68 – Cypress Mosaic

Piano ​music ​flows ​through ​Lorenz’s listening room.

Bach’s ​Goldberg ​Variations.

The ​performer ​is ​Glenn Gould.

It was one ​of ​the pieces Lorenz ​sought whenever he ​needed ​focus ​and ​stability. ​As ​he followed the ​mathematical ​structure ​where a single ​theme is endlessly transformed ​into some ​thirty variations, ​a sense ​of relief ​washed ​over ​him, born from ​an orderly ​world that permitted not ​a single error.

In truth, ​Lorenz did not particularly ​prefer performers ​with ​such strong personalities as Glenn Gould. ​However, that obsessive and ​controlling ​performance—the ​precision ​that ​felt closer to ​a machine ​than ​a human—aligned perfectly ​with ​Lorenz’s tastes.

Normally, while the music ​played, Lorenz ​would ​have followed the ​score ​and ​traced ​its ​structure. In ​that ​process, scattered ​emotions would be organized, and in the ​end, only the ​essence would remain.

To ​Lorenz, essence meant the ​goal.

Emotions, confusion, ​and hesitation were ​merely ​obstacles that blurred ​the essence, impurities ​that needed ​to ​be periodically ​and ​cleanly removed.

But ​today, ​he held ​a ​drawing ​in his hand ​instead ​of a ​score.

A ​rural ​landscape, ​drawn with clumsy skill but with lines and surfaces filled in with great care. It was a simple scene that anyone could tell at a glance was the work of a child.

In the center of the drawing stood a brown cabin, with a forest stretching out behind it. A beetle, [unauthorized copy]drawn roughly the size of stolen contenta monkey, clung to a tree as thick as a shaft. A small sailboat floated on the river in front of the cabin. Fish, drawn excessively large like visit our sitethe beetle, poked their heads above the river or leaped out of the water like dolphins. Some fish were larger than the boat.

And there were people in the forest. Because they were drawn in very simple forms, even smaller than the beetle or the fish, he hadn’t noticed they were people at first. He had thought they were part of the trees that made up the forest. However, unlike the other trees in the forest, which were painted entirely green, only three trees had leaves of a different color. A beige close to brown, a bright gold, and black. Those were hairs.

It was a drawing Lucas had made during playtime with his caregiver.

Even a child who could recite the chronology of American history by heart and lived with a natural history encyclopedia in hand seemed to become nothing more than a child of his age when it came to drawing.

A faint smile appeared on the lips of Lorenz as he stared at the drawing, which completely ignored the laws of perspective.

A moment later, the smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed. Then, they sparkled.

After the long variations, the performance ended by returning to the initial aria.

Lorenz remained motionless for a long time. It wasn’t because of the lingering resonance of the music. He was not even conscious of the fact that he was enveloped in silence.

‘Could it be…’

Only after a long while was Lorenz able to feel certain about the hypothesis that had occurred to him.

Holding the drawing, he rose from his seat. A meeting with Elian awaited him.

“Lucas had lunch down in the dining hall today. With me, in the family kitchen. His range of movement is expanding, bit by bit. The fact that this is a voluntary change makes it a very meaningful progression.”

As usual, the meeting took place in Lorenz’s study.

Elian explained the recent patterns of Lucas’s recovery with gravity. Lorenz, sitting on the opposite sofa with his legs crossed, looked silently at his reliable counselor.

“The fact that he has started drawing again is the same. Children showing symptoms of selective mutism often show changes first through non-verbal expressions, which are relatively less burdensome than verbal expression. Things like music, drawing, or dance. I believe Lucas has approached that stage.”

Elian paused his report for a moment and looked at Lorenz.

Since there were no questions or reactions, he wanted to check if he was being heard.

Judging by the gaze focused entirely on him, he was undoubtedly listening intently. Slightly moistening his lips with his tongue, Elian continued the report.

“Moving forward, I plan to aim for a gradual expansion of his range of movement. That doesn’t mean I intend to suddenly push the child into social situations. For the current Lucas, even the smallest amount of coercion could be counterproductive. The priority is to let him encounter positive experiences repeatedly within an environment where he feels secure that he can maintain control.”

“……”

Still, there was only silence.

Glancing at Lorenz, Elian cleared his throat once or twice. Then, he explained the future direction of intervention in more detail.

“I intend to make suggestions in stages, such as taking a short walk in the mansion’s garden or visiting the rooftop greenhouse.”

“……”

Silence.

Elian’s brief gaze checked Lorenz’s face.

