God of Piano

“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. We will talk later.”

“——!”

Julieta looked angry. It was worth it. If you’ve come this far and chased them out in front of the door, would you understand that? But Beethoven had no choice but to do so. He ran past Giulietta and entered the room as if running away. Just before closing the door, Giulietta’s back, not looking back, gave him a foreboding feeling, but his insistence that he couldn’t find out about his ear disease forced the door to close.

That day, Beethoven had to spend the night with his eyes open in a world without sound. The next day, the doctor handed Beethoven a hearing aid and said,

“Now you’re really going to have to use this. It will help you hear the sound. But sir. As I said before, you need to give your ears a break now. Why don’t you live a country life?”

“……Can I get better if I do that?”

“There are no guarantees. But still, it could be a way to prevent deterioration. If there is a miracle from God, maybe I can recover a little more.”

“All right.”

Beethoven meekly agreed. He was already too tired to argue with the doctor.

“I will.”

Beethoven visited the square again that day. This time, it was to find the little boy he had left behind. But the kid was nowhere to be seen. The next day and the day after that. Giulietta was also no longer looking for Beethoven. Her attendant even came to him and told him that he would not be able to teach for a while.

In a way, it was good to see that a perfect situation for seclusion was gradually being created. Beethoven slowly let go of his mind. And it was around that time. Around the time he was preparing to leave for Heiligenstadt for country life, Beethoven encountered the little boy again.

“······ah. You are here.”

The kid didn’t say anything. He just stared at Beethoven. It was an empty eye somewhere. Like Beethoven’s eyes.

“I have prepared something to tell your mother.”

“······late.”

The kid replied so. Before Beethoven could guess the meaning of the words, the kid continued.

“You are gone. A week ago.”

“······is it.”

“Listen to me though. I want to see what you were trying to say to my mother.”

“Okay.”

It will be okay, or it will be okay, not the same thing. Okay. I wonder if the kid can guess the meaning of the words, but the kid repeated Beethoven’s words without saying anything. And laughed mischievously.

“Did that one word take this long?”

“Have you not heard of it? Cranky Beethoven.”

Beethoven replied in a dry voice.

“I am not good at talking.”

“I know that.”

After saying that, the little boy glanced at Beethoven’s ear.

“Teacher, don’t you have bad ears?”

“…”

How did you know, no, I didn’t say that. In a completely unexpected place, an unexpected person revealed her private parts. But even so, Beethoven was not heavy-hearted. Just looking at the little boy, he quietly gave a smile to someone who had experienced all the pain in the world. The little boy nodded slowly.

“I will also say something to such a teacher.”

“what?”

“are you okay.”

what is okay What is the difference between Beethoven saying it’s okay and the kid saying it’s okay? Beethoven thought no further. And he answered.

“okay. thanks.”

The kid turned around. Perhaps they will never meet again. Even if you meet, you won’t have a conversation pretending to be friendly. Their relationship has ended here and now. It was a small and short relationship. But for some reason, Beethoven had the feeling that he would never forget this relationship.

It was a fortnight after that. Beethoven was ready to leave for Heiligenstadt. And, around that time, Julieta came to visit him.

“······teacher.”

“Yes, Julieta.”

“Why didn’t you catch me? that day.”

If I had to make excuses, I could have made excuses. There was no certainty in your mind. I couldn’t hear. I didn’t even want to meet you in a dizzy state. But Beethoven didn’t. He just stared at Julieta.

“I am leaving for Heiligenstadt. I contacted you saying that the lesson is no longer possible.”

“Is it just my imagination that I thought there was something between us?”

“It was a mistake on all of us.”

Beethoven smiled sadly.

“I really liked that illusion.”

Maybe all relationships are illusions. Just like Giulietta said, thinking that we know each other is an illusion. Giulietta looked at Beethoven like that, then looked down at the ground and said.

“Please write.”

“······okay. I will.”

“I’ll find you. often.”

“It won’t look nice.”

“There is one thing, the teacher is mistaken.”

Julieta smiled faintly.

“The teacher wasn’t very nice here either.”

ate a room Beethoven smiled and looked at Julieta. And he held out his hand. Instead of hugging or kissing, he offered a handshake.

“thanks. Julieta.”

“…”

The handshake was brief. Beethoven entered the room, as he had left Giulietta before. It wasn’t long before the coachman arrived. Heiligenstadt was waiting for him. While organizing things like that, Beethoven suddenly straightened his back and made a strange expression.

Moonlight flooded the room.

＜ Moonlight (4) ＞ End

＜ Moonlight (5) ＞

“I heard that man is Beethoven.”

“huh? Such a humble nobleman?”

“Looks like you’re sick. That’s why he doesn’t respond when you talk to him, and he usually stays at home, only to be seen when he’s out for a walk.”

“Huh, what kind of disease could such a great nobleman have come to such a rural area?”

The residents of Heiligenstadt who saw Beethoven always talked like that. Their whispers of curiosity, envy, and envy did not reach Beethoven’s ears. If he had been able to hear them all, Beethoven would never have come this far.

