The Pianist of the Lost Hearts

Chapter III

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat when he heard Papoila's reply. His black eyes were filled with confusion, not fully understanding whether to be trusting or disbelieving.

"What?"

Those were the only words the musician managed to utter.

"You heard right, freshman."

Ludwig rested his hand on the cold, rough surface of the wall, trying to organize the thoughts swirling in his mind.

"What do you mean... Are we inside a music box?" He tried his best not to raise his voice at that hour of the morning. "How is that even possible? Are you trying to make me look crazy?"

"No, you're already crazy if you managed to get into this place."

"Papoila." Her brother scolded her, staring with an intense look transparent in his emerald eyes.

"Did I tell a lie?" She returned the look. "Not that I know of."

Lírio placed his hand on his forehead and massaged it, whispering to herself:

"I can't even believe she's the oldest."

"Lírio, I heard that."

The platinum man rolled his eyes and returned his focus to Ludwig.

"What exactly do you know about this place?"

Ludwig exhaled deeply, with his gaze focused on the void, running the tips of his fingers through his black hair, at the same time organizing all his memories and thoughts that he had lived in those last few hours.

"I was on a trip away from the capital. I needed to hm... To organize my thoughts away from... Too many people." As he spoke, he gestured with his hands, hoping he managed to convey everything clearly. "I was just in a house near a wood, I was in my office and suddenly I heard the melody. The melody took me to a part of the forest that I didn't know, to a village, where the music came from the center of it, in a house and simply..."

"You went in."

He caught his breath.

"Yes, that was it."

Papoila looked at Lírio, still with her arms crossed and with an analytical gaze.

"It was like you said little brother, it looks like we have another Lost Heart here."

The Asian looked at them, even more confused.

"Lost heart?"

Papoila, observant, asked:

"When you were a child, did you never hear of the legend of the Pianist of Lost Hearts?"

The composer felt a leap in his chest, feeling the weight of the reviewer's words that had warned him the day before, reliving the looks, beliefs and words uttered in the carriage of that express train.

"That..." After long seconds of unbreakable silence, words had the courage to come out of the musician's lips. "That is true? But how? It's just a fairy tale..."

"The Pianista's music has an effect, let's say... Unique." The platinum interrupted him, explaining. "It has a rare power to attract the lost, those who have given up on life and love. It's as if her music works like a lighthouse, attracting those who need it most."

Lírio closed his eyes, thinking about what his next words would sound like:"However, the lost ones don't know that from the moment they accept the light of her music, they accept to give their heart, their freedom, being locked in this music box, making it their new home." He glared at him, disenchantment etched on his delicate face. "There's nothing more we can tell you, because we don't even know."