'Who is that?' Alessandro was on his balcony getting some fresh air after a long day – made even longer because he was distracted in the latter part of his meetings – when he heard the girl's question. It was the first time she had ever given any indication that she could hear him, and he grabbed the railing in bated anticipation. "Can you… hear me?" he asked, holding his breath.
'Who are you?' I asked again, clutching the handkerchief to my chest. There was definitely no one else in the room – at least, no one that I could see – but the voice came once more, very clearly, dispelling my notion that I had merely imagined it.
"I can't believe you can hear me!" Alessandro said excitedly. "Finally." He'd been wondering how long he was going to have one-sided conversations with the girl, but now it seemed that they could talk to each other at last. And this couldn't have come at a better time for him because he was getting increasingly curious about her, particularly after he had heard her crying today. Twice.
'Yes, I can hear you,' I replied. 'But who exactly are you?' I asked for the third time, feeling my fear slowly getting replaced with mild irritation. It was one of my pet peeves. It always annoyed me when someone answered my question with another question.
Alessandro hesitated, not wanting to reveal his identity right away. "How about you?" he replied, diverting the topic back at her. "What's your name?"
I scoffed at his statement, now flat out annoyed. The nerve of this guy to keep throwing the question back to me! 'I'm 20,' I replied with a sigh, giving in. I felt that if I didn't answer his question, we might be going around in circles all night.
"20?" Alessandro repeated, amused. "What kind of name is that?"
'It's the truth,' I answered, hearing the barely contained laughter in his voice. It irked me that he thought my name was funny. 'What's your name?' I challenged.
Alessandro paused for a moment, thinking how to answer her. Since she wasn't inclined to give her real name – he didn't believe her actual name was really 20 – he thought he might do the same. Both of them could play this game, after all. "I'm 1," he said, and he smiled broadly. He felt proud that he came up with that. In a roundabout way it was true, since he was the number 1 person in Luxentfort Empire.
'And you're judging me for having a funny name?' I was affronted. He had no right to make fun of me when he was also referred to by a number. Then I remembered what 19 had told me when we first met, the morning she had brought coffee to my room – that only concubines were addressed with numbers. If that was the case, he could very well be a male concubine of a high ranking noble lady, maybe even a princess or a queen. But I'd rather die than ask him that question straight away – and within the first few minutes of meeting him, no less.
Alessandro heard the outrage in the girl's voice, and he covered up his laugh with a cough. "I didn't mean to offend you," he said sincerely, and that was true. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. "By the way, may I ask why you were crying earlier?"
'You heard that?' I gasped. Tonight was the first time I had ever heard his voice, but I didn't consider that it might not be the same for him.
"Yes," Alessandro confirmed. "I've been able to hear you randomly for quite a while now."
'Really?' I was surprised. 'But I've never heard you before now.'
"It would seem that way," Alessandro said. "So why were you crying?" He didn't want to let go of his question. He really wanted to know the reason. More than that, he wanted to know how he could help her. But it wasn't an impulsive decision on his part, something he would say lightly on a whim. Since the moment her voice had pulled him from the edge of death when he was gravely injured, he had never considered her a stranger.
At his persistent question, my mind raced through the events of the day, and I felt the sadness envelop me again. 'I realized I may have lost something permanently,' I answered him, letting go of the handkerchief.
"20, are you still there?" Alessandro asked, but he couldn't hear her anymore. This time, though, he felt that she may have cut off their conversation voluntarily, and it made him even more anxious because she did so without giving him the chance to offer her some help.
I looked at the handkerchief I had dropped on the bed. 'Hello, 1? Can you still hear me?' I ventured to ask, though I was only met with silence. It was the first time I had held the handkerchief that long; usually I just kept it stashed in my pocket. Was it because I was clutching it that I was able to hear 1? Could he be the owner of the handkerchief? My questions seemed reasonable enough. Too bad that I was simply too exhausted to even attempt to answer them. 'It will all get sorted out eventually,' I concluded, dragging myself to bed.
*****
Alessandro was getting dressed early the next morning. He had a sketchy sleep the night before, antsy that his first ever conversation with the girl ended abruptly. And as soon as he was awake, he had kept his ears attuned to any sound that may indicate her presence. He figured he might as well start preparing for work while he was at it.
"Your breakfast is ready, Sire," Rocco announced. He was mildly surprised that the emperor had gotten up much earlier than usual. Alessandro wasn't really much of a morning person. He preferred to sleep in late and then work until late in the evening too. But because the emperor had decided to start his day early for some reason, Rocco had to rouse the imperial kitchen staff to prepare Alessandro's breakfast on a short notice.
"Very well," Alessandro acknowledged, giving his butler a perfunctory nod. He was almost done buttoning his shirt when he heard the girl's unmistakable voice. '1, can you hear me?'
Alessandro lifted his head, his fingers freezing on the buttons. He turned to Rocco, "You can go now."
Right after his butler had left, Alessandro hurriedly addressed the girl. "Yes. I can hear you, 20," he replied.
I was in my room, dressed for work already. I was about to quickly stow the handkerchief in my apron pocket like I always did in the morning, but had decided to test out something first. I held the fabric and called out to the guy, and when I had heard his prompt reply, it confirmed my theory. Somehow – I didn't know how – the handkerchief really did seem to connect us.
"It appears that I had upset you last night," Alessandro continued. "I didn't mean to intrude upon your privacy." He was eager to clear their misunderstanding, and that was the closest thing to an apology that he had ever said. Not that she was aware of it, of course.
'It's fine,' I said, hearing the sincerity in his voice. 'But I don't want to talk about it.'
"As you wish," Alessandro agreed.
I smiled. My first impression of him wasn't very good – actually it was quite bad. But he certainly seemed a lot more amiable this morning than he was last night. Then I heard a knock on my door, followed by 19's upbeat voice. "Do you want to have breakfast together?" she called. I could never say no to good food, especially when I knew the alternative to that if I arrived late for breakfast. I grabbed an egg tart on the bedside table. I had especially saved one for 19 during my dinner with Caio last night. I knew she liked desserts as much as I did.
'I have to go, 1,' I said in a rush. 'Let's talk again later?'
"Yes," Alessandro replied. "I'll wait for you." And he realized that he meant just that. He really was looking forward to talking with her again – and soon. He had previously thought that being able to hear the girl already afforded a fairly good glimpse of her personality. But as he had easily discovered last night, it paled in comparison to actually having a conversation with her. She was a study in contrasts, managing to seem equally direct and mysterious, agreeable and strong-willed.
"Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" Rocco asked when he had finally sat down for breakfast.
"It's better than all right," Alessandro said, his good mood evident. He started lathering butter on his toast. "It's great."
Rocco looked at him curiously as he poured him coffee, but Alessandro didn't comment any further. What was the use? His butler – or anyone else – couldn't hear 20, anyway. Only he could.