To My Beloved Oppressor

Chapter 5

What the hell?

Annette thought about taking another glass, but she didn't want to draw attention to the situation with unnecessary fuss. Eventually, she gave up and had to endure the time again.

Suddenly, there was an ah-ha sound from the podium. The emcee stood on the stage, holding a microphone. People's gazes were drawn forward.

Annette looked at the emcee for a moment, then quickly looked out the window disinterestedly. A distinct darkness had fallen outside at some point.

People burst out laughing at the emcee's jokes. After asking if the food was good and if they were enjoying the banquet, he cut to the chase.

"We, at the Belen Hotel, have welcomed a very special person for our guests here today. Your representative put a lot of effort into it."

Then came people's exclamations. Even then, Annette only stared out the window.

"For a performance worthy of a beautiful autumn evening, here is Felix Kafka, the amazing genius born of Padania, the master of the keyboard!"

Annette's body jerked. Her half-closed eyes gradually widened and her pupils began to flicker. She spun around and turned her head to look at the man who was going up on the podium along with the applause.

Felix Kafka.

A prodigious pianist who had won first place in all kinds of competitions, including the world's most prestigious Pricarlo International Competition.

He was once Annette's idol.

After politely greeting the crowd, Felix sat down at the piano. He took a long breath in and exhaled. Then he closed his eyes as if immersed in his own perfect world.

His face was as pious and holy, unlike anything of this world. It was as if only Felix and the piano existed in this huge hall.

Opening his eyes, Felix swept his hair once and raised his left hand. His fingers, which had been suspended in the air for a moment, landed slowly on the keys.

Annette couldn't breathe until the keys were pressed and the first notes were heard.

Nocturne No. 2.

The neat melody wound through the air. At one time, Annette had played this piece countless times. Despite a gap of nearly three years, she could recall the notes vividly.

E flat. Binary form. Dispersed chords in the left hand. Non-harmonic notes and chromatic melodies that were added the more the melody was repeated...

Before the breath of sound died, Felix gave it life by linking the next note. Key to key and key to key. Life force was continually given along his hand.

It was as if Felix was the messenger recreating the Idea here. At this moment, the world they stepped into became meaningless, as if the inhalation and exhalation were all pledged to his performance.

The melody of whispering love to a lover at the window in the middle of the night was so beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes.

Piano Sonata, La Campanella-and until the encore ended, Annette gripped her hands tightly together. She didn't even feel the gaze on her the whole time.

The applause overflowed as Felix stood up to bow. People gathered around him as he came off the stage.

Annette stared desperately at him, standing frozen in place. Her chest was tightly filled with emotion and sadness.

You were my idol.

I nurtured my dreams by listening to you play.

I wanted to be a pianist like you.