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Throughout his life, Heiner would look back on that moment countless times.
Why on earth did he run away then? He didn't even sneak into the garden; he could have just made an excuse that he'd stumbled upon it while taking a walk.
He wished he had at least spoken to him, saying that his performance was really good.
At the time, Heiner didn't know who the girl was. If he'd thought a little deeper, he might have guessed, but in his panic, he just ran away.
But perhaps, deep in his heart, he had already vaguely recognized it from the moment he saw that white, shining little body.
That kid is different from me.
Perhaps that's why he wasn't all that surprised when he learned the girl's true identity and that she was a promising pianist. In fact, he thought it was only natural.
It would have been strange if a girl who looked so noble and refined had such a lowly status.
While he was struggling to get a small music box, the girl would have learned all sorts of culture, including music, from professional teachers.
While he was thinking about how to fill his hungry stomach today or tomorrow, the child would have eaten her fill of warm, soft food.
While he was struggling to avoid being hit right away, she must have been dreaming of a future where she would stand on stage as a pianist in a large and splendid hall.
That child would live a life completely different from his from cradle to grave. She was a person of incomparable status. The thought of it only made him miserable.
Heiner tried to shake off the memory.
Training camp was a great place to forget things. They were forced to move their bodies mechanically, tortured until their limbs creaked, and brainwashed into loyalty until their minds were numb.
After doing that from dawn to dusk, his whole body was completely exhausted. It almost felt like the ultimate goal of this place was to keep distracting thoughts at bay.
Moreover, his injuries hadn't fully healed, forcing him to endure constant pain. Any wrong movement would result in a pale face and cold sweat. He had no time for distracting thoughts.
One day, he heard that a trainee in the next room was hurting his head after being hit by an instructor.
A trainee getting injured or killed wasn't a big deal. Normally, he would have just let it go. But in that moment, Heiner was suddenly aware of his situation.
“We are just one of many chess pieces.”
Those words kept ringing in his head.
He felt anxious all day, as if he was being chased by something. It was just another day like any other, but it felt different.
Due to his distracted mind, Heiner made several mistakes during training. At first, he was able to excuse himself by citing his physical condition, but he was eventually punished by running ten laps around the training ground.
As the final lap approached, Yugo walked into the parade ground, clutching something in his hand. Heiner trudged along and stopped.
“Hey, why are you making mistakes you never made before? Have you finally gone crazy?”
Yugo threw a water bottle and struck him. Heiner caught it with one hand and frowned. Yugo's rebuke returned immediately.
“Why the gloomy face?”
Why on earth did he run away then? He didn't even sneak into the garden; he could have just made an excuse that he'd stumbled upon it while taking a walk.
He wished he had at least spoken to him, saying that his performance was really good.
At the time, Heiner didn't know who the girl was. If he'd thought a little deeper, he might have guessed, but in his panic, he just ran away.
But perhaps, deep in his heart, he had already vaguely recognized it from the moment he saw that white, shining little body.
That kid is different from me.
Perhaps that's why he wasn't all that surprised when he learned the girl's true identity and that she was a promising pianist. In fact, he thought it was only natural.
It would have been strange if a girl who looked so noble and refined had such a lowly status.
While he was struggling to get a small music box, the girl would have learned all sorts of culture, including music, from professional teachers.
While he was thinking about how to fill his hungry stomach today or tomorrow, the child would have eaten her fill of warm, soft food.
While he was struggling to avoid being hit right away, she must have been dreaming of a future where she would stand on stage as a pianist in a large and splendid hall.
That child would live a life completely different from his from cradle to grave. She was a person of incomparable status. The thought of it only made him miserable.
Heiner tried to shake off the memory.
Training camp was a great place to forget things. They were forced to move their bodies mechanically, tortured until their limbs creaked, and brainwashed into loyalty until their minds were numb.
After doing that from dawn to dusk, his whole body was completely exhausted. It almost felt like the ultimate goal of this place was to keep distracting thoughts at bay.
Moreover, his injuries hadn't fully healed, forcing him to endure constant pain. Any wrong movement would result in a pale face and cold sweat. He had no time for distracting thoughts.
One day, he heard that a trainee in the next room was hurting his head after being hit by an instructor.
A trainee getting injured or killed wasn't a big deal. Normally, he would have just let it go. But in that moment, Heiner was suddenly aware of his situation.
“We are just one of many chess pieces.”
Those words kept ringing in his head.
He felt anxious all day, as if he was being chased by something. It was just another day like any other, but it felt different.
Due to his distracted mind, Heiner made several mistakes during training. At first, he was able to excuse himself by citing his physical condition, but he was eventually punished by running ten laps around the training ground.
As the final lap approached, Yugo walked into the parade ground, clutching something in his hand. Heiner trudged along and stopped.
“Hey, why are you making mistakes you never made before? Have you finally gone crazy?”
Yugo threw a water bottle and struck him. Heiner caught it with one hand and frowned. Yugo's rebuke returned immediately.
“Why the gloomy face?”
“...I think the wound has burst.”
“What? Look where you are. Wow, that’s right, it’s bleeding.”
The wound on his side, barely healing, had burst open. His shirt was slowly soaking with blood. But Heiner didn't have the strength to walk to the infirmary, so he simply sat down under a tree.
