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It was clear that everything had now become meaningless. But even in the calm emptiness, the emotional byproducts continued to rise and fall like dust.
He asked, easily tying up Annette's hesitation.
“Is there anything else you need to decipher?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“If there are any parts that can only be understood through direct experience, I will prepare them.”
"Preparation...?"
Annette muttered incredulously. Heiner simply replied, as if asking the obvious.
"Piano."
"Ah."
Annette belatedly understood what he meant. She'd been lost in thought for a moment, and her mind wasn't working properly.
“No, it’s okay. Just look at the sheet music...”
Annette trailed off, unsure.
While she can deduce the notes just by looking at the score, she's been away from it for so long that she might have missed some parts. And when she actually plays, she might discover some odd notes.
Heiner, who was staring blankly at Annett,e who was hesitating and thought, made a suggestion.
“Just in case, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try, right? There’s a piano at the nearby church... if you don’t mind.”
Certainly, his words were valid. She also thought that trying was much better than not trying at all.
The problem was... She wasn’t sure if she could play the piano or not.
She couldn't even remember the last time she'd played the piano. The last time she remembered a failure was when she stormed out of a party where Felix Kafka was present.
But she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she couldn't play the piano at all.
The safety of their country and the lives of countless people were at stake. In such a situation, offering such a meager excuse was absurd.
She thought he might be wondering what the problem was. She thought so herself.
“...Yes, that would be good.”
Annette managed to answer with a smile.
That afternoon, Annette and Heiner rode in a military vehicle to a nearby church. All the windows inside the vehicle were covered with blackout curtains.
The car rattled as it moved forward. Inside the darkened car, the two sat at the ends of the seats, spaced apart.
Annette sat quietly, her hands clasped on her knees, her eyes downcast. Unable to look out the window, she had nothing to do but immerse herself in thought.
It felt like it had been ages since she been to church, even though she only skipped two Sundays.
People were really funny.
She hadn't been to church in years since the revolution, and she felt so anxious and empty just because she had missed it twice.
As if he had seen into her mind, Heiner suddenly asked.
“You kept going to church.”
"... Yes?"
“Here.”
“Oh, yes. Every week...”
“Even in Sinsier?”
“No, I rarely went outside in Sinsier.”
"Then why did you start going to church again here? You hadn't been going for a while."
Annette hesitated for a moment. Heiner added absentmindedly.
“I thought you were a cold-hearted person.”
“I was a cold-hearted person. It’s not like I became devout again.”
“Just as atheist soldiers go to church on the battlefield, do you do the same?”
“I think so. I need a place to talk...”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just everything.”
“Then tell me.”
"Yes?"
"All of it."
For a moment, Annette stared at him in disbelief. Heiner's expression was utterly shameless.
“Why you?”
“You said you needed a place to talk.”
“That is not true, Your Excellency.”
“Why not me?”
Annette, at a loss for words, licked her lips.
‘What are you saying...’
She couldn't figure out what the hell this conversation was about. She crossed her arms and turned her head back to the front.
“Your Excellency, are you telling me everything? No.”
“I'm trying to talk to you.”
Heiner spoke calmly. Annette was startled by the sudden, candid answer. She muttered with discomfort.
“...How often have our conversations been honest?”
What matters isn't how much you talk, but how you talk.
In this relationship, where there was no trust or future, any conversation was pointless. Both he and she were simply too busy hiding the depths of their hearts.
After a while, the car slowly came to a stop. The two got out in silence. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon.
“The inside is empty.”
As they entered the entrance, Heiner suddenly spoke. Annette nodded quietly.
As he had said, there was no one inside the church. She stepped into the quiet chapel.
Stained glass windows lined both walls of the chapel. The colorful glass, with its base decorated with holy images, bathed in the slanted afternoon light, exuded a sacred and sublime atmosphere.
Annette walked across the center toward the piano. She opened the black lid, revealing cold-looking keys.
Annette stared at the keys for a moment as if they were unfamiliar, then placed the sheet music on the stand. Then she pulled out a chair and sat down.
Heiner slowly approached her and leaned against the chapel chair directly in front of the piano. No words were exchanged between them.
Annette stared at the first page of the score, her hands still resting on her lap. Her gaze dropped to the keyboard, then lifted again.
Everything was still─ familiar, like an old habit.
She was pressing the keys before she could even speak properly. The piano was her first language. It was present in every moment of her life.
She practiced hard every day, felt frustrated by the wall of talent, overcame it through hard work, was frustrated again, and then put her hands on the keyboard again, repeating this hundreds and thousands of times.
Some might say that's a full stomach sound.
