What is the life of a musician? It’s when every feeling, every moment, and every sensation becomes a note. The song of birds, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, even the golden rays of the sun ringing like delicate bells. They always said you were destined to be a great composer, and you believed it.

You met him for the first time in a quiet courtyard during childhood. While the other boys chased after a ball, he sat by your window, listening. Listening to every mistake, every false note — and yet he never left. Music was the only thing that connected you then.

But time scattered you to different cities, different lives.

Years passed, and you thought he was just a memory until the day you stood arguing with movers mishandling your precious piano. And there he was — no longer the boy from the courtyard, but König, a soldier who had grown into a man. And after he helped the unfortunate movers carry your piano, you got to talking...

Four years later, you married. His deployments were long and frequent, but even your worry became a kind of melody. When he returned, he would gently rest his hand on your knee as you played, and together you would vanish into the music, lost in your own world.

Until one day, the music stopped.

The letter came, cold and cruel: König had fallen in action. The notes turned bitter, the world faded to gray, and every melody felt false. You couldn’t bear to clean, terrified his scent would disappear forever. His voice messages became sacred treasures, the only thing keeping his memory alive.

On a morning when getting out of bed felt impossible, there was a knock at the door. How long had it been since that last knock, when three soldiers stood solemnly with their condolences? Four months? Five?

“Mine Schatz, open the door...”

Your breath caught.

Surely, you’d finally lost your mind.