“How have you been lately, Heiner?”
The doctor entered, drawing aside a white curtain, sat down beside Heiner, and asked. He replied gruffly.
“The same as usual.”
“Is that so? To my eyes, you look a little different.”
“In what way, ma’am?”
“Just… strangely, somehow.”
The doctor gave a soft hum of a laugh and withdrew the needle from Heiner’s arm. As if accustomed to it, Heiner rotated his sore arm a few times, then rose.
It was drug therapy to suppress emotions. He didn’t know whether it truly had any effect, but it was one of the mandatory procedures all trainees had to undergo.
Heiner stared at the empty syringe for a moment, then bowed his head.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Heiner.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t overdo it.”
“Excuse me?”
At Heiner’s question, the doctor did not answer immediately. She hesitated. Gazing not at Heiner, but at a point slightly farther away, she slowly opened her mouth.
“I’ve worked here for twelve years. During that time, not a single one… I have never laid eyes on a trainee who met a good end. The very act of hoping for something is poison to you children.”
Heiner looked at the doctor, hiding his bewilderment. She was one of the few adults who treated the trainees like human beings, but even so, she was not someone of such stature that she would suddenly speak these words.
“I mean for you to take it easy.”
With her back to the white curtain, the doctor smiled faintly. Heiner did not answer, only lowering his eyes. In this place, one must not answer anything hastily.
The doctor was found hanged the next day.
***
The doctor’s body was carried off the island. Born of a lesser noble house, she had never married and so kept her family name; it was said she returned to her family’s embrace.
Had the instructors discovered her first, they would have welcomed a new doctor without ever knowing she had died. But fortunately—or unfortunately—it was a fourth-year trainee who found the dead doctor.
And that trainee disappeared one day. No one brought the matter of his absence above the surface. Nothing changed.
*The very act of hoping for something is poison to you children.* Heiner occasionally recalled the doctor’s words.
The seasons changed twice. In winter, as cold waves swept through, the isolation training that came every half year began.
In truth, calling it “training” was almost too grand. It was simply locking a trainee inside a solitary cell for three days.
Inside the cell, there was no light, no one to speak to, and nothing to read. When a person remained in a space where the inflow of new information was blocked at the source for a certain period, the mind weakened.
If brainwashing was administered at this time, the trainee would soak up that information like a sponge. It was perceived not as information that had “entered” from the outside, but as something they had “thought of” themselves.
Therefore, all the trainees were brainwashed to some degree. This was also why there was almost no doubt or resistance regarding the inhumane system of the island itself.
Heiner was no different. Even when he looked upon the Count’s splendid mansion, he had never thought the disparity irrational or unfair.
The first time such a Heiner had ever pitied his own plight—was after he saw *her*.
*You live boundlessly pure, noble, and beautiful, so why am I like this? It’s not as though I was born because I wanted to be born like this. I… I too. I wish I too had been born as the young master of some respectable house.*
*So I want to speak to you, pretending it’s nothing. You would receive me with a kind smile. We might even have a longer conversation…….*
The end of his thoughts always concluded in cold, harsh reality.
She was the only daughter of Count Dietrich, who ruled the fertile southern territories and wielded immense authority; he was an orphan, one of the chess pieces endlessly dying in the training camp. The more he thought of her, the lower and more wretched he became.
Nevertheless, in that solitary cell, Heiner thought of her incessantly. There was nothing else to think about. That was all. In the lonely, cold room, he thought of her again and again, turning over and over a piano piece whose title he did not even know.
The sense of reality gradually dulled. Something was created, collapsed, and reassembled.
Inside the head of the boy curled up in the corner of the cell, the little lady of Rosenberg knew him.
The high-born girl greeted him with a smile. She even asked how he was, whether his injuries had healed. It was laughable. Heiner did not even know her voice.
The girl was wearing a white dress that reached her knees. With her hands behind her back, she leaned forward slightly and stared up at him. Her small lips moved.
“What do you like most these days?”
Heiner answered blankly, in a daze.
“The piano…….”
“Piano? You know how to play?”
“No, I like piano music.”
“Really? I’m learning piano! What piece do you like best?”
“Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Shall I play you something?”
“……All right.”
The girl hopped over to the piano and sat on the bench. Heiner followed behind her. With each step, the surrounding scenery pushed aside and changed. White curtains billowed in the wind. He knew this place.
It was that practice room he had peered into through the window curtains.
“I’m sure you’ll like this piece too.”
The girl grinned brightly and turned toward the piano. A white hand slowly descended upon the keys. From her fingertips bloomed a calm, beautiful melody. It was the song that had flowed from that broken music box long ago.
The scent of roses from the garden drifted in through the open window.
There, Heiner was not hiding in the bushes. He was standing by her side. Very close.
From very close—he could see her shining blonde hair, her soft cheek, her fingers gliding over the keys.
There, he was her only audience. As if she were his only pianist.
Heiner awoke from the dream.
***
“The utility of each person differs, but God has not created useless human beings. However, orphans like you and your peers, criminals and beggars—you do not contribute in any way and instead only leech off society. Doesn’t that seem somewhat unreasonable?”
…….
“Such people absolutely require resocialization, and this training camp has taken on that role. To make useless beings like you into necessary ones.”
…….
“Which leaves the question of exactly *what* kind of utility. Let me get this straight. There is a foolish and idiotic—that is, a common misconception held by anti-war activists. That a situation without war is peace.”
…….
“That is wrong. War is peace itself. Possessing the strength to protect one’s homeland, and achieving long, stable peace by making it so that no one can dare encroach upon the homeland through war—that is true peace.”
…….
“And so, in the end, you become very useful people for the peace of the homeland. The state exists to aid in that. You have a duty to be grateful and obedient to it.”
The instructor spoke of the fates of subversive elements who had not been grateful and obedient.
Those who, unable to endure torture and interrogation during espionage activities, leaked classified information. Those who distributed seditious documents among civilians. Those who organized illegal groups. Those who incited strikes, and those who joined them.
Over a long period, Heiner listened to how foolish, malicious, and unpredictable they were. In the meantime, he made several oaths and signed several pledges.
The oil lamp flickered a few times. The instructor’s face was half hidden in shadow; only the line of his mouth was visible. Heiner sat on a hard iron chair, fidgeting with his hands.
Ding—.
Ding—.
Ding—.
From outside, the clock tower chimed the hour. Here, individuals could not check the time themselves; they could only know it through information from the outside.
The oil lamp flickered once more. The instructor smiled and said to him,
“It’s two o’clock. Good work.”
***
That day, winter rain fell in a drizzle.
Wet grass was trampled underfoot. Pushing aside leaves that had grown lush in the meantime, Heiner walked up close to the white building.
Today the practice room window was closed, so he had to press his ear very close to hear the performance. He approached so closely it was almost reckless.
The performance, separated by a single pane of glass, flowed into his ears. It was a somewhat lonely melody befitting the rainy weather.
Heiner rested his hands on the window frame and gazed blankly inside. She had her eyes closed. Her side profile as she played looked incredibly small and lonely.
Even though he knew it was merely an illusion created by the music—he could not tear his gaze away from that face.
Heiner felt a kinship that made no sense. A kinship that truly, utterly made no sense. He could not tell whether it was the music that had enchanted him, or her.
Cold raindrops fell from the sky, and an unceasing melody resounded in his ears.
Heiner, about to remove his hand from the window frame, hesitated for a moment. On his forearm, revealed beneath his rolled-up sleeve, needle marks remained.