She knew how blessed it was to live without any shortcomings and yet worry about not improving her piano skills.
But at least for Annette, the piano was an eternal unrequited love, something she could never fully possess.
And now it's out of reach.
Annette lowered her eyes and breathed shallowly. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Finally, she spoke softly.
“Actually, I can’t play the piano. Not at all.”
“...”
“It’s been like that for a while now.”
She felt his gaze on the side of her face. After a while, Heiner spoke.
“...Since the revolution, I haven’t heard the sound of a piano in the house even once.”
Annette thought, not impressed, that he knew that.
“Since then?”
“You knew it.”
“You couldn’t play the piano even at the party where Felix Kafka was.”
“If you knew, why did you bring me here?”
“Things weren’t good at the time... and I thought it might be because you were in front of people.”
At the time, people brought Annette up on stage to mock her. Of course, the situation itself was difficult. But that couldn't be the reason.
"No."
Annette turned to face him and said.
“I just can’t hit it.”
“Can I ask why...?”
“...There are many things. While I was playing the piano, the revolutionary army stormed into the practice room. And then I saw my father shot to death with my own eyes.”
Her tone was flat, as if she were touching an old scar.
"Your Excellency said my talent and hard work were genuine, but well, people didn't think so. Everything I achieved was denied and destroyed."
“...”
"That's why I couldn't play. It's important, so I came here to at least try, and I'm sorry I couldn't help. I think it's better to leave the playing to someone else."
In this insignificant confession, she feels anew that many emotions have evaporated during the time that has passed.
She was still naive about her feelings when she ran away from that party. The pain and suffering were too much to bear, so she ran away.
For a very long time.
Up to here.
Only after several seasons have passed does she see the faded traces. Her empty hands, devoid of anything. Her own appearance was worn and familiar.
“I really...”
Suddenly, he muttered softly, as if exclaiming.
“...I took everything away from you.”
He didn't look at all cheerful as he said that. He looked a little dejected, a little pained.
“You think so?”
Annette asked with a faint smile.
It couldn't all be Heiner's fault. He was the one leading the charge, and he was the one who stood by, but ultimately, it was all bound to happen anyway.
But she couldn't deny that he was there every moment of that abyss.
“Then you should be satisfied. That was your goal.”
“...”
“I don’t mean to say anything to you. I’m just curious.”
The tone was light enough to be refreshing. Heiner stood there, staring at her blankly, as if a door had closed before him.
He asked, easily tying up Annette's hesitation.
“Is there anything else you need to decipher?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“If there are any parts that can only be understood through direct experience, I will prepare them.”
"Preparation...?"
Annette muttered incredulously. Heiner simply replied, as if asking the obvious.
"Piano."
"Ah."
Annette belatedly understood what he meant. She'd been lost in thought for a moment, and her mind wasn't working properly.
“No, it’s okay. Just look at the sheet music...”
Annette trailed off, unsure.
While she can deduce the notes just by looking at the score, she's been away from it for so long that she might have missed some parts. And when she actually plays, she might discover some odd notes.
Heiner, who was staring blankly at Annett,e who was hesitating and thought, made a suggestion.
“Just in case, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try, right? There’s a piano at the nearby church... if you don’t mind.”
Certainly, his words were valid. She also thought that trying was much better than not trying at all.
The problem was... She wasn’t sure if she could play the piano or not.
She couldn't even remember the last time she'd played the piano. The last time she remembered a failure was when she stormed out of a party where Felix Kafka was present.
But she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she couldn't play the piano at all.
The safety of their country and the lives of countless people were at stake. In such a situation, offering such a meager excuse was absurd.
She thought he might be wondering what the problem was. She thought so herself.
“...Yes, that would be good.”
Annette managed to answer with a smile.
***
That afternoon, Annette and Heiner rode in a military vehicle to a nearby church. All the windows inside the vehicle were covered with blackout curtains.
The car rattled as it moved forward. Inside the darkened car, the two sat at the ends of the seats, spaced apart.
Annette sat quietly, her hands clasped on her knees, her eyes downcast. Unable to look out the window, she had nothing to do but immerse herself in thought.
It felt like it had been ages since she been to church, even though she only skipped two Sundays.
People were really funny.
She hadn't been to church in years since the revolution, and she felt so anxious and empty just because she had missed it twice.
As if he had seen into her mind, Heiner suddenly asked.
“You kept going to church.”
"... Yes?"
“Here.”
“Oh, yes. Every week...”
“Even in Sinsier?”
“No, I rarely went outside in Sinsier.”
"Then why did you start going to church again here? You hadn't been going for a while."
Annette hesitated for a moment. Heiner added absentmindedly.
