Track 1 - “The Devil’s Tenderness”

There was a gentle tune, like softly strumming strings.

It almost sounded dreamlike.

“Sounds like something you’d hear in a music box, don’t you think?” Solomon whispered, looking at me.

Worn, lace curtains fluttered as the afternoon sunlight stretched halfway across the room. Beside me, Solomon sat and treated my ear with disinfectant.

“It should be okay to move around now, I think.”

He said, nudging the cold metal in my ear and causing a sharp pain to shoot through it.

“Oh, maybe not. It might’ve been too big for you too…”

At some point, Solomon’s fingers had become stained with blood. I tried to touch my throbbing ear, only to realize my fingers wouldn’t move.

Oh, right. My fingers… and my arms were gone.

My gaze slid to where my prosthetics lay on the floor.

I didn’t feel a thing. They weren’t my arms after all.

“You poor thing… bleeding like this without even flinching. My cute little puppet, did you finally break?”

As he called me pitiful, Solomon’s lips curled up into a grin. Yet his blue eyes stayed gentle, and his arms were still warm as he held me.

Solomon combed his fingers through my hair as if he was trying to comfort me, and eventually rose to his feet.

“Come on, puppet. Let’s eat.”

He glanced at my prosthetics on the floor and, almost like an afterthought, he asked, “Want me to put them on?”

I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

“…It’d feel like I have double the arms, so no.”

“Double…? Do they hurt?”

Solomon squinted a little, “The arms you lost still hurt, don’t they? That’s called phantom limb pain, Tadzio.”

So I was feeling pain for something that was already gone, but didn’t feel a thing for my ear that was actually bleeding. Solomon looked as though he found that funny.

Humming his usual little tune, he made his way to the cramped kitchen. Solomon’s singing was like a finely tuned music box. He wasn’t even a semitone off, every note always sounded with flawless clarity.

I used to hate him before, and it’s not like I could say I’d grown to like him.

So why was I still there?

I could hardly remember anymore.

Maybe I didn’t need to.

After being left alone, everything seemed louder.

The ticking of the wall clock, the sound of motorcycles revving outside, shouting in the distance, even the sound of wind rustling the pages of dry sheet music… I didn’t need to worry about what note the clock ticked or if the motorcycle sounded half a step off anymore.

Hanging on the wall was a calendar bearing the marks that Solomon had made on it, and that’s how I knew it’d been two weeks since I’d first arrived there.

White flowers, cold gravestones, emotions I couldn’t name…

Being mugged, stomped on, having my prosthetics ripped off…

Lying in that cold alleyway, Solomon’s eyes sparkling with amusement as they stared into mine…

Memories from two weeks ago floated in the back of my mind before they drifted away.

“Here. Say ahh…” Solomon raised a piece of softly stewed risotto to my lips, and the smell of cheese hit my nose. Overwhelmed, I pressed my lips together.

“Already? You didn’t eat that much.” Solomon teased, poking my bottom lip with the spoon. I turned away, uncomfortable. Solomon set down the spoon with a sigh.

Before I knew it, the sunlight from the window was gone. It was night.

Solomon wiped me clean, then helped me into freshly washed pajamas. Without my prosthetics on, the sleeves hung limply by my sides. Despite it all, he still hummed his usual tune. It was a song I didn’t recognize.

But… if I had to compare it to something, it’d be Chopin. As that thought dawned on me, a memory of soft gold and green surfaced in my mind.

I immediately shut it all away.

I wouldn’t think about it. Any of it. I pushed away the thought of everything I was supposed to think about.

“Are you cold?”

Solomon hugged me from behind, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. As if I were something precious to him. Like a child holding their first stuffed animal.

Whenever he was in a good mood, Solomon’s voice took on a gentle tone.

While I listened to him… I felt safe, cocooned in the soft comforter like I was drifting off into a deep sleep.

Before I could answer Solomon and tell him that I wasn’t cold, the doorbell rang.

I hated that sound. It was loud and grating.

Solomon pulled me to my feet and hid me in the closet before he said, “Tadzio, cover your ears and try to get some sleep.”

With that, he closed the closet door.

