Symphony of transgression

The echo of a woman singing resonated in the room, her voice clear and powerful, like a lament suspended in the air. The notes of the opera floated softly, yet with an intensity that seemed to envelop every corner of the space. Gradually, the sound of the orchestra joined the female voice, creating a majestic symphony that moved like a wave beneath the words.

A man with short brown hair, wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray three-piece suit with red stripes, moved his hands with the precision of a master as he set the plates on the table. His expression was calm and serious.

The other man, sitting across from him, watched each movement calmly, his body relaxed and dressed in a beige three-piece suit. His golden eyes attentively followed not only the act of serving but also the slow and controlled rhythm of the host. The dim light enhanced the shadows on their faces while the music continued to fill the air.

Just as the host placed the last dish in its spot, the echo of the soprano reached a climactic moment, a crescendo that enveloped the room. The guest, taking a glass of wine, allowed a small smile to form on his lips.

"Tannhäuser. Wagner, isn't it?"

The man serving the dishes paused, raising his gaze for a brief moment. His dark, piercing eyes reflected a slight surprise, but the expression on his face remained serene. He took a seat across from his guest, with movements as measured as those he had used to serve dinner.

"You have a fine ear, professor. Not many recognize Wagner right away, though his intensity is hard to ignore."

The guest rested his elbow on the back of the chair, gently swirling the glass between his fingers. His voice was low, almost melodic. His long, white hair fell over his chest and down his back.

"The emotional power of Wagner is not easy for everyone to understand, but I would dare to say that you enjoy it more than its mere grandeur, doctor. You find pleasure in the drama of redemption, in those moments of internal struggle between desire and duty that are so human."

The host paused for a second, evaluating his interlocutor. He lowered his gaze briefly before allowing a very slight smile to cross his face. As he adjusted his napkin on his lap, his tone remained casual but with an unmistakable edge. "An interesting observation. Although I sense that you also know something about those dilemmas. Some observe from a distance, but you seem to prefer to engage, not just to watch."

The guest smiled, almost imperceptibly, as he took another sip of wine.

"Human behavior is fascinating, don't you think? Especially when viewed from the outside. Music is just one of the ways in which those conflicts manifest."

The host watched him silently for a moment, his expression calculated, but his eyes betraying a greater interest. He leaned slightly forward, his tone lower. "It's not something everyone can grasp, is it, Shougo?"

Makishima set the glass down on the table, smiling.

"I would dare to say that I'm not the only one observing from the outside, Doctor Lecter."

Allowing an almost imperceptible smile to form on his lips, Hannibal raised his glass of wine with a fluid motion.

"Bon appétit," he said in a soft tone.

Without losing his rhythm, he lowered his gaze to the plate in front of him, and with the same precision he had shown when serving the dishes, leaned slightly to offer a portion to his guest. The warm aromas of the food mingled with the music, just as the soprano reached a high note that reverberated in the air.

Hannibal cut a small piece of the meat in front of him, bringing it to his mouth with an almost deliberate slowness, savoring each texture before speaking again, his tone equally calm. "It's interesting how certain experiences can awaken the most primitive instincts in man," he remarked, keeping his gaze fixed on the plate for a moment before lifting it to his guest. "Pleasure, fear, euphoria... they all have their roots deep within our nature. Not so different from how flavors can evoke memories, wouldn't you agree?"

Makishima took a sip of wine, his subtle smile remaining unchanged, but his eyes sparkled.

"The right stimuli can awaken what remains dormant in many, but not in all. For some, certain instincts are always close to the surface, waiting for a propitious moment to reveal themselves. It's like... the tension before a high note in a symphony. It just needs a push to burst forth."

Hannibal nodded, his sharp gaze scrutinizing every word of his interlocutor, but without haste.

"So, do you believe that these instincts are inherent in everyone?" He asked, cutting another piece of meat and slowly bringing it to his mouth. "Or perhaps there are those, like the most exceptional composers, who are born with a special tuning for what others cannot even perceive?"

Makishima let out a soft laugh, barely audible over the background music, and set his wine glass down on the table.

"I would say that some have a more refined ear for the nuances that others overlook. Most people follow the scores of their lives in a monotonous way, unaware of the potential that lies in the dissonant notes. But those who recognize that hidden music... create something unique."

Hannibal allowed the silence to linger for one more second, as if weighing his next words with utmost care. His gaze, though polite, sparkled with clinical interest.

"It's intriguing how you express that," he finally said. "Most would find danger in that freedom to alter the melody, fearing what they might discover. But it seems you have found satisfaction in those moments of dissonance."

Makishima smiled, an almost enigmatic gesture, but did not respond immediately. Instead, he took another bite, chewing slowly before letting his gaze meet Hannibal's.

"Let's say I have always appreciated the freer interpretations, doctor. But you know this very well. Not everyone has the capacity to enjoy the complexity in an altered melody."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, with dark, penetrating eyes.

"Complexity is indeed a luxury that few appreciate. Some prefer to live in a constant state of simplicity, ignoring the nuances that could enrich their lives... or condemn them. But you seem to be someone who is not afraid to explore those limits."

Makishima rested his elbows on the table, his smile still present, but his golden eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge.

"I would dare say you share that taste as well, doctor. Do you believe that the creation of something sublime always requires a touch of transgression?"

"Some of the most memorable works have come from minds that dared to cross boundaries. True genius lies in knowing which line to cross... and how to do so with grace."

Makishima remained still, closely observing every feature of Hannibal's face. After a brief moment of silence, a slight smile began to curve Hannibal's lips. Makishima let his own smile fade slowly. Their gazes remained fixed, unmoving, as if both were recognizing in each other a reflection of themselves.