OTKL 24

Chapter : 24

The Musician and the Singer

Terencio, standing at the very center of the stage with his hand wrapped around the long, rod-like microphone, loosened the knot of his already slack tie a few more times. The languid accompaniment flowing from the record he had just put on seeped into the crowd.

He could feel every gaze in the hall settling on him. Even the guests who had still been focused on their meals turned their heads at the sudden hush, exchanging glances of growing interest. Terencio lowered his eyes without the slightest tremor.

It was Alperil who wore the strange expression—as if she might tightly squeeze her eyes shut at any moment. The idea that anything could come out from between those firm-looking lips was unthinkable.

— Feel my love.

That solid belief shattered the moment the first soft syllable slipped out.

— Come on, take my hand,

— Your warmth will make this world a little happier.

Alperil blinked, dazed. His voice, pitched higher and sweeter than the heavy tone she was used to, rang out. Not a weighty opera aria, but a popular tune—one of those overly common love songs.

The man’s face, visibly melting, trembled with tenderness, his polished shoe tapping in time beneath his tall frame. The corners of his mouth curved as the seductive lyrics flowed out.

Terencio’s tone fit the romantic music perfectly, and delighted gasps burst from all around. Even to her own eyes, tonight’s young master was astonishingly captivating. A breeze need not blow—something soft and fluttering drifted through the crowd all the same.

Two women dressed like exotic dancers suddenly stood, wearing playful smiles, and approached a group of gentlemen in felt fedoras at the back table.

They caught a sudden waft of perfume, and without hesitation the men wrapped arms around their waists with practiced ease. The cluster drifted toward the side of the empty stage, embraced, and began stepping in time to the slow beat.

Several others paired off without much deliberation, mounting the stage and moving as their hearts led them. Most had never even made eye contact with one another before the young master’s music began.

— Come on, take me.

Alperil quietly closed her eyes. For a moment, all noise and chatter vanished, leaving only Terencio’s song ringing through space. When the instrumental break halted, a dry breath escaped his lips.

Even without singing, the honeyed mood remained. At Mrs. Bandit’s satisfied nod signaling that she would change the record, Alperil suddenly rose.

More than a few eyes turned her way. The man who seemed completely absorbed in the music and the crowd widened his eyes slightly, realizing she had been watching.

With a faint narrowing of her eyes, she sent him a signal, then walked forward—unshrinking, graceful. Her heels clicked lightly as she ascended the stairs and stopped before the piano, its lid still closed.

“Footsteps of Love… It only needs four chords to play, right?”

Her careful question, so at odds with the confident air she had seemed to wear with a bit of drink, tugged the corner of Terencio’s mouth into a habitual curve. Bowing to meet her gaze, he replied:

“What would you have done if it didn’t?”

“That’s fine. Everyone’s drunk—no one’ll notice if I mess up.”

“Right—four chords.” He laughed, surprised.

To the melody her fingers coaxed out, his sweet voice rang again. Her heart felt as if it would burst.

From the middle on, she couldn’t even remember how she kept her hands moving across the keys. She thought she missed several notes as her fingers wandered, but she welcomed the warmth where the chill ought to have been.

Caught up in the mood, she couldn’t help feeling giddy.

Surrounded by applause and cheers, Alperil stepped down from the stage. As the night deepened she mingled freely, accepting drinks from whoever handed them—by the end, she could no longer tell who.

At first Terencio batted them away with a dark scowl shadowing his eyes, but once he realized she wasn’t getting nearly as drunk as he feared, those swats became watchful glances from the back of the room.

After eating and drinking her fill, Alperil swayed lightly while sipping when Terencio approached, plucked the glass from her hand, set it on a nearby table, and draped a coat—he had fetched from who knows where—over her shoulders.

“Shall we go, maestro?”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.”

Matching the hint of laughter in his voice, Alperil smiled brightly and leaned into his hand to stand. In that dizzying atmosphere, no one noticed the disappearance of just two more people.

Still, to avoid any unnecessary commotion, Terencio and Alperil slipped quietly out of the restaurant.

The winter night air bit sharply against their bodies still heated by drink. The young master, unmoved by Mrs. Bandit’s insistence on waiving the bill, sent her on ahead, then slipped back inside to tuck a few bills under a plate.

Alperil blew on her reddening hands cupped before her lips, then smiled when she saw Terencio return. Only after savoring the warmth of each other close by did they begin to walk.

