Writing the last note of a new song I've been composing for three years, I was able to make a successful song. Now all I had to do was play it.
The song, if you might ask, is about a composer who was suffering from a fatal disease and, before his death, composed a song. He played it a week before his last days, and everyone in the city listened to it. Everyone, that is, except for one: the one he wanted to have listen to the song, his true love whom he had lost. He played it once more, she still didn't hear it. He played it again and again and again, yet she still didn't hear it. And alas, his body can no longer cooperate with him, and his last day had come. Then he closed his eyes forever, the love of his life still not having heard of his last song.
If you ask, I have entitled this song, "The Last Song" since this is the last song I'll ever make and play before I officially quit music.
Quitting is all for the sake of me not feeling the pain the composer felt if Elizaveta Héderváry wouldn't hear me playing this song.
It was all ever since she married that Gilbert Beilschmidt. And because of that, she never got to hear what I've composed for her.
Three in the morning. Elizaveta was asleep. I went out of the house and stood in front of a cliff. But before I jumped, I wondered what good will happen if I was gone. I thought of Elizaveta having a family with Gilbert. The family with them is a happy one, indeed. And I definitely know that I have to be gone.
"Roderich!"
It was Elizaveta.
"Roderich, what are you doing?" She asked me.
"I was gonna jump off the cliff. Why do you-"
I was cut off by a slap.
"Were you really..." Elizaveta was in tears. "...going to do that?"
I bowed my head in shame. "What would happen if I did?"
She couldn't say anything.