Track 2 - “The Violinist on the Rooftop”

Amon’s fingers brushed against my earlobe. They were longer than I’d expected.

His fist was deformed, its bones crushed into a shape I’d never seen before.

His eyelashes were a faded blonde color, draped over pale green eyes.

A sound filled my head.

What was it? Some kind of… music.

At that moment, a loud crash echoed through the air… and Amon crumpled to the ground right before my eyes.

“That’s my pet.”

I’d thought Solomon was drunk, but he’d swung the beer bottle in his hand and smashed it down against Amon’s skull. The bottle shattered.

With a glazed look in his eyes, Solomon burped, swaying on his feet while glaring down at Amon.

“Th’ fuck is your problem, Solomon?!” Amon roared before lunging at him.

Solomon shoved the jagged bottle toward his face and, without an ounce of hesitation, kicked Amon hard in the groin. Clutching himself, Amon doubled over and fell to his knees on the floor.

The other men in the room rushed to get between the two. It took three of them to wrestle Amon back and haul him toward the door.

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?! Don’t fuck with me, pussy!” Amon kept swearing as he was dragged away.

“Get lost, shitbags!” Solomon snapped, chasing them all out.

I sank to my knees in a daze. The room had gone eerily quiet after all the chaos.

“Damn it…!” Solomon hissed as he spat on the ground. He swept up the remaining beer bottle on the table and shattered it.

His face was pale as he paced restlessly around the room. Then, he clawed at his hair, grabbed his coat, and stormed out.

He didn’t even glance my way.

I couldn’t bring myself to call out to his retreating back.

Maybe that was why… the lid on my repressed memories was forced open, and I remembered his back as he waved goodbye to me on that snowy night.

…I’ll come join you. I thought.

“…dzio. Tadzio!”

A voice reached me from the rift between dreams and reality.

“Kuguri!”

The bathroom door opened, and Solomon appeared. He’d returned after being gone for two whole days.

When he saw me sitting in the bathtub, he let out an obvious sigh of relief. However, almost immediately after, he squinted at me.

“What are you doing?”

“…I thought I’d be more comfortable here.”

“You look awful. You probably haven’t eaten anything these past two days, have you?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Solomon looked like he was in worse shape than I was. His face was littered with bruises, and the hair he was so proud of was a mess. Even the coat he wore was filthy and caked with dust.

As I took in the sight of him, Solomon said something I couldn’t tell was a truth or a lie.

“I bit off Amon’s ear. Piercings and all.”

For some reason, he seemed proud of that. He looked like one of those tropical birds that was good at dancing, freely and whimsically fluttering its wings to its own song.

Solomon hummed his usual tune, this time making up lyrics as he went. As he sang, he freshened up the bath, got in with me, and began to wash my head and body.

“If you had fingers, I’d make sure to scrub between them too…” he murmured. Then, with an amused huff, he added, “I suppose if you still had fingers, you wouldn’t be in a place like this.”

He asked if I wanted to put my prosthetics back on, but I refused.

After we got out of the bath, Solomon helped me back into my pajamas before putting on his own. For some reason, he suggested we go to the roof.

When we climbed up onto the rooftop, there was nobody there but us.

Past the old iron fence, the slum’s buildings were pressed close together, creating a meager nightscape that spread out into the distance.

Countless sounds reached my ears… the revving of motorcycles, voices shouting, the sharp cries of women soliciting customers, the breaking of glass, and the bumping of club music…

I subconsciously picked up on the sounds that I heard, trying to play them on the keys of an imaginary piano… before I remembered I didn’t have arms.

Oh, right… I couldn’t play anymore…

“Tadzio, what’s your home country like? Are there places as dirty as this?” Solomon asked, pulling an apple from his pocket and taking a bite.

I murmured a reply, and he held the apple up and offered some to me too. I bit the apple right where he had, only needing to crane my neck since I didn’t have my prosthetics on.

“Take a bigger bite,” Solomon said, despite his bite not being that big.

We took turns eating the apple for a while until only the core was left. Then, Solomon tossed it indifferently into the abyss beyond the iron fence.

Leaning against the cool metal, I watched as the core disappeared into the night.

Somewhere in my chest, I felt a pang of envy.

Solomon looked at me, propping his chin on his palm.

“You probably think that this is the worst pain you could go through, huh, Tadzio…”

Not quite understanding what he meant, I looked over at him. He had a split lip. Did Amon hit him?

His brown hair fluttered in the night breeze, carrying the cool scent of soap.

“It must’ve hurt to take a fall like that, but you’ll understand eventually. You’ve still got your feet planted on the ground. Compared to real despair, this pain isn’t anything.”

Real despair…?

I froze.

