Rosenberg Mansion was splendid, as if all the beautiful and precious things in the world had been melted down to create it. From the short steps at the entrance to the pillars holding up the building, there was not a single thing that fell short of perfection. Even Hainer, who did not easily waver, stopped in his tracks at this extravagance.
On either side of the massive, towering marble staircase, lion statues stood tall. On the square pillars supporting the lion statues, something was written in an ancient language, but he could not read it. Standing before it, Hainer felt like a tiny ant.
Inside the banquet hall, a long table was set. The count sat at the head, the supervisors and officers sat next, and the trainees sat in rows further down. The meal consisted entirely of foods he had never seen before. The chef came out personally and explained each plate, but high-class terminology was mixed in, so Hainer could not understand well.
Hainer occasionally answered questions and continued his meal. When he suddenly raised his head and looked up, he saw a massive mural painted on the ceiling. Even to Hainer, who was entirely ignorant of art, it was a solemn mural painted with an incredibly delicate touch. The ceiling was so high that he could not take it all in at once, and only a portion was visible. Count Dietrich, noticing that Hainer was examining the ceiling, suddenly spoke.
“This is a mural from two hundred years ago.”
The gazes of everyone, including Hainer, were drawn to Count Dietrich. The count smiled slightly, as if enjoying their attention. “I have called the finest muralists to keep it under continuous restoration.”
“…I apologize. I stopped because this is the first time I have seen such a remarkable mural.”
“Not at all. Even most nobles are amazed by it; how much more so commoners. Brother Gustav, Saint Marian, the Righteous August… it would not be an exaggeration to say that almost all famous religious figures are depicted.”
Count Dietrich was not a frivolous man. However, this mural was one of his greatest prides, and it was indeed a work worthy of such pride. As soon as the count finished speaking, praises for the mural poured out from here and there.
“When I first saw it, I couldn’t close my mouth. No matter how many times I see it, it is a wondrous work.”
“Apart from the royal palace, this mansion must be the only place capable of accommodating a mural of this scale.”
Hainer let their words flow in one ear and out the other, gazing up at the mural for a long while. Sunlight poured in through the colorful glass windows set here and there in the ceiling. His eyes lingered for a long time on the saint with her hands clasped in prayer. The saint’s face, illuminated brilliantly by the light, was holy and divine.
Hainer had never once believed in God. He had never thought of his sins as sins, and therefore had never repented. Yet for some reason, he felt that the saint was begging God for forgiveness for the sins of all those gathered here. It was quite a strange feeling. He thought he might understand why people believed in God.
***
After the banquet ended, the trainees came out with the count into the mansion’s rose garden. The Rosenberg Mansion’s rose garden was said to be as beautiful as the royal palace gardens. Hainer silently looked around the garden from the very back row. The roses, welcoming late spring, were in full bloom.
The scent of roses wafting from all directions pricked his nose. Hainer briefly closed his eyes at the intense fragrance that seemed to invade even his mind.
‘I’m tired.’
He felt sorry to Ethan, but in truth, he had little interest in joining the special operations unit. The same went for this banquet. Until now, Hainer had never desperately wanted something. He had experienced more disappointment than hope, and learned to give up faster than to desire. From the beginning, there had been almost nothing precious enough in his life to desperately want.
“Excuse me, Count.”
An adjutant who approached hurriedly whispered something to Count Dietrich. The count stroked his chin and nodded. The trainees, who had suddenly stopped walking together, stood blankly waiting for the count. The count opened his mouth with an “Ah,” like someone who had belatedly realized their existence.
“I have some business to attend to, so I must take my leave now. It was a pleasure meeting you promising ones.”
Count Dietrich, who had spoken in a somewhat perfunctory manner, turned around. Even amid the abruptness, the trainees saluted behind the count with a deeply ingrained habit. The adjutant who stepped forward in his place explained the rest to the trainees.
“The carriage will depart at four o’clock. Until then, you are free to look around this garden. If you wish to look around the library or the hall, tell the butler and he will guide you. Be grateful to the count for inviting you to this mansion.”
