Chapter 27 | You Have To See It With Your Ears

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Elena's P.O.V.

The sound of my footsteps reflected around the empty halls that lead to the theater's main room. Through the way here, I have been keeping a steady eye open for every possibility of being jumped on. Those voices I heard a month ago, yeah, they were still not out of my head.

Either I'm being careful or I'm becoming too paranoid.

"Hello? Francis, are you here?" I called out, looking around for the monk in the empty room.

No answers. No sounds. No nothing. Just an abandoned building filled with warmth.

It's still better than my house though.

This is actually the first time I'm alone here, I thought, and silently hoped that I wouldn't do anything stupid to ruin it all - like burning the theater down while Francis is (probably) in the monastery.

I pulled out the music sheets that held the codes of a symphony, laying it neatly on the piano in front of me. And then, after cracking my fingers, I was playing one of my favorite compositions: Mariage D'Amour by Richard Clayderman.

My fingers danced across the piano keys, and sometimes it went a bit slow, other times I was confident in what I was doing. Sure, it didn't sound as magical and professional as it would've been if Francis played it, but if I'm going to reach his level, I have to practice.

The room was filled with a tranquility of music. Some people enjoy the sounds of waves, rain, wind or just complete silence.
But for me, there's nothing better than to listen to a piano concert. It's a dance between tangents and keys, a dance between music and feelings.

"Ow!" And then there's a kind of people who can't even keep the silence at its peace for even a minute.

"Ethan!" An irritated look was aimed at the prince who was laying on the floor, his feet entwined in a rope. "I know you're a stalker and all, but seriously, invading someone's privacy and eavesdropping? Even I didn't believe that you would sink that low."

He rolled his eyes, still trying to get out of the knot his feet had stumbled into. "First of all, I am not a stalker," he said slowly as if I was a child with problems of hearing. "Second of all, I just arrived here, so technically, I did not eavesdrop," he stated matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at me. "Besides, I'm only here to eavesdrop on you when you sing, not when you play - there's a difference."

I rolled my eyes, finding his explanation a bit comical. "Sure, Your Majesty, whatever you say."

"So. . . does that mean that you are going to sing?"

A laugh escaped my lips, "You wish. I'm not here to practice my vocals, you idiot, but my playing."

He rolled his mahogany brown eyes, scratching the side of his chin where scattered beauty marks were painted. "But since you're already playing, then you can just as well sing, right? Because you did say that you finish whatever you start-"

"But! You did say, and I quote, 'there's a difference' between singing and playing. And therefore, I am finishing what I started; I'm finishing a symphony, not a song." I pointed out, feeling the strong taste of victory.

"Yeah, but. . . You know, there's a- I mean, of course, but I meant- oh, leave me alone now," I laughed at the messy sentences rambling out of his mouth. "It's not fair, you can't just use my words against me like that. I'm not a born lawyer as you can see."

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