An emotion I couldn’t name welled up within me.

My body shook.

Solomon thought I wasn’t in despair…?

Wasn’t in despair?!

Even though I’d lost my arms and the piano… even though I’d lost him…?

“I’ve fallen enough,” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

My throat hurt, like there was something wedged inside.

Solomon barked out a laugh.

“You haven’t fallen at all yet. The world out there is way worse than this. You’re still just a pure brat.”

“I know how cruel this world can be… You don’t know the kind of hell I’ve been through—”

“Whatever you say, kid.”

Solomon shrugged off what I had to say. I hated him for it.

I wanted him to realize that I’d been ruined for a long time.

“You’re a pussy.” I spat, trying to use the same insult Amon had used.

Solomon’s lips curled up into a crude grin before he asked, “Do you even know what that means?”

I went quiet. The silence stretched out between us.

Not long ago, when it had just been the two of us, Solomon would’ve been singing, and I hadn’t minded that. Now, only the stillness of the night surrounded us.

Solomon’s gaze remained fixed on me.

His blue eyes caught the glow of the rooftop bulb, making them look strangely clear.

“Having torn up wings dangling off your back like that must hurt…” Solomon whispered after a moment. “I’ll cut them off for you.”

After saying that, he left me there alone on the rooftop. In my solitude, I realized just how foolish I’d been.

Anger welled up within me.

I would never let anyone use me like that again.

At least, that’s what I thought.

I desperately shoved myself against the iron fence, trying to haul myself over it.

If Solomon was going to say that I hadn’t fallen yet, then I would just have to prove it. I would show him that I’d fallen so deeply into despair that I was willing to throw myself off that rooftop.

But… the fence was too tall. Without my arms, I couldn’t climb it.

I repeatedly slammed my shoulder harshly against the iron. I must’ve looked ridiculous, mindlessly thrashing about like that.

At some point, Solomon had returned. He watched me and laughed. I probably looked angry when I turned to look at him. My body was slick with sweat, and my bangs stuck to my damp forehead.

For some reason, he was holding his violin… the one with only the G-string from his closet.

“You wanted to jump? I knew you couldn’t.”

The way Solomon mocked me made something inside me twist with frustration.

He brought the violin to his shoulder, tuning the lone string it had left before he spoke.

“Listen to this before you die.”

As the first note rang out, a calm feeling settled over me for a moment.

“You play?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“I wouldn’t be holding it if I didn’t.”

“I thought you only played the piano…”

“Too bad. This is what I mainly play.”

“My father was pretty passionate about it,” Solomon continued. “In fact, he was so passionate that it felt like a curse. Every day felt like torture. You understand how that feels, don’t you?”

“…”

I stayed quiet.

“Your playing brought back some memories,” Solomon said, feigning indifference. “I took up piano out of spite. Want to know how that worked out?”

He plucked the violin string with a sharp twang. “As you can see, I’ve gone completely rotten.”

With that, he bowed dryly. It was such a beautifully executed bow and scrape¹ that, for a moment, I could almost see a concert stage behind him. Even the low note he’d just tossed out in jest was enough for me to realize how clear his tone was.

Without any warning, Solomon began to play. With nothing but the G-string, he effortlessly and skillfully played a piece. His technique was almost inhuman.

One time, when he was drunk… I remembered him playing one of Liszt’s more difficult pieces that still carried Paganini’s style.

“The more drunk he gets…”

In the back of my mind, the memory of his voice resurfaced.

Slow and steady, pain bloomed within me.

Not from the arms that I lost… but from my heart, my head, my eyes, and somewhere deep in my nose.

I knew the piece Solomon was playing. It was the song he always hummed.

The melody was the same as the one in the handwritten sheet music I’d found in the closet.

…The song that was fit for a music box. The one with the neat, careful handwriting left on the score.

I… recognized that handwriting.

“Someone wrote that song,” I said as Solomon finished the piece with a hum. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yeah. Someone serious and stubborn wrote it. When I was tight on money and tried to sell this balka…” Solomon lightly tapped at the violin before he added. “He bought it from me.”

He shrugged, as if his sheet music meant nothing to him.

My breath caught.

I didn’t want to hear any of it anymore. I didn’t want to know.

“Maybe he liked my music,” Solomon continued like he was trying to taunt me.

Trying to taunt me? Maybe he was taunting me.

Or was he? After all… he…

I looked up to see Solomon leaning against the iron railing, gazing at me. His hair ruffled in the night breeze. A fresh, soapy scent lingered in the air.

Someone… sent Solomon a song meant for a music box…

“Can’t die yet, can you?” Solomon chuckled.

The look on his face… was cruel. It was as though he was just waiting to watch me suffer.