theBeginning...

THE MUSIC came soft, haunting and sweet –a rich sound to his ears. The melody was simple, yet beautiful as it resonated through the walls of the academy. Eyes closed, Lee Yoonsung continued to play the violin as he had been doing for the past hour. It was propped up against his shoulder, his cheek resting on top as the slow movement of the bow sounded the notes of the unbroken melody.

He was standing in the middle of his dorm room playing through his own composed melody, something which -now that he thought about it- reminded him of the lullaby his surrogate mother used to sing when he was at the Golden triangle. The room he had stayed in since he had first come to the academy was different from everyone else’s. It was across the hall from the infirmary and had originally been intended as a classroom of sorts; but over the years, was rendered useless. At least until Yoonsung had arrived. He sighed.

It was like this every day for him. Well, ever since he had found out the truth. He’d get up in the middle of the night after many sleepless hours, to simply play the violin. Sometimes, he’d even open the window and let the pale wash of moonlight spill into the room while he played. It was a way to forget all that pained him –the death of his real mother Kyung Hee; the news of Yoonsung’s own dying body. Worst of all, was the feeling that he’d eventually leave Kim Nana behind too. He couldn’t bear to imagine what it would have been like if the situation was reversed.

Will you be all right?

The unbidden thought came and he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, breaking his concentration. The music halted –though only briefly- and he sighed, remembering the way Nana had looked at him the one time she had accidentally witnessed one of Yoonsung’s coughing fits.

No, Yoonsung knew he wasn’t going to be all right. It was inevitable now.

Even so, he couldn’t tell her the truth. What was the saying? Sometimes you have to lie to protect the ones you love. Yes, that was it.

As a young boy, Yoonsung had never understood the full meaning of it. He had believed it was stupid. Pointless. He had wondered how anyone could protect those they loved, by lying to them. Not anymore.

Closing his eyes, Yoonsung lifted the violin and began playing again. It was only a matter of time before everyone else would wake up for breakfast.

After that, classes would begin.

*  *  *  *  *

Finally tired from playing, Yoonsung placed the violin down in its velvet case and sat on the end of his bed. He ran a hand through his tangled, brown hair. He was still restless from the lack of sleep. Another hour had passed, yet exhaustion had not overcome him. Glancing at the mirror across the room, he saw without surprise, that his reflection looked worse. His eyes had a haunted look about them; the dark circles beneath, evidence of his illness taking its toll. It was a contrast to the soft brown of his eyes.

It had been a while since he had last taken his medicine. You could tell. For his usually flushed cheeks had become a pasty white –completely drained of colour. Since the days of his illness, he had looked this way. Thin and enervated.

As if on cue, he felt a familiar pain rise in his chest. It was the first sign. Then the urge to cough grew until he was unable to hold it in any longer.

That was the second sign.

Without warning, Yoonsung suddenly doubled over; sliding to the floor as rasping coughs shook his small frame. His body seemed to spasm awkwardly as he gasped for air, trying to fight against the explosive fit of coughing.

It was no use. The only way to stop it was to have his medicine before too much damage was done.

Before it was too late.