? Not For Your Easy Pleasure ?
The sun was low when Alex stepped out of Harris’s shop, the wooden sign creaking faintly behind him. He'd spent the afternoon dusting, sorting, and restocking — small, honest things. And for the first time in two days, something in him felt… right. Like a knot had loosened.
He had his job back and old man Harris apologized. He was even searching for him and that meant something to the boy.
And now, walking toward the plaza, he told himself this was how he'd stay grounded. Surrounded by ordinary people. Earning his days. Holding onto a simple life. Fighting his guilt. Making up for every mission, every life, every soul that gets lost to the mob's greed.
That’s when he saw her. The girl he was looking for.
By the fountain of the plaza.
Like she told him.
Noor.
She stood as if the city weren’t there. Neat, simple clothes. A kind of calm that didn’t belong to someone her age. Her long blonde hair framed her face, barely stirred by the breeze. Her violin resting on her shoulder, her bow already mid-sweep.
Alex stopped.
It was the first time he is hearing her play.
She wasn't just good.
She was astonishing.
The music flowed. Warm, steady. Her eyes were closed. Her posture straight. As if the violin wasn’t something she held, but something she was.
So he stood there, letting her music fill the space inside him where words had failed all day.
Then he turned just slightly.
And it hit him.
All that focus from her.
That poise.
That stillness filled with movement.
The kind of discipline that wasn’t loud or proud.
The kind that came from years of playing without applause, of showing up every day, of choosing precision over attention.
And only nine people were watching.
No.
Eight. One had just left.
Alex almost moved, as if to stop him, to shout “Are you blind?”
But he didn’t.
She gave everything. And the world gave her a few glances.
The rest of the crowd in the plaza passed. Looked. Didn’t see.
But Alex saw. And somehow, that made the ache sharper.
Noor on the other hand, was still playing, completely unbothered, fully focused on her music. Maybe she didn't even notice the man who just left.
And finally, she finished.
She opened her eyes slowly. And bowed.
A few certain claps came from seven out of the eight onlookers. Alex joined in, clapping harder than the rest.
Three people tossed a few coins into the open case. One tossed more than just a few and smiled at her.
Then they all left.
Noor was still bowing.
She didn’t check the coins. Didn’t look up to see who stayed or who walked away.
She played.
She bowed.
That was all.
Once the last footsteps faded, Alex cleared his throat.
“H-Hey, Noor.”
She raised her head and smiled, as if she’d been expecting him.
“Hello, friend.”
Alex reached into his pocket and tossed a coin in.
“Awesome,” he said, a bit awkward. “You’re really good.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“Though... I’ve never heard a violin before. But that was... that was wonderful. It moved me.”
Noor studied him quietly. His voice didn’t flatter. It didn’t reach. It just reflected what he felt.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said, with calm sincerity.
Alex rubbed his neck.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t thank you for last time. Didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Alex.”
Noor smiled gently.
“The name fits you, Alex. You look much better now than last time.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“How did the job hunt go?”
Alex laughed, a little sheepish.
“I actually found one right after your speech… then lost it... and got it back today.”
Noor's smile widened just a touch.
“See? I knew you had a strong grip.”
He couldn't help but chuckle at that one. That's what she said on the day he met her.
“You look older, for some reason,” she said softly.
Alex blinked.
“Y-Yeah… a lot happened since last time. Guess the city is getting to me.”
Noor held his gaze.
“Don’t lose, Alex.”
He nodded, her words from the first time they met echoing in his mind.
He had meant to tell her about his doubts—the fear and the guilt of helping criminals... and even starting to like one. But watching her now, bowing with dignity to a mostly empty street, pouring her heart into music that very few seemed to hear… he thought.
"She has this mysterious way of handling things. Almost as if nothing will shake her. Maybe I could learn something from her."
The boy glanced toward the plaza, buzzing with noise and people.
“Um... doesn’t it bother you?” he asked.
Noor blinked.
“I mean... out of that whole crowd… only nine people and myself stopped.”
