Hello there everyone! After seemingly an eternity before I could've updated my fics, I've rewritten the sequel for Strings Theory. A good of friend of mine requested if I could write my fics according to her discretion before she would leave for Netherlands. So I dedicate the rewritten fic for my bff as well as good people who displayed their support for my first fic! Enjoy!
cHaracters of K'iniro no Corda and the MV are not mine! ^^
Chapter One: Through The Backdoor
A woman in her early twenty's whose personality was as exuberant as the springtime's weather can be, opened the shutter of the window in her apartment. Spindly rays of sun lay low in the west. A slightly panoramic view of suburban Tokyo welcomed her. She sighed softly.
Frankly, I'll never know when I will be able to see my past again, she thought.
A few more moments of silence was spent in such contemplation until she drew one last deep breath and closed her window. She dragged her feet across her bed, where lithe body collided against the cushiony, emerald-green bed. She was feeling lethargic these days, more likely because she swore she thought she had literally lived in their library, preparing for their case presentation for their research. And yes, the summer classes loomed around the campus. Oh, how longed to take some vacation! She could only just hug her pillows in frustation. Damn! I still have to attend to that event tonight! She growled to herself. Not wanting to be late in her appointment, she reached for her alarm clock at the bedside table and set the time. It was only a matter of minutes before she fell asleep.
Th woman roused from her slumber as her alarm clock ticked loudly. Slowly stirring from her slumber, her long hand sought for that noisy time-teller and jammed it shut. She yawned. Her eyes darted towards the glass windows. The eventide came as the moon outside rose rather magnificently. It was time to prepare.
She headed to her closet first; carefully selecting whatever she thought would best suit the occasion. Moments later, she was neatly packing her belongings into her brown satchel, leaving only her black leather jacket and a pair of knee-high black boots across her bed.
Before her feet could carry her in the showers, she turned to her iPod dock in her study table, clicked to some dance tunes and amped the volume. As the cold water started to pound against her inside the showers, the woman began to jauntily scrub her body with strawberry-scented shower gel. As the luscious scent of berry pervaded her nose and the catchy tunes kept its rhythm, her nerves became revived, her spirits in more vivacious state.
Ten more minutes had passed after she dried herself; she was liberally applying some shimmer infused lotion, assuming the fact that it would lend some spark on skin on this afterdark. The woman sat down in front her dressing table, blowdried her soft, short luxurious hair afterwhich she had painted her lovely face with makeup. After applying some lightweight foundation and concealer; she drew a heavy black liner around her eyes, dusted some gold shadows while finally applying some peachy nude lip stain. Her gray irises, brilliant against her dark-rimmed makeup, twinkled in mischievousness. A small self-satisfied smirk formed in her lips. She was ready for the party.
Meanwhile, Tokyo nightlife was always a busy one and this night was no exception. Neon lights and signs proudly presented themselves as though mocking the dark sky above. Cacophony of sounds blared left and right. A lot of people especially the younger ones, seemed to enjoy the night scene more than the hectic day itself.
In one particular corner of the street in Shibuya district, an upscale club seemed to have a life on its own. Men and women, whose ages probably lie between early and late twenties eagerly, queued up outside the club. East End Luxe hosted and catered to socialites and celebrities alike when it came to partying hotspot. One when expect that a person could enter upon an invitation on one of its special members. Once a person entered its door, he or she will likely agree that everything inside speaks of grandeur: the effect of strobe lights on the marvelous dancefloor, the state-of-the-art sound system, the tastefully lined bar counter, and of course, those sexy socialites downing their glasses of margheritas.
However, that was not the case for Len Tsukimori as he was ushered inside the club with his companions. He was not the type who will make rounds into this place. In a more classy lounges perhaps, but not in a clubbing place such as this one. Din of noise crashed his ears.
They were being led into secluded spot in the club. At the end of the hall for VIP rooms, a lone aquarium was mounted in the wall. It glowed bright against the darkness the place. It didn't seem odd; in fact it added a nice touch to hall. When they've reached their destination, Len's golden irises perked up in surprise when he noticed another dark, narrow hallway, to the aquarium's left side. One could have sworn while walking from a distance that the aquarium's station was just another dead-end. Soon, he deducted, that the view was partially obstructed the the last cubicle for the VIP rooms and he was sure that it was intended to be that way.
The usher stroked the steel frame of the mounted, glass-encased mini-ocean. Keypads suddenly sprang from it, as the usher briskly pressed the passcode. The narrow hallway to their left flashed some light, a secret door stood ajar. He could feel his companions' awe rise in a moment. Thus, it was through the backdoor of Paradise Le Rouge that they were taken into another dimension.
Unbeknownst to most people going to East End Luxe, it held a place for gentlemen called Paradise Le Rouge, who wanted some night-out in a more entertaining kind of way. The place boasted super sleek and minimalist interior while a group of girls in danced in short shorts, their outfits bespoke of nautical in design, greeted their sight. The girls wonderfully paraded their creamy, bare legs as they moved in perfect synchrony to the tune of a bubbly beats. Someone from his group let out a low whistle. Heavens, can someone remind Len Tsukimori agreed to be stuck in here?
"Looks like we're having a grand night here buddy," Kanazawa-sensei teased.
"I'm not sure about that," the redhead Ousaki nervously replied. "Are you sure Yunoki recommended this place? Maybe we're in the wrong place."
"Of course not sensei," Tsuchiura said. "Besides, little trips in the likes of these wouldn't hurt."
