The Melancholic Serenade

It seems like Zen wasn't kidding when he said all those gibberish about playing Beauty and the Beast.

A week has already passed since Anastasia woke up in this imposingly splendiferous home called a castle, and the master of the place is still treating her magnanimously - almost like royalty. He always invites her to eat meals with him, wherein she has no choice but to accept since it turns out that her appetite is just the same as that of a normal person.

Because of that, she has to endure his long-winded jibber-jabbers and ear-rotting romanticizing for hours, though it did help her get accustomed to another person's company at least. From time to time, he also takes her to a tour around the castle.

After days of searching around for any evidences that can reveal his schemes, Anastasia only finds herself receiving some sort of special treatment instead.

So far, Zen seems to be harmless and genuine with his words. He shows her nothing but kindness. But even then, there's still something that's bothering her.

"It's too early to rest easy. There's the fact that he knows a lot about my anatomy as well as my personal necessities. He told me that I'm physically stronger than an average human, which is why I was able to break the lid of the coffin and kick that zombie off of me the other day. He definitely knows something pivotal. All of my meals are also healthily balanced. It gives me the impression that he's a dietician or something. But above all..." Anastasia trailed off before sneaking out of her room, a certain destination in mind.

"... I have a gut feeling that he's lying about us being the sole residents here. I used to sense someone's presence from time to time, and there's one particular floor in this place that he won't let me step a foot in - the ground floor."

With a robe over her silk, cream white evening dress, Anastasia is now treading the path to the forbidden area, or so how Zen called it.

They just finished eating dinner earlier, and the clock is about to strike midnight. It's more than probable that he's resting by now.

"However, I have to wrap this up immediately. That guy kept pestering me about waking up early for this big surprise of his. Can't let him know I snuck out late."

A moment later, Anastasia finally reaches the ground floor. The fact that almost every room there is unoccupied helps her quicken the search, though it ends up taking a while longer than she expected.

Zen's bedroom is most likely locked, but fortunately, she has the know-hows of a spy. It just happened that she seemed to have kept the memory of picking locks with pins for some reason.

"What a strange memory to have. Was I actually a burglar before? Now that I think of it, he never really told me much about my past nor how we met."

While still in the middle of her stroll, Anastasia suddenly hears something from a distance. Perking up, she turns to its direction and slowly makes her way to it out of curiosity.

Since she's already there anyway, she might as well investigate when she still has the chance.

"Huh? Is that a piano?"

Anastasia arrives in front of what seems to be the entrance to this floor's master bedroom. Its grandiose door and unlocked knob are dead giveaways that tell her someone's dwelling there. It also appears like the sound is coming from inside.

Then, ever so silently, she makes her way in but only to find that the room's empty all along.

As expected, the interior layout is just as exquisite and sumptuous as a king's room. It's even bigger than her own.

The clutter of papers on a study table near the window is a sign that someone's using the place. But then, something incongruous makes her think that it's not Zen.

"What's this doing here?" Anastasia thought out loud, approaching the furniture and picking up an old-looking pink journal.

She takes a moment to let her eyes dart all over it, wondering what's inside and who owns it. That's until an unfamiliar melody starts playing, making her flinch and snap out of it.

Anastasia decided to take the journal for now, stuffing it inside the pocket of her robe before going deeper. She started walking to an aisle leading to another room.

"[I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me...]"

She then halts on her tracks upon hearing an all-too familiar voice singing.

"[...This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy...]"

Mellow, tuneful and silvery - his voice is just so euphonious that she finds herself craving for more and taking a peek.

"[...I need somebody to heal, somebody to know, somebody to have, somebody to hold...]"

Her eyes widen in surprise the moment she caught sight of Zen. He's playing a grand piano while singing a tune she had never heard of.

But even then, she's so helplessly compelled that it almost feels like she has danced to this song before.

"[... It's easy to say, but it's never the same. I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain...]"

More than anything else, Anastasia can feel the overflowing emotions that his voice and the music have in store. Like water gushing forth, or the blustering wind that blows, they just surge right in and make shivers run down her body.

"[...Now, the day bleeds into nightfall, and you're not here to get me through it all...]"

Anastasia is entirely drawn at this point. She didn't even notice that she has stepped all the way in.

Eyes glued on Zen's luminescent figure underneath the moonlight, she just continues to watch and absorb every detail.

"[...I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug. I was kinda getting used to being someone you loved...]"

That's when she plummets into an ocean of memories all of the sudden, making her dizzy and lose balance for a second. At the thumping sound of her shoes, Zen finally notices her presence.

"Sia?!"

Flummoxed, he hastily stands up from his seat and sprints towards her. He then grabs both of her shoulders to keep her from toppling over.

She appears to be hallucinating at that point, her eyes slowly losing their remaining vibrance.

"Sia? Talk to me. Are you okay? What's happening?"

But then, everything that comes out of his mouth only ends up unintelligible. At that very moment, Anastasia's mind is far from that place. She's presently recalling these obscure images of a certain boy with platinum blonde hair and their memories together that are engraved deeply within her.

"...I like you..." were the words that kept repeating in her head as the only coherent message that she remembered from this person.

"...I like you, Anastasia... Because you don't seem like everybody else... You're not after something from me..."

At this, a stinging pang suddenly strikes her head, eventually knocking her out cold.