She looked at him for a moment. Then said, simply,
“I’m used to it. Sometimes more people stop. Sometimes less. Sometimes no one.”
Alex said quietly,
“It’s not fair for you.”
Noor smiled at the simple, genuine concern. She had long gone numb to that feeling. But Alex still felt it in her place… and that mattered.
She lowered her violin with care and slid it into its case with the reverence of someone tucking a sleeping child beneath warm covers. The latches clicked shut.
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She slung the case over her shoulder.
“Come,” she said, her voice light as wind brushing over water. “Walk with me.”
He watched her approach the fountain—not the path beside it, but the narrow ledge that framed its basin like the rim of a chalice. The water shimmered below. Noor stepped onto the ledge as if stepping onto solid ground, her balance unshaken, her hands folding calmly behind her back.
Alex raised a brow. “It’s a bit narrow,” he said, hesitating a step behind. “We might fall in.”
“We won’t,” she replied, without turning her head. “Just follow my lead.”
Then she began to walk.
Not a glance downward. Not a waver. Her steps were steady, deliberate, graceful in their ease.
Alex exhaled softly. He stepped up after her.
He held out his arms slightly for balance and followed, three steps behind.
“Tell me, Alex,” Noor said, still facing forward and walking. “How many people do you think are in the plaza right now?”
"The whole Plaza?"
"Yes."
Alex glanced back.
“Um… thirty? forty?”
“fifty-three,” she replied, calm and exact. “Just from my angle earlier.”
His lips parted in disbelief. He quickened his pace, catching up.
“You… counted them?”
“I do that a lot. Of course the number changes every few seconds. Only nine out of all these people stopped for my play, which is not bad to be honest."
She stopped and looked up at the sky, then lowered her gaze, speaking more softly.
“I started playing in the streets when I was eight. Practiced all the time. Wrote my own songs, shaped with care. I put pieces of myself into every one.”
Alex said nothing. He just listened.
“And the first time I stepped onto the street and played…”
She turned to meet his gaze.
“No one stopped that day.”
The words landed in Alex’s chest like a dull punch.
He looked away, unsure what to say.
“It hurt.” Noor said gently. “That my work, my effort, my violin… all of it went unnoticed.”
She didn’t let the weight linger.
She turned and resumed walking. Alex followed, silent.
“So I tried different spots. Started counting onlookers. Trying to figure out a pattern. Who paused. Who clapped. Who looked away. What days people smiled more. What kind of wind brought softer footsteps. Which hour made men glance, and what mood made women cheer or frown... Eventually, I had a big crowd.”
Alex smiled faintly.
“I was so happy. Thought of the coins I’d earn.’”
She let out a breath of a laugh.
“And right then… I missed a note.”
Alex flinched.
“Just one. But it felt like the violin was punishing me. A woman in the back laughed. Some people walked away. One muttered 'She must be a novice'.”
She tilted her head, as if smiling at a memory she could now view with distance.
“That night, I cried.”
Alex said quietly,
“I'm... sorry to hear that. It was just one mistake. It happens.”
“True. But after that, I started chasing the crowd. Changed my melodies. Brightened endings. Sharpened rhythms. I played to please them. To make them stop. To be noticed. To be rewarded.”
Her gaze shifted, subtly.
“I had a few big crowds occasionally, but nothing major... It can't be helped. People in such big cities are too tired. Too burdened. They count every coin. Rush between worries. Barely holding their lives together.”
"Doesn't... the same go for you?You need the money to survive as well." Alex asked with a flicker of worry in his eyes.
"What I make is more than enough for basic needs. Bread. Water. Though I do reward myself with a little piece of cake if I can afford it."
It made sense to Alex. She was dressing modestly. No jewels. No expensive clothes.
“And I am not mad at the people living here." she continued, "It’s hard to listen when your stomach growls, or your rent’s late, or the factory cuts your hours again. Some have simply other tastes. That doesn’t make them wrong.”
Her voice lowered as she turned to fully face him. Her smile never faded.
“But others… other's hearts are owned by other things.”
She motioned gently to the side.
