Isolde: I have a small room. It has a simple door.
Isolde: The room is cramped. It's a truly tiny little room.
Isolde: But besides that simple door, there are many, many other doors in this room. Big ones, small ones; hard ones, soft ones; mushy and wet ones; warm and furry ones.
Isolde: They're in front of me. They're behind me. There are so many of them, and more keep coming. They squeeze me.
Isolde: ...
Isolde: Do you know how that feels? To be squeezed by many, many doors?
Isolde turns her eyes to you.
Isolde: I suppose no one in the world has felt what it's like. No one would ever place so many doors in one room.
Isolde: Door after door lies on me, compressing me until my skin, my flesh, and bones squeak under the pressure. I'm enveloped by endless pain, as if my flesh is being torn from my skeleton.
Isolde: When I was a little girl, I read a story about a princess who tried to sleep on a hundred layers of mattresses yet was still kept awake by a single pea beneath them.
Isolde: My father called her the true embodiment of a princess, a good maiden with noble virtue and the most delicate skin in the world. He said that I should be such a lady, both sensitive and polite.
Isolde: But am I that princess?
Isolde: Or that bothersome little pea under a hundred mattresses?
Evangeline: Baby, my child, my darling ...
Mother hugged me, as she always did when overtaken with despair. Theophil had grown up, and Trista was long gone, so I was her only choice.
The day prior, her hysteria had burst out at a banquet, making her shame all the more potent. That's why she came to my room and held me close.
Evangeline: You must always remember Mama's words. Don't you ever forget!
Evangeline: You have to be careful. Don't allow others to see your vulnerability. Don't cry, don't scream, don't lose control ... Don't make a fool of yourself.
Evangeline: Your true self is filthy. Reveal it, and it will hurt youâeven kill you.
Her hands squeezed my arms, quivering. I couldn't help but quiver with her.
Evangeline: It will only make you sufferâkeep you from your dreams and plunge you into nightmares ...
Evangeline: It's a most frightful, terrible beast, and it will tear you apart! Just as it tore me, and your grandmother, and your great grandmother.
Evangeline: You must conceal it, Isolde! Not one girl in our cursed family has been able to survive in this world without doing so. You must follow the rules of society.
I didn't fully comprehend what she meant back then. Curses, rules, concealment ... It was all too complicated for a four-year-old child.
So I asked her what it meant, what I should do.
Evangeline: ...
There was a long silence before Mother spoke, so long that I almost fell asleep in her arms.
In my semi-dreamlike state, I heard my mother's voice. It was soft and distant, as if floating down from a cloud.
Evangeline: You must learn to play a "role" in life, my little Isolde ...
She brushed my hair with her fingers, her face twisted in agony.
She had been dancing in this pair of hot iron shoes for over twenty years, and in this moment, she presented them to me.
Evangeline: You must learn to know what people expect from you. Then, do everything you can to meet those expectations.
Evangeline: You'll have to work harder than anyone else to satisfy the people around you so as to make their "tolerance" of you worthwhile ...
Evangeline: Smile despite your suffering and breakdowns, and walk steadily, even if your feet are crippled, even if the road ahead seems fine to others but in ruins to you ...
She cupped my face in her hands, kissing my forehead and cheeks. Her tears fell on my face like rain.
She was in so much painâfor me and for herself. It was terrifying to wear that pair of burning iron shoes like that. But it was the only way our ancestors survived. It was the only way we would survive.
And that was the first time I saw a "door." It was small and blue, just the right size for a child like me to pass through.
It squeezed into my room like a cat squeezes through a crack in a door. Eventually, I fell asleep in my mother's arms.
It was not the door to the small room.
Karl: A hundred times. That's right, scoop up the soup one hundred times.
It was then that I saw the second door.
Karl: You've done well, my child. See? Your hands have stopped shaking.
Mr. Karl stood by that door. His figure was formidable.
I kept my distance. I didn't like Mr. Karl.
I respected him, but I feared him. He seemed so tall to meâgrander than a palace, more oppressive than a mountain. He haunted my every nightmare.
In those nightmares, he was an entrance to a wide, luxurious ballroom. It was filled with faceless people, all staring at me silently.
Sometimes I was disheveled, barefoot, or naked. But I was always scrambling to cover myself upâto hide my shame.
It's the door to the Dittarsdorf house, and I am the last remaining Dittarsdorf. It is mine alone. Of course it's in the room.