“What, aren’t you going to the infirmary?”
“A little later.”
“Yeah, so now the wound gets infected, and you die.”
‘Why are you keeping that trash?’
‘Trash? Come on, it’s a reed.’
“I went to the beach and broke it. I was going to make a flute.”
"... Flute?"
“I lived in the countryside when I was young. My father taught me how to make reed flutes.”
“You really hear a sound here?”
“Really? Then do you want to try making it too?”
Heiner silently extended his hand. Yugo, with a curious expression, handed him a reed. He plopped down next to Heiner.
“Do you have a knife? Pick it up and follow along.”
Heiner took a pocket knife out of his pocket and listened to Yugo's explanation quite carefully.
"Just cut this section with a knife. At about a 30-degree angle. Pull out the core inside... and it'll separate like this."
Heiner followed Yugo's lead quite skillfully. Separating the central wick created a cylindrical space inside.
“Cut the middle here with a knife, as if making a small scratch... and insert a leaf into this gap. Cut off all the remaining leaves, leaving only a little at the end... and voila.”
It was a deceptively simple process. Heiner examined the flute with a half-believing, half-doubting expression.
“How do you blow?”
“Blow here.”
Heiner tried to breathe into the entrance, but all he got was a whoosh of air. After a few more tries, he opened his mouth and muttered.
“I can’t hear anything.”
“It’s because you can’t do it. Look.”
Yugo put his mouth to the mouthpiece of the flute and blew gently. At the same time, a "beep" sound came from the flute. Heiner's expression became slightly strange.
Yugo blew the flute a few more times, producing a whistling sound. It sounded like a broken horn. Or like the cry of a young bird begging for food.
Whatever it was, it wasn't at all the sound of the 'instrument' Heiner had in mind.
“Hey, what do you think?”
“...”
“Why aren’t you talking? Is it so cool?”
“How do you play with that?”
"Playing? What kind of performance is this with such a crude, grass flute? It'll probably take a hundred years of practice to get the hang of it. Oh, come to think of it, there was an old man in my neighborhood who played a flute made of leaves..."
Yugo began to babble on and on about his story. But Heiner paid no attention, staring down at the flute he made in vain.
There was no way a single reed could make a proper instrument. What on earth did he expect?
Did you ever think you could play that song with a flute like this?
“Listen to the sound. What kind of flute is that?”
“If this is a flute, then what is it?”
“A real flute is something like a flute or a clarinet.”
“Hey, anything that makes a sound is an instrument.”
“No, you have to be able to play something.”
“You’re being prejudiced, you punk.”
Heiner shrugged and collapsed back onto his back. He wondered what use it was to talk to someone who'd never played a musical instrument in his life except a flute.
“Why are you lying down? Where is the infirmary?”
"Later."
“Then you’ll really fall behind early, you punk.”
Heiner closed his eyes without answering. A slightly cold wind brushed his face. Yugo, sitting next to him, blew a whistle on his flute.
How wonderful it would be if this were the sound of her piano. Heiner tossed and turned over. The grass swayed before his eyes.
"I want to hear that performance again," he thought absentmindedly.
He had the illusion that the sound of Yugo's single-note flute was changing into a piano piece whose title he didn't even know.
He wants to hear that performance again.
That ecstatic performance, that dreamlike scene from that summer night, just one more time...
Heiner chuckled. He had tried so hard to shake off the memory, but in the end, he couldn't shake it off. He was back where he was.
The air changed. The sound of a flute wafted from the hill.
***
Heiner was not very noticeable compared to his talents and skills.
Of course, he had been an excellent trainee before, and the supervisors had been keeping an eye on him, but it was during survival training that he truly showed his worth.
This was also the case when Heiner deliberately killed his existence.
He wasn't particularly interested in future dreams or success. He simply wanted to escape the immediate possibility of violence as much as possible.
But after visiting the Marquis's mansion, Heiner no longer hid his skills.
He literally gave it his all. He did everything he could. In a flash, Heiner became the top student in his class and was always invited to the Marquis's banquets.
If anyone heard him, they'd probably think it was ridiculous. The only reason he endured the grueling training to achieve top honors was to hear someone play the piano.
Even thinking about it himself, he felt so pathetic.
Things like the humanities and the arts were only for those who didn't have to worry about making a living. They were luxuries for people like him.
But when Heiner heard her play, he could completely understand why people read literature, appreciate art, and attend concerts.
Coincidentally, the dinner time overlapped with her piano practice time. Thanks to this, Heiner could always hear the performance from the same spot at the same time.
The boy hid in the grass beneath the window, breathing deeply into the melody that flowed from it. In a world filled with birdsong, rustling leaves, and the soft sounds of a piano, it seemed as if only they remained.
For a moment, his life felt pretty good.
As her fingers moved across the keys, Heiner felt as if he were floating in space, his senses completely lost to the world beneath his feet.
The performance took him to a foreign land across an unfamiliar sea, to a vast, open plain he had only seen in paintings, and to his hometown, which he had no memory of.
Not to the cold reality, but to a faraway place...
Heiner crouched in the grass, hugging his legs. His body, already large for his age, seemed infinitely smaller. He bowed his head and rested his cheek on his knee.
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