The street beyond the restaurant was lined with stalls. Walking through a slightly thinned crowd, Terencio—eyes glimmering faintly blue under the moonlight—looked down at her and hesitated.

“Alpe.”

“…”

“No, um. Right. Your… hand…”

His voice trembled slightly, unable to finish. Instead of answering, Alperil looked up—and her eyes squeezed shut as her vision swung wildly and a firm grip steadied her.

With hurried yet strangely careful hands, Terencio pulled her coat back over her shoulders. The motion seemed as impulsive as it was unexpected.

A boy—no one knew from where—shattered the warm, peaceful air. Limping on stick-thin legs, he opened his mouth. It was no mere accidental bump; the intent was obvious.

“Uh, um…”

The man’s face hardened as he looked down at the child, barely reaching his waist. The boy, unable to get proper words out, whimpered and held out trembling hands.

Alperil winced, both relieved and pained. His frostbitten fingers were swollen and cracked, and the nose reddened raw like a drunkard’s.

Before Terencio could look past the boy, the child frantically waved to block his view. Alperil followed his gaze, puzzled.

Faint shadows flitted away into the alley—large shapes disappearing from sight. Alperil swallowed a bitter breath as she grasped the situation.

A gang’s survival tactic: send a parentless child to beg, then take every coin he brings back.

She glanced anxiously at the silent young master. For a noble like him, this must have been abhorrent. Yet she couldn’t walk away, and so she stood frozen—

—when Terencio suddenly lifted his hand.

Alperil barely had time to gasp, let alone stop him. But his hand stopped short of violence—landing instead in a light pat on the boy’s filthy matted hair.

Both Alperil and the boy stiffened. In that moment, the young master slipped a heavy handful of coins into the child’s palm. The boy hesitated, eyes darting, then bolted.

He didn’t even say thanks—too afraid the coins might be stolen back. He limped again and again, almost tripping as he fled, shrinking quickly into the distance.

Seeing her blink in shock for a different reason, Terencio offered calmly:

“He’s lame. If he goes back empty-handed, they’ll beat him worse.”

His voice sounded strangely accustomed to such grim arrangements. Alperil stopped mid-step, unable to tell if she was confused or moved—her hand lifting toward him without her noticing.

“And… sorry I’m late.”

It was only then that she realized something on her wrist felt unfamiliar. A braided blue cord bracelet—worn for good luck in the coming year—dangled there. Behind him loomed the great clock tower’s shadow.

11:55. Five minutes before the new year.

“I… think I understand.”

The words slipped out, certain that whatever he answered, she could accept.

“What do you understand?”

“Why you’re so kind to me, young master.”

She glanced up to steal a look at him, then dropped her gaze again.

“You pitied me, didn’t you? Like that boy.”

The quietest silence of the night followed—until the distant crowd began counting down to the new year. Through the rising noise, his heavy reply was unmistakable.

“There was a time when I did.”

“….”

“When you claimed blame before anyone accused you, and tiptoed around others’ tempers… you reminded me far too much of the life I lived.”

Relief, not hurt, washed over her. Meeting his eyes at last, she fidgeted with the bracelet knot. She finally understood the feeling in Terencio’s mist-gray gaze.

“I just wanted you to stop that. To not have to live like that. To treat you well. Isn’t that allowed?”

“No. I mean—thank you. I’d rather you say so…”

“It’s not like that anymore.”

Ten! Nine-and-a-half! Nine! The air vibrated. Soon the bells would ring. Though already close, Terencio cut off her words and stepped nearer.

“It hasn’t been for a long time—anything like pity.”

Warm hands cupped her ears. A moment later, the bell tolled so violently the ground trembled—but her world went still. Terencio’s expression was firm with conviction.

Her heart pounded; steam drifted from her parted lips. Shielded by his hands, her ears heard nothing but her own pulse. She felt she could never forget this moment.

Blinking, she held still. Her hearing rushed back. As his hands left, he leaned in. Breath brushed her skin, and before she could flinch away, he murmured:

“Sorry, but smile for a moment.”

“…What?”

“No—just stay like that. Act natural. Don’t react.”

Wide-eyed, but obedient, she kept her expression. From a distance, they would look like lovers in a close embrace. Standing just before her, Terencio sighed deeply, throat shaking.

“We’ve got a tail.”