“I thought you were a cold-hearted person.”
“I was a cold-hearted person. It’s not like I became devout again.”
“Just as atheist soldiers go to church on the battlefield, do you do the same?”
“I think so. I need a place to talk...”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just everything.”
“Then tell me.”
"Yes?"
"All of it."
For a moment, Annette stared at him in disbelief. Heiner's expression was utterly shameless.
“Why you?”
“You said you needed a place to talk.”
“That is not true, Your Excellency.”
“Why not me?”
Annette, at a loss for words, licked her lips.
‘What are you saying...’
She couldn't figure out what the hell this conversation was about. She crossed her arms and turned her head back to the front.
“Your Excellency, are you telling me everything? No.”
“I'm trying to talk to you.”
Heiner spoke calmly. Annette was startled by the sudden, candid answer. She muttered with discomfort.
“...How often have our conversations been honest?”
What matters isn't how much you talk, but how you talk.
In this relationship, where there was no trust or future, any conversation was pointless. Both he and she were simply too busy hiding the depths of their hearts.
After a while, the car slowly came to a stop. The two got out in silence. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon.
“The inside is empty.”
As they entered the entrance, Heiner suddenly spoke. Annette nodded quietly.
As he had said, there was no one inside the church. She stepped into the quiet chapel.
Stained glass windows lined both walls of the chapel. The colorful glass, with its base decorated with holy images, bathed in the slanted afternoon light, exuded a sacred and sublime atmosphere.
Annette walked across the center toward the piano. She opened the black lid, revealing cold-looking keys.
Annette stared at the keys for a moment as if they were unfamiliar, then placed the sheet music on the stand. Then she pulled out a chair and sat down.
Heiner slowly approached her and leaned against the chapel chair directly in front of the piano. No words were exchanged between them.
Annette stared at the first page of the score, her hands still resting on her lap. Her gaze dropped to the keyboard, then lifted again.
Everything was still─ familiar, like an old habit.
She was pressing the keys before she could even speak properly. The piano was her first language. It was present in every moment of her life.
She practiced hard every day, felt frustrated by the wall of talent, overcame it through hard work, was frustrated again, and then put her hands on the keyboard again, repeating this hundreds and thousands of times.
Some might say that's a full stomach sound.
She knew how blessed it was to live without any shortcomings and yet worry about not improving her piano skills.
But at least for Annette, the piano was an eternal unrequited love, something she could never fully possess.
And now it's out of reach.
Annette lowered her eyes and breathed shallowly. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Finally, she spoke softly.
“Actually, I can’t play the piano. Not at all.”
“...”
“It’s been like that for a while now.”
She felt his gaze on the side of her face. After a while, Heiner spoke.
“...Since the revolution, I haven’t heard the sound of a piano in the house even once.”
Annette thought, not impressed, that he knew that.
“Since then?”
“You knew it.”
“You couldn’t play the piano even at the party where Felix Kafka was.”
“If you knew, why did you bring me here?”
“Things weren’t good at the time... and I thought it might be because you were in front of people.”
At the time, people brought Annette up on stage to mock her. Of course, the situation itself was difficult. But that couldn't be the reason.
"No."
Annette turned to face him and said.
“I just can’t hit it.”
“Can I ask why...?”
“...There are many things. While I was playing the piano, the revolutionary army stormed into the practice room. And then I saw my father shot to death with my own eyes.”
Her tone was flat, as if she were touching an old scar.
"Your Excellency said my talent and hard work were genuine, but well, people didn't think so. Everything I achieved was denied and destroyed."
“...”
"That's why I couldn't play. It's important, so I came here to at least try, and I'm sorry I couldn't help. I think it's better to leave the playing to someone else."
In this insignificant confession, she feels anew that many emotions have evaporated during the time that has passed.
She was still naive about her feelings when she ran away from that party. The pain and suffering were too much to bear, so she ran away.
For a very long time.
Up to here.
Only after several seasons have passed does she see the faded traces. Her empty hands, devoid of anything. Her own appearance was worn and familiar.
“I really...”
Suddenly, he muttered softly, as if exclaiming.
“...I took everything away from you.”
He didn't look at all cheerful as he said that. He looked a little dejected, a little pained.
“You think so?”
Annette asked with a faint smile.
It couldn't all be Heiner's fault. He was the one leading the charge, and he was the one who stood by, but ultimately, it was all bound to happen anyway.
But she couldn't deny that he was there every moment of that abyss.
“Then you should be satisfied. That was your goal.”
“...”
“I don’t mean to say anything to you. I’m just curious.”
The tone was light enough to be refreshing. Heiner stood there, staring at her blankly, as if a door had closed before him.
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