And there the reason goes. It was Ousaki-sensei's bachelor party and he was damn right to suspect that the laidback, long-haired professor presented this humorless idea. If it wasn't for the fact that his fiancee Kahoko was the first one to read the invitation, urging him to go for old-time's sake, he wouldn't care a damn thing. Len happened to came home last night from his flight from Vienna after his series of concerts. All he wanted was to take a summer break with his fiancee.
Soon, they found themselves comfortably on a long, black leather settee on one of the VIP rooms on the second landing. Minutes later, some alcholic beverages were served on the glass table.
"So, what were you up to now?" Kanayan asked.
As the guys began to fill the part of their conversations, Len sat silently as he listened as to what his former acquaintances had become. Ryoutarou Tsuchiura was, as everybody in their room knew, now a star player for Japan's national team for soccer. The green-haired athlete reckoned he was still playing the piano if anybody cared to inquire. The spunkier green-haired guy, in the name of Kazuki Hihara worked as music producer as well director, very much implying how he could never live without music. Blonde and dashing Aoi decided to pursue medicine at Tokyo University. Azuma Yunoki was of course, being the affluent businessman that he is, used his connections and suggested this place in favor of his associate. Presently, he wasn't able to join because of an emergency meeting. The only ones who were not present in this reunion was famous violinist like himself Etou Kiriya and the sleepyhead cellist, Keiichi Shimizu. Len also learned that most of them were now residing in Tokyo, except of course with their two professors.
Four ladies in their skin-baring outfits entered their room and everybody surmised well enough what this was all about. Mostly the girls stayed away from him, probably sensing that he's not a man to be mess around with their flirting antics, that their advances might be rebuffed bu him.
The chattering and merry-making seem to last through the night while Len sat in his place, brooding with his drink. No one noticed that outside the glass panels of their VIP room, the scantily-clad women had stopped dancing, a pitch black darkness descended while seconds later, the plasma screen blinked to life. On the screen, a group of girls on black, sexy outfits were seen dance somewhat provocatively in a choreographed dance. Nobody fom his companions was aware that Len stood, quietly went outside. He propped his elbow on the railings, watched in unexplainable fascination over what was happening on the stage. He realized that it was kind of silent, even the plasma screen produced no sound or whatsoever, just the title of the video at the bottom, which was Dr Feel Good by Rania. Slowly and suspensefully as the golden rays of limelight came with the catchy beats. Soon, the stage presented three female dancers dressed exactly the same as with their screen counterparts.
The dancers temptingly danced their way but only their backs facing the audience. Len had a feeling that it was done to entice their guests' attention. And he was right. As he watched from above, the gentlemen in their suits became acutely focused on the show. Then, Len's gaze wandered back to the dancers.
On the other side of the club, a handsome, wealthy man watched in gleeful lust for his prized possession. He eyed the blonde temptress on the stage. He was the first to find her; the last man she'll ever surrender to. He couldn't imagine what a more exciting life he has when he'd made her his mistress. He could almost feel her seductive voice calling him. Soon, she will be his. A devilishly handsome smirk crossed his face. Real soon.
Strange, he thought as the middle dancer caught his attention. She had an edgier, pixie-cut blond hair. He gazed at her intently, observing how graceful as a swan she could be as she dances in more modern, provocative dances. In spite of himself, Len was carefully scrutinizing the maiden before his amber irises. Even her back, her lithe body screamed a multitude of fineness. Right touches of feminine curves, her legs lean and well-proportioned and yes, her derriere. That derriere of hers, undeniably finely sculpted like Aphrodite on marble! The blonde seductress exudes a painfully sultry charisma.
Len on the otherhand was rather hypnotized when her hips swayed in an alluring manner. A weird familliarity crept through his veins. He has this feeling that he had seen someone dance before, making his heart skip its beat. But tonight the seductive number insidiously raised his heart rate. Len took a swig on his scotch.
Don't let this tomfoolery blind you, he chided himself.
He was about to turn his back before anything else might run dirty in his thoughts when the dancers on the stage decided to let the audience catch a glimpse of their beautiful faces. Curious on how the blonde dancer fair on the beauty scale, he remained on his place. The slim countour of her chin, her tenderly shaped lips, her mysterious gaze, all of which painted a beauty. What he had examined from afar almost made his stomach turned sick. He sputtered. He knew her of course! But how?How was this possible? For all those years she was missing, with everyone seeming to conclude that she's already dead! That the last time people saw Megumi Amane alive was when she left a club in London's West End while her car was found battered and broken the following day.
What the hell was she doing in a gentleman's club? The nerve of this woman!
Some unknown vexation swept inside him as he marched downwards, heading for the backstage.
After few furious moments later, Len found himself on a dark alley outside the club, a certain blonde dancer towed in his wake. He pushed her none too gently against the wall. He caught a whiff of her intoxicating perfume.
"What do you think you're doing Megumi?" Len scowled.
"The more appropriate answer to do that is, I don't know who you are Monsieur!" the blonde retorted in French. "And I'm not Megumi either."
With that reply Len cast a very perplexed look on his face. Is it possible she was playing games with him? However, those scathing gray eyes told him the answer. Yet, he could never be wrong! Those intense gray irises could never betray him.
A/N: The short-haired girl from kpop girl group Rania inspired me to create Meg's new look!
*chews her nails nervously* So guys, what do you think the rewritten sequel? Is it better or should I keep my previous chap? I wanna thank you in advance for letting me know! n_n