Chapter 291: Anamnesis [2]
[Inetermediate Node : Anamnesis]
Upon touching an anomaly, the user glimpses fragments of their forgotten past. The deeper the connection to the past, the greater their power.
‖—[10%]—————‖
"I’m sorry, but I don’t think this will work out."
"...Huh?"
The woman’s face slowly crumpled.
"I’ve thought about it a lot. I want to focus my entire attention on music. As a result, I won’t be able to spend as much time with you. This will, as a result, cause you to resent me, and you’ll probably eventually tell me to stop and pay more attention to you and our daughter. You know I can’t do that, and I can already see that we’re starting to hate each other. It’s best to stop it before it becomes too toxic for our daughter."
The silence that ensued shortly after felt like it dragged on for hours. The woman just stared at the man before her.
Eventually, words left her lips.
"Wha... What? What are you... saying?"
"I want to be perfect."
"But you—"
"Not to you."
The man cut the woman off, his eyes flickering with something between desire and obsession.
"I want my music to be perfect."
The woman took a deep breath, trying her best to maintain her composure.
But it quickly crumbled a few moments later.
"You want to make your music perfect, but in order to do that, you have to abandon your own family? The woman who sacrificed five years of her life raising a child and helping you pursue your dream for music, even though you make no money, and all your shows are empty? Are you saying that I’m the problem?"
The man didn’t even hesitate.
"Yes, that’s exactly it."
"...You’re a monster."
‖——[30%]————‖
"I am here for a reason."
A reflection stared.
Wet hair stuck to the forehead as the water ran in the sink.
His complexion was pale.
His cheeks were sunken.
...And his frame was thin.
"I gave up everything, my wife, my daughter, a thriving career, even my health. But if fading into memory is the price of being remembered, then so be it. I’d rather be broken and remembered than whole and forgotten."
The man slowly turned around, stumbling out of the bathroom.
A muffled tune echoed as he stepped out. It was soft, melodic, and strangely comforting.
"....."
He turned his head slowly, eyes drawn to the narrow gap in the curtain, just wide enough to catch a glimpse of the bright lights spilling over the band as they played.
The music carried on for the next minute before stopping.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
A thunderous round of applause ensued.
It was extremely loud.
So loud that for a moment, he almost couldn’t hear a thing.
But amidst the applause, his gaze remained fixed on the band playing.
He shook his head soon after.
Not good enough.
"Hey!"
A voice suddenly called out for him.
A large man pointed at a box on the ground.
"Stop slacking! Carry this away!"
‖———[60%]———‖
"What do I have besides music?"
A voice echoed within the confines of a small room.
A man and a piano.
Pieces of paper were scattered throughout.
"I’ve already given up my life. My wife. My daughter. My happiness. My everything. What is my worth now that I’ve thrown it all away?"
The voice continued to whisper in the air as the man stared at his own reflection within the piano.
Sweat dripped to the floor as the keys stained red beneath his trembling fingers.
Through his heavily rising chest, the man continued to stare at his own reflection.
"Have I thrown it all away?"
Slowly, his head began to turn.
His gaze eventually fell on one of the papers on the ground.
<A Stirring Symphony of Emotion and Precision. A never-before-seen piece shocks the world!>
<The Orchestra Delivers a Masterclass in Musical Storytelling. What is the reason for their success?>
<An Evening of Elegance, Power, and Pure Sound. Sold out crowd!>
Praise.
Acclaim.
Recognition.
He received it all.
But...
"It’s not enough."
He stared at his hands. They were entirely soaked in blood, with blisters all over. He slowly clenched his hand and tried to feel the pain.
But, nothing.
He didn’t feel a single thing.
"More..."
To Tok—
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
Clank!
A figure came in shortly after.
"Sir."
They looked unbothered by the mess that was before them. Almost as if they had grown used to it.
"The audience has arrived. The band has already warmed up. The show will begin in ten minutes."
"....."
The man remained seated, indifferent to the words.
"I’ve also brought the stuff that you’ve asked of me. Are you sure that you don’t want a tailor to fix your suit? If you wi—"
"No."
Raising his hand, the man went on to grab a small black box from his assistant.
"...This isn’t for the suit."
"It’s not?"
"It’s not."
"...."
Silence followed.
But in the end, the assistant left.
Not another word was exchanged between the two.
"What do I have besides music?"
The man repeated, slowly.
His gaze fell on his own reflection.
"I’ve already given up my life. My wife. My daughter. My happiness. My everything. What is my worth now that I’ve thrown it all away? Have I thrown it all away?"
He paused and turned his attention towards the box in his hand.
Slowly, he opened it.
The moment he did, his gaze fell on the small needle and the embroidery thread.
His breathing quickened.
"...No, I haven’t."
He still had...
"My voice."
His hand trembled as he brought the needle to his lips.
A sharp pain pierced.
Blood spilled.
His hand continued moving.
Gradually, he began sewing his lips shut.
But it wasn’t over.
He still had...
"My sight."
He brought his hand towards his eyelids.
A sharp pain pierced.
Blood spilled.
His vision turned black.
He had lost both voice and vision.
Tik, Tik—!
The needle dropped right after as he gradually stood up.
All sound seemed to heighten in that moment. From the soft tick of the needle to the gentle click of the clock.
The same was true for his touch.
He could vividly feel each droplet streaking down his skin. Be it blood and sweat.
He felt it all.
‖————[80%]——‖
’What do I have besides music?’
A man stood before a stage. The bright lights pressed down on him in all directions.
Blood streaked down from his eyes and mouth.
All eyes were focused on him. Clear looks of horror marred their features as they looked at him. Even his assistant looked the same, but it was also the very same assistant who had helped him towards the stage.
He didn’t care.
He stood at the center, basking in the lights before slowly bringing his baton up.
At this moment, he felt at the center of the world.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and in the silence, he soon heard the quiet draw of everyone’s breath.
’I’ve already given up my life. My wife. My daughter. My happiness. My sight. My voice. My everything. What is my worth now that I’ve thrown it all away? Have I thrown it all away?’
The answer was yes.
And now...
’All I have left is music.’
His baton slowly moved down.
’That is my worth.’
He slashed the baton down.
Wam—!
The music flared to life.
‖——————[100%]‖
I opened my eyes.
Light flared into them.
Eyes looked at me from all directions.
I took a deep breath.
This...