The Mesmerizer Quotes

“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!— 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 … 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

“He finishes the tea with a single swallow. Breathing deeper, he senses the energy beneath his skin. He focuses on the minute smells in the air, catching the scent of a recently varnished piano—it’s not here, not in the lounge, but the Mesmerizer can smell it along with its premium packaging—vinyl blanket and wooden box. He smirks.
That Monk mocks. Challenges. ”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“That Monk mocks. Challenges.
It’s the same old issue with the idealists. They judge the devil, and people call them the humans of light. However, the Mesmerizer agrees little with the Monk. The Mesmerizer will prove that even a monk may fall prey to the devil. He knows that man will try to avoid the dark path. He knows that man will try to stay a purist.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“The Mesmerizer accepts the challenge. He will prove even such monks as him can be tainted. When that man enters the dark world, he will arrange a blazing orchestra, a homecoming gift. And he will arrange it with the thing the Monk has sent him—the piano.”
― 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

“He senses his feet touching the floor; he tunes himself to the universe. The waves of prana in the floor and the push of music relax his muscles.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Bring wine,” he mutters. “She’s an old friend.” 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,” 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

“For a woman, who once was a yearning of the Mesmerizer, anything is possible.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“He tried to make me work. With him,” he says truthfully, just as a war hero, the owner of a strong voice, should.

“You are wrong, Yuan,” Mee-Hae says, half-worried and half-angry, her voice suddenly quivering. “He wanted to make you work. With or without him.”

“I have to stop him,” the Monk says.

“Am I the bait?”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Their master, and not his.”
― 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,” the Mesmerizer mutters. The air turns denser. If air had consciousness, it would feel the weight of his voice now—the King of Mesmerizers’ 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

“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

“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,” 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,” the Mesmerizer says, still naked and finally replying to whatever the woman said earlier. “Especially, someone from a spy organization,” he adds, “in her full uniform and armed, no less.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“It’s not him,” 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.” 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 … achieve.” After several more moments of gazing at nothing in particular into the forest, she suddenly faces the Monk. “I want answers, Yuan,” she says.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Oh, yes, busy was the word. Always.” 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 … achieve.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“People with no desire to live have no right to exist,” he says, “They’re insults to the meaning of life.” 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,” he (Ruem) says.”
― Misba, The High Auction

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

“Master Ruem, a shipment has arrived,” Maroc says. “Premium packaging, express delivery, includes two-hundred-percent insurance. The sender’s address is Lotus Lodge, North Alpha.” He glances at the Mesmerizer from the corner of his eyes who now stops drinking. “It’s a grand piano. Decades-old model.” Maroc reveals.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

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

“Maroc Metz nods like a loyal knight. He doesn’t complain that the tea in his own cup has turned into ice because of his Master Ruem’s Will of Slayer. He doesn’t ask what this dead bird means. He only guesses. The Mesmerizer taught him enough about alchemy, especially, dark alchemy, to know what it might be.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance