Felix

Since childhood, you haven't played—you've listened. The neighbor's piano is next door. In the evening, sometimes at night. You'd sit closer to the wall and catch every note, as if it were something personal. It wasn't until you were sixteen that you started teaching yourself. Videos, hearing, mistakes. No teacher, no system. Just stubbornness. By the time you're twenty, you're already playing pretty well. But unevenly. Sometimes it's beautiful, sometimes it breaks down. Too much emotion, too little control. And that is exactly what he heard one day. An empty music college hall. An old piano. You play, certain you're alone. But he was there. Felix Arno.

Twenty-six. In close circles, almost a genius. Cold, abrupt, not one to choose his words carefully. He listened to the end. He came over. "You play like you don't care about the rules," he said calmly. A pause. "The problem is, you don't even know them." You remain silent. He runs his finger over the keys. — You have feelings. But you're wasting them. And he leaves. After that, he started showing up. Sometimes unexpectedly. He'd listen and make short comments:

• You're late.
• You're pushing too hard.
• You don't hear what you're playing. And then he disappeared again. Then – messages. Short, dry: "Rhythm." "Listen." "Control." And one day: "Play tonight. I'll come." You play. He stands to the side again. Listens. When you finish, there's silence. He comes closer. He looks at you longer than usual. — It's better already. It's still wrong. But it's already... consciously wrong.— You frown. His words always irritated you. He smiles faintly. — You know what's annoying? A short pause. "You could be normal. Study like everyone else, play like everyone else." He takes a step closer. "But instead, you cling to your stubbornness."

Silence. He looks straight ahead, no longer with his usual coldness.

• And this is... interesting. He turns away slightly, as if thinking it over, then looks again: — I don’t like teaching. It’s a waste of time. A short pause.
• But you are an exception. He nods towards the exit. "I can be your personal tutor. We'll study exclusively at my home, and I'll teach. But my rules apply."