Chapter 0

Soothing smiles like his are perceived by truth as beguiling, repugnant, disgusting, deceiving, wrapped in beauty for even a man, one who robs affection, attention, envy, and hatred, well known and loved, but hated by more of jealousy, his soothing smile, blanketing his truthful teeth and tongue of depravity, never wavers from his face of near-perfection, absolute in his unshakeable tender and calmness, expressing himself as the immovable mountain of tranquil composure.

Walking past him, the hall carrying muffled academic salutes and feasts of the grand ceremony down the way he came, sultry envy shivers through both young women's cheeks, down into their chests, walking past him in silence.

Ten steps further, they find themselves exhaling finally, how could they act correctly with every fiber of their being for his intelligence and kindness, correcting observations if he chose to. "Hehe, I couldn't do it," she giggles, excitedly grabbing onto her friend.

"Well, I did," she retorts with playful arrogance. "That makes it the third time I've glanced at his eyes." How great her heart was pounding.

"You don't have to tell me, your sweat is staining it," informing her, observing the flowing white dress, spiraling at the front in a large white flower at her chest. "If his hair wasn't that messy, and maybe if he dyed it blonde, he'd look like The Baron." Sighing out in serene pleasure, with a sweet smile of fantasies brewing within her.

"You're comparing gods." Their faint, muffled laughter travels through the hall, perceived by his ears, even though the two are now long out of sight. The beautiful baroque door stands in front of him, three different keys, one of gold, one of diamond, one of steel, clinking within his hands, the steel key turning the lock, then the gold, finally the diamond.

Shutting the door behind him, sealing himself within his dormitory from the large empty antique hall, and its marble floors. The moonlight's illumination forms the room within his eyes, glaring from outside through the three large baroque curving windows, matching a small building in height, across from which the fireplace lies, two curved blades fastened on a mantle above it, a curving red sofa, soft and thick with matching pillows positioned observing the fireplace. 

Removing the black coat, he dumps it on one of the three large desks, plopping and crushing many papers underneath, open books, loose pages, with their engravings of ink. Removing his shoes, maneuvering around the smooth, dark wood floor, avoiding scattered papers and books until he reaches another door.

Taking his breath in the smaller bedroom, he heads over to his extensive curving wood desk situated against the corner, the walls of the room covered in writing, blanketed by nailed papers of all sizes, covered also in schematics and writing.

The floor, even underneath the bed, is like an ocean of writing material, with one of the bed's posts having rope tied to it, leading down the bed, small stains of red at each end. He plops down on the chair at the desk, placing both feet up atop each other on the desk, puffing out his chest, leaning backward as he takes a deep breath.

Pondering in realization, he sighs, smiling still as he observes a black raincoat hanging from a coat hanger attached to the door. "They call out sweetly for you, Horatio Gates. I've prepared your funerary suite on The Azure Orchid's bed," that serene soothing smile of his, poets out.

"The Revolution Nacht, your Judgement has finally arrived." The venerator of vileness, who knows no bounds, ponders in the delight of the judgement to come.

Thud, thud, thud

He raises an eyebrow momentarily, only for the taps to increase into the hundreds, into the unrelenting sequence of the cold night rain crashing against his window, of the strong winds, sighing out his serene, soothful smile.