It isn't the door to the small room, either.
Heinrich: Literature.
Theophil: Art.
Heinrich: Poetry. Stage design.
Theophil: Models. Romance.
...
I've never paid much attention to their conversations, but these words summarize the majority of their topics.
Theophil: Oh? What do you think, Heinrich?
Theophil is an enthusiastic and perhaps "kind-hearted" person.
He understood himself to be a noble man and a brother. I cannot deny that he fulfilled his obligations, nor can I deny his foolishness. He spent his days indulging in his pleasures with blissful decadence.
He brought me gifts, like Mayer's hound brought her its prey.
And his eyes glittered just like the hound's did.
I would thank him and take his gifts, which greatly inspired him to go on the hunt once more.
As I'm sure you can tell, he was easily pleased. We had a simple relationship.
Heinrich: Hey, why don't we start an organization together?
Heinrich: I just thought of an excellent nameâ
Is Heinrich a friend of mine or my brother? How did we even come to be friends?
Our parents were close. He and Theophil grew up together. We'd spent long holidays on each other's estates since we were children.
How time had flown. That little chatterbox had become taller than I.
His fervor for conversation, although sometimes grating, was not without benefit, however. He introduced me to many new faces.
Klara: That's a superb name! I'd love to join!
It was he who introduced me to herâmy new friend.
Playwright: Salome ...
...
What can I say about her?
My mother's therapist, the gardener, and Maggie the maid were all her and her father's moles.
Who picked up the trash bags of old handkerchiefs, worn pajamas, and dirty bed sheets that were left outside the gate? Who ate the dead rabbit that signaled my birth?
Does the answer really matter?
They were quiet, sincere, even. They made no demands, no requests.
Like a pebble lying at the bottom of a river or in the gaps of a railroad, they lived in their own world.
They couldn't even stir up a wave, let alone become the straw that broke the camel's back. They impacted no one.
But still, when Mr. Karl's ballroom pressed upon me, so, too, did she slip into my shoe. A small stone. A perpetual annoyance compounding my great pain.
Playwright: My ... muse ...
It's just as Father said.
"Be generous, my daughter. It is an honor that they love you so much."
"Be lenient. Let them be."
Evangeline: Sleep, my darling, safe and sound ...
This is how her story should end, don't you think?
Evangeline: My darling baby ... Trista, Isolde ...
Evangeline: I keep hearing things ... My heart is broken, my joints are screaming ... no, not my joints, my spleen. It feels as though it's ruptured, and there are a million voices shouting in my head ...
Evangeline: What should I do? What should I do!? You need to help me! No, who can help me?
She was in so much distressâso much pain.
My mother, my Evangeline.
She could no longer hold her baby. She could no longer live in the illusion of a forever young Apfelstrudel and Blume. She was like an overfilled glass of wine that finally spilled over, staining the clothes of everyone at the table.
Evangeline: This is "salvation" ... My dear, dear ...
Evangeline: The world is filthy. Just breathing is torturous ...
When she dreamed about Trista, when she saw that sweet smile again, when she relived her death ...
... Mother found the exit of her life.
The door to freedom opened before her. And she was far too kind to leave behind her husband and maids.
Evangeline followed Trista. Theophil followed Evangeline.
One in water, one in fireâthey ended their lives.
Not only had the curse taken Evangeline, but also the two remaining men of the Dittarsdorf family. The curse that had once only plagued my mother's family had truly taken over all the Dittarsdorfs.
People started looking at me with pitiful and prying eyes. Of course, they would gaze at a tragic but wealthy and well-bred girl like that, especially those who had sons of marriageable age.
Karl: Oh, my poor Isolde. Why is this happening to you?
Karl: First your father, then your mother, and now Theophil ...
Mr. Karl wiped his tears with a white hankie. His face ruddy and full, like a peach. The sincerity of his response made him almost charming.
Was he always this way? Where was that stern, harsh gentleman from my memory?
I thanked him, I consoled him, and I shook his hand. This was the Karl my father saw, wasn't it?
I was an adult then. He was treating me as such.
Kakania: Isolde ... Are you alright?
Luckily, there were some more welcome visitors.
A different kind of friend. A friend who stood by my side, a sincere worried expression on her face.
Kakania: Call me anytime, no matter how late it is. Don't hesitate, alright?
...
Isolde: By the way, when you were in the house just now, did you notice a door?
Kakania: A door? What kind of door?
