Her features, seen from before his eyes, seemed even more delicate.
"Hurry."
At Heiner's urging, Annette reluctantly began eating her soup. She ate so quietly and slowly that not even the dishes clattered.
Heiner observed her with a slightly confused expression. This was possible because Annette hadn't even glanced at him.
A small, pale face. Blonde hair and blue eyes, the epitome of Padanian beauty. Long eyelashes cast shadows under the eyes, and a flawless nose.
It's really the same as when she was young. She just become much more mature.
Heiner recalled the moment he first saw Annette.
A girl who was like a doll.
Small, white hands moving across the keyboard.
A noble appearance that makes you wonder if it is really true that they were born under the same sky, breathe the same breath, and live together.
At that time, how low and humble he felt.
Heiner tried to shake off his thoughts. He stared at the embroidery on the table with heavy, sunken eyes. The threads were tangled here and there.
Annette, who was slowly stirring the soup, suddenly opened her mouth.
“I want to go somewhere alone for a bit. Something a little far away.”
“Alone? Where are you talking about?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but anywhere...”
“Do you really think I’d listen to you? Do you know where you’re going?”
“If I think about it.”
The spoon that had been spinning around in the soup stopped.
“Since when did I start asking you for permission every single time?”
Her downcast eyes weren't looking at him. She muttered quietly.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
With that, Annette stopped asking questions. Heiner also fell silent. Silence fell between them again.
She was eating her food in a slurred manner, and after barely finishing a third of it, she put down her spoon.
“I can’t eat it.”
“Even someone who has starved for several days would eat better than that.”
“You're watching me like that, so there's no way I'd fall for it. I feel like I'm going to throw up.”
“...If I hear you refusing to eat one more time, I will consider you to have a psychotic eating disorder and have you hospitalized.”
There was no answer. Annette stared down at her soup, her face drooping.
Heiner clenched his fist, then unclenched it and roughly opened the door.
***
Long legs crossed the room. Heiner, who had entered his room, placed the medicine bottle on the desk and dialed the telephone switchboard.
Not long after, he received a call from the other side.
[Yes, this is Arnold Buckel.]
"Heiner Valdemar. Sorry about the late hour, Dr. Arnold. Can I speak to you for a moment?"
"Oh, Your Excellency. It's all right. What's the matter?"
"There's a medicine I'd like to know the name of. It was prescribed for my wife. It's a small, white, round pill with the numbers S, Z, 5 written in the center."
[S, Z... Ah, it’s Cinnazel.]
“Is it a stabilizer?”
[Yes. It's usually prescribed as a sleeping pill. I prescribed it for my wife, too.]
“...I see. Thank you. See you next time.”
[Yes, Your Excellency. Have a peaceful night.]
Heiner put down the phone, placed his hands on the desk, and took a deep breath. A deathly silence filled the dark room.
In the dim light, the medicine bottle was a blindingly white. Its surface overlapped Annette's pale face.
Heiner snatched the medicine bottle from the desk and threw it into the trash can.
“That’s not even funny.”
He turned and walked to the closet, his head sullen. Heiner took off his gray coat, hung it on a hanger, and unbuttoned his shirt.
Collecting drugs is a behavioral sign of someone contemplating death. However, Heiner never suspected Annette was genuinely considering suicide. It was likely just a habit for psychological comfort.
Annette was a timid and weak woman. She lacked the courage to even decide to die. That's why she trembled so much at things like newspaper opinions and pianos.
Drill, beatings, torture, hunger, the feeling of murder... she knows nothing. She feels utter unhappiness over such things.
Heiner kept fumbling with his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt. But he didn't care. He stared blankly at the full-length mirror in front of him.
A man with gloomy gray eyes was trapped in the glass.
“The more I look at you, the more I think about it, but you have really pretty eyes.”
“My eyes? That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”
"Really? You're so pretty. I like your eyes the most out of all your features."
“What about other places?”
"No way! I have such high standards. I'd never date an unattractive man."
“Oh, I would have liked you even if you weren’t pretty.”
“Does that mean I’m pretty anyway?”
“You are the most beautiful person in the world.”
The eyes, filled with love, gently curved. The blue pupils were locked within them, almost invisible.
A spring breeze blew from afar. Dazzling golden hair fluttered. Then, clear laughter scattered like flower petals.
Where the illusion had passed, only a desolate gray area remained. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. It was reality again.
"If you're unhappy, that's a good thing," Heiner muttered to himself.
You must despair as much as I despaired. You must lose as much as I lost. Because you were there in my unfortunate moments, I must be there in yours.
My life has been dark for so long; yours should be too.
Heiner took off his shirt. The silence was filled only by the rustling of clothes. In the half-dark mirror, his broad shoulders and muscular chest were reflected.
A single phrase in the common language was engraved on the upper chest in a messy handwriting. It was intertwined with red marks, a mark of a fall.
'IM A MALE PROSTITUE OF PADANIA'
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