But even so, Beethoven couldn’t be unaware that they were talking about him. No matter how much he tried not to pay attention, Beethoven couldn’t help but be caught up in the thoughts that came to him every now and then. what are they talking about Are you looking at him funny? Is he lamenting that his era is over, or is he laughing at him?

As with thoughts, the longer they lasted, the more they dragged him down into the darker swamp. It was the country life I chose to rest my ears, but even if my ears were dry, it didn’t mean I could rest my heart.

Beethoven devoted himself to composing. When the sound of the piano faded, he brought out the sounds engraved in his life. Even without relying on his ears, he still had a better understanding of what sound was.

Of course, I couldn’t help but feel miserable. His absolute hearing, which could not be compared to any other musician, was like that of a criminal.

But that didn’t stop me from making music. I couldn’t rest. At that moment, Beethoven knew that an incomparable melancholy would overtake him.

Composition was never a happy and ecstatic work. It was a duty and a responsibility. Express yourself. Prove your worth. It was not that such a heart was not in Beethoven’s heart, but the thought that most strongly drove Beethoven was that he had to reveal this gift of God within him, this overwhelming and divine melody to the world. The compulsion to live a life worthy of the blessings given to him plagued him.

─ Sir, this is Julieta.

And, in such a desolate life, the only thing that comforted Beethoven’s heart was Julieta’s letter.

─ I won’t ask how you are doing. I know you must be having a hard time. If you ask me the same question, I will answer not much different from you. The days are always long and the nights even more so. After a day of hard work, another day awaits. I miss the lessons I thought were boring, and I want to hear the teacher’s blunt voice that I felt sad at times.

─ I heard the story. You may not be happy that I know this, but your illness is lingering in your ears and nowhere else. Believe it or not, hearing that story kept me awake for about a week. I know how great your music is, and I know how much you shine when you sit in front of the piano or when you put a pen in front of the music sheet, but the sound is getting farther away from such a teacher. I learned that blaming God is a bad habit, but I confess, I dare to blame God now.

─ Recover. teacher. This is no consolation. It is a request and a request. More than teachers need music, music needs teachers. The citizens of Vienna would no longer know what it meant to be someone’s audience without a teacher.

─ So hopefully, sir.

─ I hope you feel better.

In some ways, it was kind, but in other ways, it was a harsh letter. But Beethoven needed both that gentleness and harshness. I wondered if I had to receive it from a lover who was already half over, but even he was grateful because even though the relationship was over, his heart wasn’t over.

As time passed, Beethoven’s heart sank more and more. I thought I would be able to hold on to the music even though the sound would go away. But it wasn’t that easy. As much as he had a keen sense of hearing, Beethoven’s music depended more on his hearing. And now that hearing has been blurred, the music has no choice but to be blurred together.

I felt lost. No, he’s actually lost. The question was whether they could ever find their way back. Beethoven tried to hold on to optimism, but the more he did, the more he had to face reality.

Can a deaf musician really make good music? Can a blind artist paint a good picture? This is a question that even a child can easily answer.

Optimism crumbled, and so did hope. His complexion grew darker day by day, and his nerves grew sharper, and he would stare at anyone with a stern expression when he spoke to him.

And what day was it night. Beethoven was sitting in front of his desk, as usual. Sitting in front of the piano was rather a hindrance. Because the sounds his consciousness remembered were clearer than the sounds his ears felt, it was often more convenient to sit in front of a desk if he wanted to compose.

But today, Beethoven didn’t pick up the pen to write songs. Beethoven felt that there was too much stuff inside him. had to unravel I thought about how to solve it for a long time, but the answer I got at the end was as follows.

#

To my brothers, Carl and Johann Beethoven.

To say that I am self-righteous and hate people, how could you wrong me more than that?

Since childhood, my soul and heart have been filled with the desire to pursue good will.

But my misfortune has made me inevitably misunderstood, so that I cannot have a calm, orderly conversation or exchange of ideas with my friends. I have no choice but to live alone, like an outcast.

When people are together, I’m afraid that my problems will be exposed to them.

What an insult it is that when the person right next to me listens to the sound of the flute, I can’t even hear him.

So if I die later, tell my friends about my condition. And I’m not mean to them, let them know that they don’t understand me. Please tell me how this musician with an ear infection did his best within his limitations.

But don’t worry, my end will certainly not end in suicide. Before I pour out all the music given to me, I have no right to do so.

#

Beethoven’s letters and wills were like that. He waited for the rest that would come after death, but he knew that God’s gift to him was too valuable to commit suicide.

However, rather than writing this will because he wanted to send it to them, the feeling was stronger that Beethoven wrote it because he wanted to organize everything himself. Beethoven was no longer afraid of death. No, rather, I felt clearly while writing the will that he was rather waiting for death.

Then what is there to be afraid of? Of course life is painful. Trying to follow music with deaf ears is not difficult, it’s terrible. But I had to chase. Because he is Beethoven. Because it’s the eccentric Beethoven.

Numerous musical notes were covered with musical notes and then discarded. The heart collapsed several times, but Beethoven did not care about the collapse. It’s been a long time since everything collapsed.