Isolde: It's a door. One of the most common types. No one would notice it was placed in such a big, magnificent mansion.
Isolde: It appeared on the evening of my thirteenth birthday.
Isolde: I vomited on my bed that night. I couldn't digest all that cake and roast chicken. My stomach hurt.
Isolde: Those wandering spirits bent over me, making funny faces and silently clapping as I heaved up my dinner.
Isolde: The guests downstairs were waiting for me. I had to get myself together to go back and thank everyone for celebrating my birthday with me.
Isolde: But I was too tired. I hadn't had a good night's sleep in months.
Isolde: And that was when I came up with the idea.
Isolde: I invited the spirits to fall upon me, whether they were willing or not.
Isolde: I utilized the spirits' proficiencies to do what I couldn't do alone. They helped me flatter my guests, behave well, sing and dance, read and write literature ... They aided me in everything.
Isolde: And I was able to rest.
Isolde: I was finally able to rest.
Isolde: ...
Theophil's funeral is over. More than half of the servants have been let go. Ms. Dittasdorf says she needs some time alone and refuses to receive any visitors.
Isolde crosses the living room, walking straight to the sideboard.
Isolde: Maggie isn't home, so there's no one to take care of Blume, Apfelstrudel, and the nightingale and swan ...
She opens the drawer and takes out a metal box of arsenic powder.
It has been the most deadly poison since the time of ancient Rome until today.
Isolde: They're my responsibility now.
Isolde: Here, Apfelstrudel, Blume, come have some ...
She carries the box over to the tea table by the window and places the box on it.
Isolde: Be graceful, be self-restrained, and be kind to others.
She tilts the tea pot and watches the tea flow into the cup.
Isolde: Be compassionate, especially towards the less privileged.
Isolde: There's nothing to be afraid of. You have the right to leave this ruined world ...
Isolde: We ... must be an example for our people.
Isolde: Oh dear, you're twitching ... It's alright. I'll hold you.
Isolde: We must ...
Isolde drops her eyes. The arsenic powder dissolves in the hot tea as if it had never existed.
She raises the tea cup and slightly lowers her head.
Isolde: We must be virtuous and dignified, as befits our status, Theophil.
In the tea cup, her charred brother gazes at her sorrowfully.
Isolde: Ah ... How careless I am. I almost forgot the date today.
She raises her head and throws the tea cup over her shoulder, splashing her brother's face on the floor.
She picks up her coat from the hanger and walks toward the porch, muttering to herself.
Isolde: My new doctor, my Kakania ... Dr. Kakania.
Isolde: Oh, it appears I've arrived a little early.
It is good etiquette for a lady to arrive early to an appointment.
Isolde: That's alright. I can wait. I have patience.
Isolde: Ms. Kakania ... Oh, I suppose I should call her Dr. Kakania from now on.
She looks up at the closed door.
Isolde: There's no sign indicating that this is the consultation room ... Oh, right, she doesn't have a medical license.
Isolde: Ah, so she's painted the door this color so that the patients can tell where she is. How very clever.
As she waits, Isolde murmurs softly to herself.
Isolde: There are so many doors in this world.
Isolde: Is Dr. Kakania a door, too? What kind of door would she be, I wonder?
Isolde: Would it be green or shining like silk? Perhaps ...
She is interrupted by a familiar voice.
Kakania: Hmm? Isolde?
Kakania: Sorry, I'm late!
Kakania trots over to her, her lively green skirt swaying with each step.
Kakania: I was delayed. You know what I'm like. I swear I'd planned to return earlier to ensure this didn't happen! This is our first consultation, after all! Oh, I so wanted to have a good start to our doctor-patient relationship!
Kakania: I'm really, very sorry. Have you been waiting long?
Kakania: Are you tired? Oh, I shouldn't have kept you waiting under the sun ...
As Kakania continues her apologies, she pulls a golden key with a green ribbon from her waist.
A golden key to the golden lock on the door. She inserts it and turns it. The door opens.
Kakania: Alright, come on in! I'll fetch you a cup of tea.
Kakania enters the side room. Isolde can see her cheerful green dress reflected in the corner of the mirror as she busies herself with the tea.
Isolde: I'm looking forward to it.
There she is, reflected in the Vingler's Mirror, the daughter of a mirror seller. Klara. Dr. Kakania.
She's not a door. I was wrong. Very wrong.
She is a key.
The key that will finally unlock my door.