Right after that, I heard the crude voices and loud footsteps of some men outside.

“Hey, Solomon. Ya aren’t workin’ at the shop tonight?”

“If you want drinks go buy them yourself. You know as well as I do that I don’t have a single euro at my place. All I’ve got is a knife and some cheap erotica.”

“Whaddya need a knife for?”

“To stab guys I hate in the junk. Obviously.”

At that, loud booming laughter filled the air.

“Good one. That’s how he got Detlef, y’know.” A man named Amon began to loudly recall the tale, since it was his favorite to tell. Out of all the people at Solomon’s place, he was the loudest.

Through the crack in the closet door, I could see them all making themselves comfortable, chugging down endless amounts of alcohol.

It didn’t take long for a weird, sweet smell to drift out and reach me. When I peeked through the crack again, I could see smoke slowly filling the room.

It was like any other night. The group had come together and were retelling old stories like always.

They talked about how Jay sold the good stuff on Second Street, or how Ethan was the one behind that one kidnapping, or how Heiner was the dumbass who got so high he passed out on the streets and froze to death.

Their voices grew louder as they drank, until they became a jumbled chorus of noise.

“That metaverse thing… Did ya try that modded full-dive rig that’s been goin’ around?”

“The one that totally messes ya up, right? Heard it’s way better than a night with a chick.”

As they exchanged those gross words to each other, they attached a strange little device behind their ears and began to let out these strange screams. Their noses bled as they stumbled around and shouted about how good it felt.

Just like animals. Vulgar, disgusting, the absolute worst.

But, if I tried it too… would everything go away? The pain in my missing arms… and everything I can’t stand thinking about… would it all just disappear?

I strained to hear the soft music box sound of Solomon’s voice, but all I heard was cruel laughter. When he was with them, Solomon’s voice stopped sounding melodic.

My toe bumped against something with a soft thunk.

It was a violin case, locked in that closet with me.

I’d known it was there since the first time I was hidden in the closet, but I didn’t actually realize what it was.

The latch on the case was broken, and the violin inside was falling out. Its body was scratched, and only the G-string was left on it.

I wondered why Solomon hadn’t thrown it away.

Maybe he liked things that were on the verge of breaking.

Was that why he kept me there too? Hidden away in the closet… just like that violin?

Beneath the violin case was someone’s abandoned sheet music. A thin beam of light slipped through the crack of the closet door, illuminating part of the page.

Written in square, meticulous handwriting was a single question: “Did you really sell your soul to the devil?”

I recognized that handwriting.

No… No, I didn’t.

Just as I shut my eyes and tried to go to sleep, there was a loud BANG! from above me. Light poured into the closet, forcing me to look up. That strange, sweet smell was getting stronger, and one of those nasty voices was suddenly speaking right in front of me.

“Well, well… aren’t you a cute one?”

It was Amon. His slightly drooping eyes were a pale green, and his swept-back hair was a dull blonde. The arm peeking out from his shirt was etched with tattoos. A rough hand clamped around my face, and I found myself staring up into a pair of sharp, predatory eyes.

Before I knew it, I was being yanked out of the closet.

“So that rumor about Solomon hidin’ a kid really was true.”

“Ya playin’ hide-n-seek? C’mon, let us play too.” Amon’s friends jeered.

I started to break out in a cold sweat.

My heart… the heart that hadn’t ached in so long, suddenly felt like it hurt. It pounded in my chest like a frantic alarm bell.

“That’s my pet.”

That was Solomon’s voice.

When I looked up, I saw that he was drinking with an indifferent look on his face. He took a swig from his beer bottle, then he peered at it to check if there was any left inside.

“Hey, he’s missin’ his arms. ‘S kinda hot.”

Someone let out a low whistle. Amon leaned in close, reeking of booze, smoke, and cheap perfume.

“Is he a music student too?”

“Without any arms? No way.”

Distantly, I could hear their conversation.

“Hey, kid? Wanna get messed up?” Amon asked, lightly tapping the back of my ear.

I’d been looking for something.

What was I looking for?

For Solomon’s music box-like voice…?

…For a cold gravestone?

Or… for the person under the fallen snow… for him…?