Perhaps a drum roll is in order as the deuteragonist of this tragedy is introduced.

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CHAPTER ONE: The Case of Feliciano Vargas (Part One)

One day, several years ago, a young man in his late twenties lay naked on the cold floor of a brick house. All he knew was his name, Arthur Kirkland, and his job which was to collect emotions of people. At that time, he didn't have a name of what he did. With the passage of time, the perpetual being learned more about his (its) existence.

He is an existence that is not well-documented and until recently, he was only known through by word-of-mouth in a far-off town. In a small village of the Southern peninsula of Italy, there was a legend that circulated which sounded similar to what he was supposed to do. He then took the name of HEART COLLECTOR which perfectly suited his job.

His abilities allowed him to travel great distances in a blink of an eye. However, he was restricted only to Italy and he didn't know why. He also could not talk to human beings because he was invisible to them. At one point he tried to touch a pedestrian but he was electrocuted from the short contact. From then on, he refrained from any sort of interaction. Mechanically, he collected the emotions which were kept inside the bottle. The job was neither rewarding nor upsetting; it was just there and he just does it.

(Bullocks. Thinking about the whole scenario is annoying…)

Arthur straightened himself as he walked around a house's perimeter. The place was familiar to him as he has visited it before. At that time, his presence was badly needed. However today was different. Without any invitation, he could not enter the place. Unlike before, one of the inhabitants decided to call the heart collector and this allowed him to enter the house without any problems. This time it was different.

(I don't even know why I am here…)

Green eyes watched through the large glass window of the living room. From where he stood, he could see several people; it looked like a United Nations conference seeing that those who were there are people from different countries. He could also distinctly here the accented speeches from the people inside.

Time was inconsequential for the young man. The cold weather too didn't affect him as he stood several hours, observing those who were inside. Judging from the conversations, the Italian brothers were the owner of the house. The younger brother brought guests from the university and the newly-wed neighbors decided to spend Christmas Eve with the siblings.

(What a lively scene…)

Arthur distractedly thought. He felt his body being pulled inside the house around dawn. When his eyes were finally able to adjust, he was seeing a sleeping figure which was hugging a bottle.

(What is this daft doing?)

He could feel his fingers tingling as he slowly approached the sleeping brunet. This was so unfair for the heart collector because he needs to touch the scoundrel's skin to get the bottle. In turn, he can get the letter written inside the bottle which was what he really needed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and clicked his tongue. This was the trickiest situation he has been since he began this eccentric job.

(What to do?)

He wished that he could just leave alone the dimwit and move to the next person who was seeking the heart collector. Unluckily, there was no such person. If he is unable to get the emotions, he would be stuck to this individual. So even if he will leave, he will be pulled back due to some karmic force. If he does take the bottle later than today… he does not know what will happen. This sleeping man puzzled Arthur; it feels as if the brunet had plans for Arthur.

(The die is cast!)

Arthur mentally yelled and in a swift motion, he tried to grab the bottle. However, it was his hand which was gripped by the (apparently, not sleeping) figure. The young man began to panic. He knew what will happen next: he will feel the electric currents sweeping through his body, blinding his mind and filling it only with the thought of pain. The anticipation was unbearable; the milliseconds that passed then it took a full minute for Arthur to realize that nothing was happening to his body.

(Bloody hell! Is this a miracle?)

"Finally, I caught you thief! Give back my little brother's emotions!"

Green eyes widened as he fully saw the profile of the previously sleeping figure. If Arthur was still living, he would have died from prolonged breath-holding. He has met several people during his travels but the man in front of him was breathtaking. Rather than the physical attributes, there was something in the depths of those hazel eyes that definitely pulled Arthur into them. A different kind of electricity ran through Arthur's body and it was the good kind of tingling sensation.

"Pardon?"

"You're the fucking collector right? I want you to give back Feliciano's grief."

For the first time in a long time, Arthur was tongue-tied. It baffled him how this handsome brunet could see him. (Nonetheless touch me!)

"Feliciano…?"

Also, it bothered him at how his heart was beating erratically. Technically, he wasn't a human but he still has fully functioning internal organs. However, he never experienced the need for food and water. Basically, he didn't possess the need to fulfill the lowest level in Maslow's hierarchy of needs.

"Don't play dumb! You, you bastard!"

At this point, Arthur's hand was let go and the angry brunet in front of him was spouting words that were incomprehensible for him. He didn't understand why this person was obsessed with getting back something which was purposely to be lost? Why would anyone want to hold on to grief when they could choose happiness?

"Damnit! He, Feliciano… needs to grow up properly. If, if he lacks certain emotions and when the time… when a time comes again… he would just run away."

(Ah.)

A spark of a little realization hit Arthur but his instincts as the heart collector took over. In a condescending tone, he spoke.

"Don't you think too high of yourself? You say that this is for your younger brother but maybe you are only doing it for yourself. Feliciano chose out of his own will to get rid of his grief. So you have no right to interfere. As I can see it, you cannot bear that Feliciano is happy and you are still in wallows of grief. You are pitiful."

The bright green eyes of Arthur darkened by a shade and those eyes saw how the brunet visibly flinched.

"Bastard!"

The brunet stood up from the bed and just in the nick of time, Arthur was able to dodge the punch which would have landed on his face. Instead of thinking a counterattack or defense, the first thoughts of the heart collector was to get ahold of the emotions which were penned down. However, the other occupant of the room was holding on to the bottle tightly.

"Get out of my house!"

"…"

(Dimwitted human, of course I want to leave your presence. However,)

"I cannot. I will not until you hand over that bottle."

"Huh? But I didn't write anything here."

"You are a terrible liar. I wouldn't be here if all that is inside that bottle is an empty paper."

"Then, then… damnit. Let's trade! I will give this bottle for my brother's emotions."

Arthur's mouth pursed to a thin line. This man in front of him was trouble. Never had he experienced so much annoyances until he stepped foot near this man's bed. His answer would obviously be no but… but…

(Unbelievable, this brat is trying to outwit me.)

"Come on! Give me your damn answer!"

The two could not continue the conversation as Arthur immediately vanished to thin air. His body was once again being pulled to another direction but instead of being brought to another individual who is actually seeking for the heart collector, he was brought back to the brick house he first woke up in. This only meant one thing: he failed and he would have to try again to get that piece of paper.

END OF PART ONE.