“Yes!”
The other trainees gathered in groups of threes and fives to talk. Hainer briefly replied to another graduating student who approached him, then went deep into the garden alone. He simply intended to rest in a corner of the garden. His not-yet-healed body was already complaining of extreme fatigue.
Hainer wandered in search of a place to rest undisturbed. The further he went into the corners, the more distant the voices became. Soon he discovered a bench among the thickets. The area around the bench, placed in the shade of a tree, was deserted and exuded a peaceful atmosphere.
Hainer lay down long on the bench. Dappled shadows fell across his face as he lay looking up at the sky. He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead. The branches of a tall, large tree were intricately intertwined with leaves. The leaves swayed with the flow of air. Thinking that it wasn’t such a bad feeling, Hainer closed his eyes.
He was tired, but sleep did not come. Lying in a quiet place, all the senses in his body seemed to awaken more acutely. At that moment, piano music floated to him on the wind from somewhere. His eyes snapped open.
‘This is…’
It was a very faint sound, but Hainer could clearly recognize it. It was a familiar melody. He knew this tune. He did not know whose piece it was, or what the title was, but he remembered this melody.
During his time at the orphanage, Hainer had a small music box. A noblewoman who had visited the orphanage as a volunteer had given it to him as a gift. And it had instantly captivated the young boy. The music flowing from the music box was like a lullaby that no one had ever sung to him. Hainer hid deep in the backyard of the orphanage every day to listen to that music box.
When he was beaten without reason and his whole body was covered in wounds, when he burned with a severe cold, when his stomach hurt from hunger, when he was lonely and alone… That music box was the first precious thing young Hainer had ever possessed. He had an intuition that he would never have such a thing again in his life.
Before even a few days had passed, another boy from the orphanage stole the music box. It must have seemed quite expensive, and he apparently thought he could sell it for money. To reclaim the music box, Hainer fought with the boy. The boy was five years older and bigger, but Hainer rushed at him with desperate ferocity and seized victory.
However, the music box was shattered during their scuffle. Because they had fought so fiercely, not only the music box but several other pieces of furniture were damaged as well. As punishment, Hainer was severely beaten by the director and went without meals for three days.
Hainer tried to fix the broken music box but failed. Even when he turned the lever, it made no sound, only spinning uselessly. The young boy kept the broken music box for a whole month. And on the day before the sponsors’ visit, during cleaning time, someone mistook it for trash and threw it away.
The leaves brushed against the wind, making a forlorn sound. Fragments of old memories creaked and assembled in his head. Hainer slowly rose from the bench. His feet moved as if entranced, following the piano sound.
This was the melody that had played from that music box.
Music was of absolutely no use for survival. Hainer neither knew about music nor particularly wanted to. But he could not stop his steps. The piano sound grew gradually clearer, as if he could grasp it in his hand. Eventually, Hainer arrived in front of a building in a secluded place.
It was an entirely white building, as if one should not touch it. The piano sound leaked through a gap in an open window on the first floor. Hainer suppressed his presence and approached the window. The curtain was half-drawn over the window. The performance continued. He slowly poked his head in.
A white dress, even whiter than the building’s walls, flickered between the curtains. Hainer blinked once. Soon his vision cleared.
‘Ah.’
Bathed in sunlight, the surfaces of all objects gleamed white. A grand piano, black and white keys, small hands, a white dress, braided blonde hair, lowered eyes, a face that looked holy and sacred…
Hainer gazed at the scene inside the room, frozen like a statue. He could not move, as if his breath were caught. He felt an emotion similar to when he had seen Saint Marian in the mural, yet far more intense. A soft, beautiful melody like clouds wrapped around his ears. An excess of rapture resembled the flip side of fear. Hainer unconsciously stepped back.
Rustle.
A branch under his foot was crushed. Hainer soundlessly drew in a sharp breath. At the same time, the piano sound cut off short. The girl in the white dress turned her head. He quickly hid his body. Inside the room, the piano chair scraped back with a screech. The sound of small shoes approaching the window could be heard.
Hainer fled from that place.