“At the same time, I plan to restructure the timetable so that his means of self-expression can be expanded naturally. Focusing on non-verbal expressions like music, drawing, and dance… as I mentioned earlier.”

“……”

Silence.

A brief glance.

“Since these are mediums through which he can express and release emotions while avoiding the pressure of having to reveal himself directly… they are effective for emotional stability. I expect this will be helpful for Lucas at his current stage. Dr. Morgan has also approved this plan.”

From Lucas’s current stage to the future intervention plan tailored to it.

Finally, Elian delivered all the reports he had prepared. Unless the guardian, Lorenz, asked a question, he had nothing more to say.

Based on his observations so far, Lorenz Lockhart was not at all uncomfortable with silence. Nor did he care if the other person found that silence uncomfortable. Being able to stare blankly at someone while maintaining an uncomfortable silence was a talent in its own right.

Feeling his throat go dry, Elian took a sip of water and finally let out a small sigh, attempting to say something.

“Do you have any questions, Mr. Lockha—”

“Why didn’t you tell me.”

The firmly closed lips finally produced a sound.

However, it was a question that Elian could not understand.

“I mean the part about Lucas starting to draw again.”

“Ah… well, I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”

Because Joshua had suddenly barged in, they had argued, and Lucas had come out of the room… a series of disturbances had occurred in succession.

“You could have told me the next day.”

“Lucas started drawing and came out of the room… since those changes appeared within a single day, I was preoccupied with writing the report for Dr. Morgan and planning the next stage of support. Besides…”

Picking his words carefully, Elian added one more reason.

“I thought you already knew, as I heard it from Margaret.”

Elian’s gaze slid downward. His calm and firm voice seemed to lose some of its strength.

He had wanted to tell Lorenz Lockhart directly. The news that Lucas had started drawing again. That feeling was sincere. But given the circumstances, he couldn’t. Everything had become a mess, contrary to the plan.

“What I mean is, you could have called the next day—”

Lorenz cut him off right there. Staring intently at Elian, he suddenly closed his eyes tight. Then, pressing his eyelids and letting out a long breath, he leaned his head back, making his sharp Adam’s apple stand out more.

Does he think it’s negligence of duty that I didn’t tell him myself? Elian could only vaguely guess.

A moment later, Lorenz’s face returned to an expressionless state as he looked forward again.

“I mentioned it over the phone last time. About the villa in Tarrytown.”

“Yes…”

Another characteristic of Lorenz Lockhart was that he frequently threw out unpredictable topics of conversation.

“That there is a forest right behind it, so one can collect insects or mushrooms, and that one can take a rowboat.”

Elian nodded.

“Yes, I remember you saying the Hudson River flows right in front of it.”

“And that there is a small cabin by the riverbank.”

He remembered Lorenz calling him on a certain weekend after he had visited the house in Brooklyn. But why bring that up now? It became more and more incomprehensible.

After looking at Elian’s puzzled face [Read on Read BL Novels]for a moment, Lorenz rose from the sofa. He visit our sitetook a piece of paper stolen contentfrom the desk and handed it to Elian.

“What do you think this drawing is of?”

As Elian took the paper in a daze, surprise immediately registered on his face. It was almost close to shock.

“Ah…”

The two pupils looking at the drawing wavered like ripples reflecting light.

“I told Mr. Belloti back then. That once Lucas could leave his room, we should go to that villa together.”

Elian slowly raised his head. The two looked at each other. Elian’s lips, slightly parted to say something, trembled faintly.

“Lucas… must have been listening… to that call.”

“Yes. He was by my side.”

Elian looked down at the drawing intently once more. This time, emotion and conviction dwelt in his voice.

“Lucas… came out of his room because of this.”

“……”

“He came out of his room because he wanted to go to the villa.”

As Elian murmured repeatedly, a small glint of moisture sparkled at the corners of his eyes. How much, how desperately did the child want to go there? To the point of summoning such admirable courage. Thinking of the hope and expectation that must have filled that small heart, it was beyond lovely; it was heartbreaking.

Standing beside him, Lorenz hesitantly held something out.

“……”

L.L.

Lorenz Lockhart.

It was a handkerchief embroidered with the initials of his name in an elegant italic script.

He hadn’t shed enough tears to require a handkerchief, but Elian accepted the clumsy kindness.

“If Lucas heard the entirety of your call that day, Mr. Lockhart… wanting to go to the villa isn’t the only thing.”

Lorenz picked up where Elian left off.

“He wants the three of us to go. Because that’s how I phrased it.”

Lorenz and Elian looked down at the drawing together. At the three people in the painting, standing side by side as if holding hands, drawn even smaller than the beetle or the fish.

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