1

At midday, I was awoken from my slumber by an annoying buzzing sound. I could sense vibrations coming from my left hand, and it felt like there was a blocky, metallic object in it—clearly a phone. I opened my eyes, blinked a few times, and then raised my head to take a look at it.

One moment. I first had to let out a violent cough that made me feel as if my lungs were tearing apart. While doing that, I suddenly remembered why there was a phone in my hand in the first place.

I had a maid that would come by a few days a week. She would tidy up my living area and take care of any chores that I didn’t bother doing myself. One day in particular (yesterday), I noticed that she’d left her phone behind on my kitchen counter.

Now, this made for quite the dilemma. Was I to leave it there and return it once she came back, or…did she actually plant it there because she wanted me to pick it up and go through it?

Surely the latter wasn’t the case. That was far too unlikely; it wasn’t as if there was some secret message that she could only get across by having me go through her phone. It would’ve been completely impractical.

But impractical or not, it was still a possibility…

I took the liberty of picking up the phone and examining its contents. To my surprise, there was no passcode on it. I was able to peruse her messages and pictures and social media to my heart’s content. I didn’t find anything too weird (nor was I hoping for that), but it was almost addictive to see how much gossip and entertainment a young woman like her experienced on a daily basis. It was a strange feeling, and in order to familiarize myself with it, I scrolled through her phone and took it all in until my eyes subconsciously closed and I faded away into slumber.

And that’s how things ended up like this.

As I lay in my bed, I held up the phone and checked to see who was calling. The ID read “Mirelda.”

Oh, dear. It’s probably just another vacuous schoolgirl.

I normally wouldn’t have answered for that reason, but there was a part of me that was still hungry for more gossip. I had to be cautious, though. This Mirelda probably wasn’t expecting a middle-aged man to pick up.

Hesitantly, I answered the call and placed the phone against my ear.

Silence.

I was hoping that I’d at least have been able to hear a story or two before having to speak, but that sadly was not the case.

“H-Hello…?” I said.

“Hi,” responded the girl. “Is Lina there?”

…My maid’s name is Lina?

“Uh, no, not right now.”

“Oh. Are you her dad?”

I froze for a moment. I didn’t want to lie, but I figured it was the only way to make myself seem less suspicious. There was really no other choice.

“...Yes, I’m her father.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, mister. I was just calling to remind Lina about my piano competition tonight. I made it all the way to the semifinals.”

A piano competition…

“I see. Congratulations. I’ll…uh, I’ll let Lina know.”

“Feel free to come too, mister! It's at 8 PM at Crescent Hall.”

She was being way too friendly. If she knew that I was just a random middle-aged man, I’m sure she would’ve hung up a long time ago.

“I don’t think I have time for it, but thanks for the offer,” I replied. “Good luck. You’ll do great.”

“I hope so. I want to become a professional someday and compose my own music.”

Here I was, trying to end the conversation but being denied each time. This Mirelda was quite the chatterbox.

Become a professional? Compose music? People say that and then quit within the same year.

“...Those are quite lofty ambitions,” I uttered, feeling a need to say what I really thought.

“I’m glad you’re being a little more honest now.”

“...”

“You’re right,” the girl continued, her voice softening. “I don’t have much going for me. Not even talent. But still…I want to know how it feels.”

“...How it feels?”

I could recognize a sudden change in her demeanor.

“To make something great…something beautiful that lasts. A masterpiece. I want to know how it feels to create something like that.”

Her words startled me. It had been a long time since I’d heard something so sincere.

“I see…” I muttered. “Then I wish you the best.”

With that, the call ended. I fell back onto my pillow, placing my hands behind my head. I thought.

If she knew that a life like mine was the culmination of her endeavors, would she still pursue them?

God…my head really ached.

Within the last ten years, the great Joris von Heinrich had been diagnosed with a plethora of different diseases. He was once a renowned violinist, second to none when it came to composing neoclassical music, but that title had long since been forsaken by him. A craft refined to its full potential meant that there was no room for growth—it only left the path this man walked with a bitter emptiness. As a result, he chose to live out the rest of his days complacently, for he knew that one who had fulfilled his purpose had no further use to the world.

Truth be told…I was that man. I was the walking ball of illness that refused to spend every waking moment of my life playing the violin and composing yet another paragon of musical brilliance, choosing instead to do things I enjoyed. I felt that I had earned the right to live on my own terms, unbound by the chains of inspiration and perspiration and whatever else constituted my supposed ingenuity.

I woke up. I consumed and expelled. I slept. Once one had understood and fulfilled their reason for being, they could use that contentment as sustenance for the remainder of their existence. I was living proof of this.

And yet…

To make something great…something beautiful that lasts. A masterpiece. I want to know how it feels to create something like that.

I suppose that, even though you could be content with yourself, it didn’t mean the world would be content with you.

Another brutal cough ripped through me.

She was someone captivated by that romantic, illusory ideal of music and composition. Someone who would likely quit within the same year.

Staring at the ceiling, I kept telling myself that. I knew and understood it, but my desire still lingered. It was really so childish of me.

…Fine. So be it.

I slowly raised myself and sat upright.

For the first time in a while, I was to leave my house and venture off into the outside world. There was a piano competition I had to attend.