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On one side, moist wind carried minuscule tears of sleepless beings wandering in the dark, swearing upon their ill lucks, wishing find any stray piece of food to fill their contracted stomachs. On the other side of that devious glass door which separated the wealthy from the wretched, there were various mortals with valuable green papers dubbed as 'money' stuffed lazily in their rhinestone-studded pockets. Through this crystal-clear glass door, the poverty-stricken could see the affluent jubilate but couldn't reach them. All they could do was touch the vitreous material with their frail fingers and mourn.

A coarse, old- fashioned red diary with beige pages blemished by sloppily scribbled reviews was being held by palms half its size. "Let's see...Levi Ackerman, a famous violinist. Tsk, how can people pay shitloads for a single piece by him," you muttered as you clicked open the pen to write his name on top of a new page. "Rich self-pitying shits," you remarked with nose scrunched up in loathing.

A wise person once told you that wealthy people were like wolves, ready to chew those with the aura of fear grinded in their bones. You took that advice into consideration and tried to keep your fright to yourself.

"A fifteen minute show and I can finally publish another review in my blog." You entered the hall, the air filled with a thick and not to mention eye-tearing mixture of acidic perfumes belonging to those flamboyant and confident ladies who seemed to have no problem whatsoever sitting in such an atmosphere.'How can I forget,' you corrected yourself,'they are used to such things.'

There were so many distinguished people around you dressed in various colors and expensive stones. A lady caught your eye, her blonde hair were swept off her face into a cascade of thick and deliberately messy curls which framed her neck the gentlest way possible. But what got you snickering was that her dress was apple-red and coincidentally matched with the hall's seats, hence, justifying her frown.

You looked at yourself, feeling under-dressed in simple jeans and top. No wonder the security questioned if you had stolen the tickets to this show or not. Actually, your grandfather had gifted you these tickets for he himself had quite a taste in good old music which seemed to caresses his weak eardrums softly rather than damaging them with raging teenage songs. You tried your best to decline the gift as you only reviewed bands and not single musicians, let alone a violinist. Alas, failure followed. You sat on a plush seat in the front row, directly facing the stage. The ambience was light and not at all full of anticipation. You expected chatters but were encountered with patient waits from the audience.

'Bleh, etiquettes,' you inwardly groaned. The lights dimmed down apart from the soft glow focused on the string orchestra. All of them looked like pale inanimate dolls, only to serve as an entertainment source for the rich. But who can blame them? They were just trying to make money, aware of the fact that they had to bow down their heads in front of strangers.

It was truly a chaotic world. A rotten cycle of life.

You tapped your fingers against the armrest to show a little rebellion. Oppressive glances and hushes directed towards you, ceasing every movement of yours. You huffed, sinking down into your seat and opened the red diary, ready to write but were distracted by a small figure dressed in an unsullied tux walking towards the middle of the stage, announcing his arrival with a rather disturbing clicking of heels against the wooden floor. A shiny violin was being held by its neck as the famous violinist helped himself under a bright light focused at the center of the stage.

You felt like an outsider in such a place. His arrival seemed to breathe life into the hall, with sound of autumn rolling against you with swift and subtle crunch, bleeding inside every ear in the form of claps. He didn't seem to acknowledge the greetings but only a twitch of his nose told you that he too didn't have a liking for the strong scent that permeated the hall's air.

"Start already," you groaned. An old lady dressed in lilac turned back to shoot you a glare, successfully shutting your mouth, making you feel irritated more than ever.

Levi brought his bow down onto the strings, telling the orchestra to start. As the first note hit, all life was swept away from the hall, falling into a dead silence of awe. You bit your lip. Each and every nerve of yours palpated in anxiety. Your nails raked across the diary ,' W-what? ' Only few moments had passed and you were already resisting an urge to blink your eyes, fearing you might cry. The music crawled on your skin, slithering like a snake, proudly showing its fluidity and sheen.

With shaking fingers, you pushed the tears away. Inferior. That's how you felt right now. Levi's bow danced on the slender neck of the wicked instrument, expertly stroking its strings to produce the most dominating tunes. The sound echoed in the hall, supressing the mortals, making them feel worthless of their existence.

'It's so different,' you couldn't help that thought. It was imperious. You didn't feel refreshed or lost in that evergreen maze of lapping sounds but were left awake and aware. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, surrendering to the arrogant music which made you think about reality rather than illusions that mediocre musicians presented. The harmony scratched on your wounds, freshening them, showing how barbaric and atrocious verisimilitude can be.

The light illuminated his pale skin, matching the perfect set of porcelain doll-like musicians behind to accompany him.'No, he's not like them....he's different.' A ghost of a smirk adorned his thin lips as he flashed open his eyelids to look at the puny particles of dirt before him. The same people who considered themselves magnificent having their teeth stained ruby with pricy wine, were now left as trivial as monochromatic chess pieces before the melody.

His ashen eyes flickered towards you, watching your expressions with a steady gaze. 'Why me? Why not someone else?' Then you looked at your clothes with blurry and aching red eyes, 'Oh, that's why.'

You wanted nothing but to leave and cry your heart out. Cry at humanity and its limitless cruelty. Cry at reality.

Your head shook here and there, ensuring if other people too had the same thoughts as yourself. Black rivers of mascara ran down the pearly white and powdered faces of women whilst the men tried hard to maintain their persona as stoic as possible. But truly, their esteem was now charred and their vanity crushed. 'Maybe that's what he wanted to achieve? Make the rich feel puny.' The piece ended with a note as ethereal as fog itself, masking the world yet again.

Cycle of life.

It was like a candle, filling every speck of darkness. But when the flame went out, what happened then? The darkness returned again. Chain. Everything was a cycle, an isochronism. This music was no exception.

Levi bowed half-heartedly in front of the audience and took his leave. So did everyone after an ear-tearing wave of claps. A sobbing mess called (Name) refused to get up from the seat until she was sure her sanity wasn't damaged. Oh how much your heart burnt with the melancholic harmony still ringing in your ears.

Scrambling, you opened up your red possession to write about Levi but words couldn't explain what you felt right now. "What the hell?" you cursed yourself. "Think, think, think!" You chanted this mantra for what seemed like hours. The pen rolled in between your fingers while your face was contoured in irritation.

"Need some help?" a voice called behind you, causing you to whip your head towards the source. The same devil of melodies was standing behind you with his dexterous fingers inside the pocket of his pants.

You gasped, "S-sir?"

"Tch, shitty brat, I'm not old," he took a seat beside you, looking directly at the entry concerning his name in the diary. A rosy blush covered your cheeks while you dropped your head low in embarrassment.

"I just couldn't...write a review about.....you." A sigh made its way out of your throat with annoyance engraved on it.

"Tsk, you don't know me well enough to write anything about me," he looked the other way, his black bangs dancing on his forehead.

"Oh well...." You were very much uncomfortable with his presence. Why? Because he was rich? Or because he was so puzzling and enigmatic that it scared you to even look at him?

"Did you..like it?"

You reluctantly smiled at him but answered truthfully, "Yes, it was very beautiful."

"I aim to serve, Miss.....?"

"(Name)," you answered while tightening your grip on the diary.

"......" he thought for a second, "how about...you and I go to a near .....coffee shop..and then I'll help you with the review or interview whatever shit you want."

'She's so...different,' Levi thought.

"S-Sure."

He smirked ever so lightly, "You know, (Name), where words fail, music speaks."

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