His Connoisseur

Dancing under the tip of a knife

Focusing my slightly wobbly steps on the dance floor, to avoid slipping again, to avoid being caught by that strong grasp of hand again, to avoid being attacked by that intoxicating smile of his again, to avoid being humiliated with my cheeks giving off 20 different shades of red again, I strengthened the force of my feet to stick them onto the surface, certainly without gluing them on place, of course.

The clear glassy melodies produced by the violin strings of the expert violinist have started fading away as time started ticking; the pendulum held inside the case of the antique grandfather's clock swinging on both directions, making those somewhat irritating sounds.

The man I was dancing with right now was eerily; a very quiet person, only locking his gaze on me, which made my heart fluttered and my veins pumping faster than they were supposed to be.

1 2 3, 1 2 3, I was trying to remember the waltz steps that we were performing right now as my stomach started churning out of nervousness, making me taste the berry pancake glazed with syrup I had for breakfast this morning.

But he stayed silent.

Silent still.

Seeming like he didn't want to have even at least a small talk with me, I held my breath, finally mustering the courage to start a conversation.

Asking what his name was.

"May I know what your name is, Sir?"

I said while trying to keep my racing heart calm. Doing the twirling around routine again with our bodies almost crushing against each other's; so close until I could feel his breath murdering my self resistance from smacking our lips together, I patiently, very patiently waited for his reply.

His calm demeanor suddenly vanished in just a matter of seconds, his facial expressions stern, and I could see the corner of his eyes narrowing; his eyes were no longer facing mine. Well, that certainly made me more interested on knowing who the person in front of me was. Biting the bottom part of his lip, I could imagine the scene playing in his head right now.

The gears on his brain were spinning as he figured out how to answer a simple, yet straightforward question.

Emotionless, he finally replied. "I'm afraid that I don't have the honor to reveal my name to His Highness."

His soft voice, a bit hoarse, sexy, but also relaxing at the same time, made my ears twitched in pleasure on hearing the euphonic voice.

He sounded like a melodious song!

It wasn't like I have a brilliant taste in music. I mostly stuck to one genre; classical music, a piano and a violin being its companion, has always been my favourite.

"You don't have to be this modest. I was just asking your name, was it that hard to answer?"

Countless of unanswered questions flooded my mind like a tidal wave. And surely, every question needs an answer.

Or at least,

that's what i thought.

"Simon. Simon Von Stein."

Sighing deeply after that, his nostrils flared; was probably afraid of me unveiling layers and layers of his identity one by one.

I understand that its one's responsibility to respect other's privacy, but I couldn't help it. So I asked him again, bombarding more questions.

"Do you live near here? Why haven't I seen you before?"

"Answering His Highness, this was actually my first time being here in the city."

"Are you going to stay here for a while?"

"... I guess so."

"The address of your place of living...?"

An unreadable look crossed over the handsome face. His eyebrow raising, a sneer curled on the upper corner of his lips that a moments ago had just given a friendly smile.

He looked... quite intimidating.

"Your Highness, sometimes the less you know, the better it is."

Secrets are just one of the thousands other strange things that exists in this vast world.

Sometimes, it will always remain to be one.

That is, until the ropes tying the prisoner weaken, wear down, releasing it from the jail bars, and

Just one day, perhaps one day, it will roam the world, waiting for a person to discover it.