Dark skies
Loomed ahead
Menacing signs
A prelude
To a grim melée
Between two evils
A chess match
The cynic
And the devil.
A deadly mind game
Entertainment
For sadists
A challenge
For pessimists.
They say
Disputes
Make
Or
Unmake
A man.
If so
Then this is the moment
Where he triumphs
Or collapses.
The cry of defeat
Is always stronger
Than the cheers
Of victory.
Donning a crisp grey suit
Jet black tie
An image
Sinister accents
Sharp dressed man.
He was a sheep in wolves' clothing.
Finding humor
In his predicament
It was a conniving show
A pristine farce
Mask of black ice
To blend
In the darkness.
All men wear masks.
But tonight
He puts on a suit
Literally and figuratively
A skin
Camoflauge his flaws
Feign perfection
Under the condescending gazes
Of aristocrats
He was soon bound to meet.
Arrival
And the clock strikes seven
Before him
What seemed to be a palace
Of grandeur scale
Emanating
Certain velocity
Of royalty.
Marble steps
A thin coat of water
Like a mirror
Disturbed by systematic drops
Of cold rain
Reflections of light
With each step
A sinister atmosphere
Lurked around him
As he walked
Into the belly
Of the beasts.
Finding himself
Before a certain devil woman
With a dangerous smile
A dress of dark scarlet
Befitting of a temptress.
It was a lethal affair
Leaving no room for blunder
A small fracture
On his crystal mask
Difference
Between failure
Or success.
For tonight
He was one of them
A mimic
Of presumed splendor
Extravagance
Perfection.
He would slap himself
For becoming
The very thing
He loathed
Despised
An illusion
A shell
Surreal character
A masked person.
Her arms wrapped around his
And if before
He would lose composure
Otherwise submit and follow
Now
He was the one
Who had the devil
On par
Equal ground.
Penetrating glares
Perhaps of surprise
Or prejudice
A greeting
As they appeared
In a royal hall
Before a table
Nobles of the social hierarchy
An intimidating sight
But he would have to
Hold his ground.
It was surrealistic
A peasant such as him
Daring to stand among
The lords
And mistresses
Of the capitalist summit.
Corinthian pillars
Walls lined
With crimson felt
An exquisite chandelier
Of diamond and gold
A bright incandescence
Unveiling before him
By a stroke of luck
Or curse
Faces
One of the last things
He wanted to see
And the law of Murphy holds true
Bad
Gets a whole lot
Worse.
Because as he conjured the scene
It would be apparent to him
That the people in the room
All add up
To a dire
Conclusion.
The motive
Behind the invitation
He had predicted correctly
But even his calculations
Were rendered irrelevant
By a volatile factor
Which would be
The presence
Of two
Individuals.
"Mama. Papa."
Cold sweat
Trickled down his back
Upon the mention
Of names
Which confirmed
His suspicions.
Realization dawned upon him
This was
In fact
Another game
No backing out now
Finish it
And win.
"I would like to introduce a guest."
Her hand motioned for me.
My cue.
"Hikigaya. Hikigaya Hachiman. A pleasure to meet you, madam. Sir."
In perhaps a bold act
Of confidence
Or suicidal foolishness
He offered his hand
And though he expected otherwise
The man shook it
And he kissed
The hand
Of the lady.
"Haruno. I was not expecting any more guests this evening."
There was a certain level
Of coldness
In the woman's voice
Far more intimidating
Than those of a certain
Ice queen.
Compared to the lady
In front of him
She paled down to a degree
That it would be fair
To consider her demeanor
Warm
In contrast
To this woman
Her mother.
"Apologies ma'am. She wished for me to accompany her to this meeting. If my presence is unwanted, I shall gladly take leave."
With such an interjection
He would have to re-evaluate
His mental state
To find out
He was either a lunatic
Or a real fraud.
On the other hand
It was a valid excuse
To escape
The damned place.
Dead eyes met dark blue ones
And he may as well
Look at death
Right in the eye
For he was face to face
With a woman
Of a caliber
Overshadowing
Even the devil
Beside him
Looking to his direction
With a stunned gaze
As if he had done
Something
Dangerous.
Impossible.