Alex followed her gesture.
And saw it.
A long queue stretched outside a brightly lit casino, its neon signs flickering against the early dusk. A few men jostled near the entrance, voices raised in argument. One desperate man, his face drawn and pale, pressed his worn coat into another’s hands—a silent offering in exchange for a lost bet. Nearby, a group of onlookers muttered under their breath, eyes flickering between the quarrel and the glittering doors beyond. The man that earlier left, the one Alex was about to call out, was there as well.
Just beyond the casino, a narrow alley spilled into shadows. Women stood there, their figures outlined by the dim glow of gas lamps, beckoning to passing men with practiced smiles and sharp eyes. Many of those men wore wedding rings—married men sneaking away from their homes and families. One of them bent low, speaking quietly to his son, no older than ten, sending him off to wait by a nearby shop, a silent signal in this harsh, tangled city.
Alex's fists curled.
That was where the people were. Not a quarter of them had paused to hear the girl playing her soul into strings and silence.
He looked back at her—and froze.
She was still watching the casino and the narrow alley beside it.
Still smiling — but differently now. A quieter kind of smile, one that left Alex guessing.
It might've been pity. Or amusement.
Or both.
Then, her expression softened.
“Most crave the dazzling, not the delicate,” she said. “They want spectacle, not substance. Easy tales, not truths.”
She caressed the violin case on her shoulder.
“But beauty is patient. And demands to be understood, not consumed.”
A long silence followed.
“And eventually, I realized something,” she went on. “The more I tried to please the world, the uglier my music became. I almost forgot why I began playing at all.”
Noor’s voice lowered to something nearly reverent.
“I love the violin. I play for me.”
She paused, then looked at Alex, not with sadness, but with clarity.
“I’m here to share, not to perform. I don’t need the whole world to stop and listen. I don’t want to prove anything anymore. I just need one soul, every now and then, to hear me.”
She smiled again—a genuine beautiful one that made Alex blush.
“And today, you did. For that, I thank you, Alex.”
The boy looked at her. Amazed. The devotion. The mentality. The fact that she was composing at eight—or maybe even younger—playing at thirteen, in a city buried in crime, corruption, and ghosts.
She fought. Alone. Still a little girl.
And she won.
Not fame. But peace.
And maybe fame would come to her one day.
The city might not be that bad.
Not with someone like her playing in the heart of the plaza.
The heart of the city.
He finally spoke.
“My pleasure, Noor. Please… keep playing. Forever. And I’ll be in the front line, cheering for you.”
Noor nodded.
“I will.”
Alex hopped down, then he couldn't help but wonder. There was something he couldn't understand.
“…Wait. Why did we walk on the edge of the fountain again?”
Noor hopped down in perfect balance from the fountain’s edge and landed lightly beside him. Her hands still behind her back.
“It was a little game,” she said softly. “A small distraction to whatever monster was bothering you.”
Alex blinked.
“...Huh?”
Her eyes narrowed. Calm, unreadable. Yet it felt like she was seeing through him—past his face, past the words he hadn’t said, right into the things that haunted him. The guilt. The fear. The weight of everything he didn’t know how to name.
It sent a quiet chill through him.
"Did she know? That I wanted to talk?"
"Old man Harris could tell, too, but... this? This was different."
Then—
"Wait..."
Now that he thought about it, the tension had settled.
Not gone. But less loud. Less sharp.
Noor went on, as if answering what he hadn’t dared ask.
“I sensed a monster within you. My music weakened it,” she said. “The walk on the edge distracted it. Our talk knocked it cold.”
She looked up at the sky.
“It’ll wake up again. So keep it in check.”
“That’s how you fight fears and troubles, Alex. Hobbies. Games. Friends. Your job will help too if you like it.”
Alex didn’t speak for a second. Something about what she said made no sense. And yet, it did. Like a dream that lingers after waking. You know it’s strange, but something inside believes it anyway.
“…Can I kill it?” he asked quietly.
Noor looked at him. No smile. “No,” she said. “It’s part of you now. But tame it. