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“Maroc Metz—as usual in his tailcoat, rimless glasses, gloved hands, and neatly brushed black hair—welcomes the Mesmerizer with boiling-hot tea—Earl Grey, raspberry flavor. He drinks a third of it in one gulp, its heat boosting his prana. The boiling-hot tea doesn’t make him blink away from the Devil’s Book.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Even time can be smelled and seen if you are observant, if you know how to smell the abstract. And if you do, you risk exposure to a certain addiction. The addiction to smell.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“PRICELESS!â€� Ruem, the Mesmerizer, admires the Devil’s Book. A three-foot-tall and one-and-a-half-foot-wide book with leather bounding—preserved well through time. The ornate frame protects its thickness of nine inch. The yellowed pages are filled with Latin in dark ink and decorative drawings of â€� well, everything you can think of: astronomy, botany, physiology. A book of practical knowledge, yes. But it also holds the unknown, the mysteries of the abstract—the unreal realms of the universe.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“The four tiny lifters at each corner keep the book hovering in the air at the central lounge. As if it’s not a book but a show on his stage. But there’s no stage in the lounge. Not today. Today, the central lounge of Kuhawk—the house where the Mesmerizer lives—is only for the Devil’s Book.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“The lounge usually holds his couch, his easels, inks and oils, and original handmade paper imported straight from Kappa—Nihon of the Old World.

The center of the lounge is always for the stage—a raised, soft, armless sofa where his subject poses. But this evening isn’t about the stage or his art. This evening, the lounge shouldn’t hold needless furniture. Tonight, Kuhawk is for one book. Tonight, all the moonlight coming through the transparent globe should illuminate only the Devil’s Book—the first key to everything the Mesmerizer seeks. Oh, the trouble he took to earn it!”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Never give bad news when Master Ruem drinks tea, Maroc knows the rule.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“If nostalgia had a smell, it’d smell like her.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“If nostalgia had a smell, it’d smell like her. He closes his eyes, removing the scent from his mind, just as an evolved Grade A should do—not let little thoughts infect his inner quiet.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Bring wine,â€� he mutters. “She’s an old friend.â€� Standing in his bedroom, he notices the subtle change of expression—a frown, almost—on Maroc’s face after hearing the old-friend part.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“The Mesmesrizer turns around, facing the woman and glancing at her uniform with golden lines that run along her curves. She must love her uniform—majestic and powerful. He can smell its colors and the fabric: 100% solid, no hologram, no color-changing particles, but not natural enough. He can still smell that 5% polyester with 15% nylon.

“Please, Vellariya,â€� he says, gesturing with his hand as if offering the floor to the performer, also ignoring that he is still naked after the shower.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Will of Slayer!
Maroc guards himself against the Will of Slayer the Mesmerizer emits. His prana shields him firmly. He even goes far enough to murmur something under his breath and not just think it—the word his Master Ruem taught him. It keeps his body warm.

“Burn it,â€� the Mesmerizer mutters. The air turns denser. If air had consciousness, it would feel the weight of his voice now—the King of Mesmerizersâ€� voice.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“From above, the entire plan of Kuhawk looks like a bird’s nest; the globe looks like a gem at the center.
It’s quiet. Except for the times when music happens.
Like now�

One room in the two-story building glows, violin music emanating from it. Maroc is playing for his master: The Roar of Death Sonata, 1st Movement, one of the legendary Eleven Pieces composed after the Apocalypse.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Someone is here.
Someone unwanted.
Someone, not a guest.
A noise of footsteps, as subtle as a cat’s, comes. The Mesmerizer narrows his eyes in that direction. “Intruder,â€� he mutters, knowing the stranger can hear him. The Roar of Death Sonata stops. Maroc has sensed the intruder, too.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“There’s no welcome song for intruders in any courtesy book,â€� the Mesmerizer says, still naked and finally replying to whatever the woman said earlier. “Especially, someone from a spy organization,â€� he adds, “in her full uniform and armed, no less.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Mob psychology: if the majority laughs, you must laugh too.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“It’s not him,â€� the Monk says in a determined voice.

“Because he never hides knowledge?�

“Because he’s busy seeking knowledge,� the Monk says.

“Oh, yes, busy was the word. Always.â€� Mee-Hae nods. “I remember how much scared he was of not having enough time for all he wanted to do, for all he wanted to â€� achieve.â€� After several more moments of gazing at nothing in particular into the forest, she suddenly faces the Monk. “I want answers, Yuan,â€� she says.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“These days, the word Source is coming frequently, ever since that man asked to meet.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Uncertainty—not for food or shelter, but for life. Fear of death. Fear of living alone.
He was a child back then. Him and Ruem.
“Win your fear, and you’ll evolve.â€� Their Master’s voice lulls the Monk in his mind.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“I think, my boy, it’s not time that is limited either. If one wants to evolve to the next level, one has plenty of time. So, lack of time or indulgence isn’t the true obstacle,â€� Master said once.
“Then what is the true obstacle?� asked Ruem.
“E²µ´Ç.â€�
“Ego? You mean the idea of self?� Yuan asked.
“No, not those complex ideas of self or I, rather the pure ego. The ego that tells you, you’ve evolved enough; that you’re the most superior creation already. My boy, you never think of evolving to the next level because you believe you’ve reached it. You believe you’re in the final level of cognitive evolution already. But you are not. There’s always another level.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Your plan will backfire. People aren’t ready for this. I’ve seen it. They prefer being blind, living life the way it is, waiting for an end, playing their little life game. And they want to play it safe. You cannot force adventure on everyone, Ruem. You can’t implant wisdom.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“A life flourishing to fulfill its drive deserves to live.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“People with no desire to live have no right to exist,â€� he says, “They’re insults to the meaning of life.â€� His deep voice whispers like a spell as if a new code is added to the laws of the universe with all the will in his heart, with all the frequencies in his voice, and with all the persuasion in his soul.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Fun needs an upgrade once you evolve higher,â€� he (Ruem) says.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Late, as usual,â€� the Mesmerizer greets. “Were you meditating at every crossroad, Monk?â€� His eyes hidden beneath his hat.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Didn’t even ask if he will be free on the 19th at 19:20 hours!
That arrogant devil!”
― Misba, The High Auction

“As a private joke, he and Ruem recreated their master’s voice, installing it in Pico’s AI three decades ago. Now their own master’s voice—the master who trained them both—says Ruem isn’t a human. “You’re judging humans. One of your creators, no less,â€� Yuan says, half-informing, half-praising.
“I’m repeating what Ren said.�
“Stay here,� the Monk says, leaving Pico near the waterfall.
“Are you angry because I said Ruem is not a human?â€� Pico asks.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“I invested time too.â€� Ruem should’ve raised his voice, but he doesn’t. “No one can afford my time.”
― Misba, The High Auction

““Yuan, what if death is the key? Will we know everything, all secrets, all answers after we die?â€�
“M²¹²â²ú±ð,â€� Yuan replied then, wanting to avoid the topic, not admitting he’d been thinking the same thing for a while. At that time, everyone thought of death, at least several times a day, just as people pray at every dawn and dusk.

“Give me your word, Yuan,� Ruem then said, suddenly.
“What word?�
“That if you die before me, you’ll try your best to send me signs or a message. You’ll tell me what’s beyond.�

Yuan only stared after what Ruem had said. He couldn’t say what if there was no beyond, what if it’s all empty, what if it’s just a dark void after death. He couldn’t answer, seeing Ruem’s blue eyes. Now that he remembers, the Mesmerizer had blue eyes then, before they turned red.

“I give my word, Yagmur. If I die first, I will tell you everything I find, even if it requires me to come back after death,� Ruem promised. “If the beyond exists, that is,� he added.

That day, Yuan gave his word too, and the word still remains. Someone truly evolved never breaks his word. Not even in death.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Always leave a mark, don’t you, humans?”
― Misba, The High Auction