The melancholic sound reverberated through the space that encapsulated the room filled with people. The people sat in silence looking upon the wooden stage. Men in silence staring at the elegance on display. Women holding their hands and fans in front of their mouths as if pondering the excellence of the performance.

Slender fingers, connected to an equally slender body, pressed down on the white and black bars that produced the sound of purity. Light sweat droplets fell onto the keys and splattered apart like the drops of rain that fell on the ceilings of monasteries in mass. Those hands that controlled the movements of fingers moved along the long board of wood that housed the keys of black and white.

The sounds continued to blast out into the theater housed by those who appreciate such serenity. With the performance coming to a close, the woman playing such harmony flicked her head back in accordance with her fingers pressing down aggressively onto various keys. Underneath the veil that once covered her face was a pair of bright blue eyes akin to angels. Those men who sought a beautiful piece of art let their tongues out like panting dogs, while those women who partnered with those same men sat there wishing to be jealous but unable to bring themselves to disgrace the woman’s beauty.

With the final key being played, the woman sitting on the small stool turned to the crowd and gave a warm smile. The silence in the room quickly erupted into the sounds of cheer and applause; laughter and longing. Those who were particularly enthusiastic were jumping up and down while clapping and humming the song which had been played a moment ago.

With that, the curtains fell upon the stage, and the cheers had turned to chatter among those of the same parties. The woman stood up from her stool. The skirt of her dress lowered to completely cover the top of her feet, which had been exposed slightly due to her position of setting.

She approached the border of the stage as another girl, as childish as she was small, rushed forward and tackled the woman, sending the two girls falling down to the wooden floor. The young girl quickly got back up on all fours with a giant smile on her face.

“That was amazing! That was your best performance by far! You’re definitely number one now!”

The woman smiled as she pushed the young girl off her. A small laugh escaped her. As she sat up, she began to pat the straightened hair on the top of the girl’s hair.

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“I appreciate the words.”

“I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I do!”

The girl, whose cheeks were red and puffed up, began to look at the woman with agitation in her eyes.

“Abagail Willus, there was a message left for you.”

A man rounded the sharp corner of backstage and quickly delivered the message before leading himself out of the doorway to the right. Abagail opened and read the letter that had been addressed to her and almost immediately after, crumbled up the paper and threw it in the trash.

The woman picked herself off the ground and began to dust her dress off. Her open hand soon dropped down to reach the younger girl’s.

“Fera, let's go.”

The young Fera grasped the hand with no hesitation.

“‘kay.”

…

The bell rang as the door pushed open.

“Welcome! Please take a seat.”

One of the girls working on making coffee yelled out to the newly entered patron without looking back. The woman walked over and approached a man holding a pocket watch attached to his left breast pocket. She sat down as if it were a natural progression of events.

“What the hell did you want?”

The woman’s, Abagail Willus’, foul mouth led the man to scoff as he put away his pocket watch.

“I just wanted to see your pretty face.”

Fucking disgusting.

The man let out a big smile. His fingers tapped on the table in a rhythmic pattern.

“You really should keep your thoughts more reserved. I’m hurt.”

The man grasped at his heart in a playful manner whilst wiping the “tears” out of his eyes. His actions were quite exaggerated and silly, like those put on by clowns for young children, except this time, the show was for the clown himself.

“Hurry up with it. I want to go back to enjoying my life. My baby sister is waiting at home, alone.”

The man quickly released his smile and reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a red bag that splattered when it hit the table.

“I need you to dispose of this. It’s fucking filth and not even the police would take it. It’s just a werewolf’s head. Nothing too special.”

The woman’s mouth twitched as she looked at the person sitting opposed to her.

“Is that it? Is this all you called me for?”

The smile appeared on the man’s face once more.

“Yep! Why else would I call you? I don’t need help with work.”

“Why the hell did you ask me then!?”

Abagail flung her arms down on the table as she stared at the man’s smile. The table’s legs shook by the force of her fists pressing down.

“Make sure to give me a better name next time.”

As he began to speak, he positioned himself as if making fun of a certain small girl.

“‘kay?”

Before the woman could do anything, the man left the shop without even paying for the coffee he had been drinking.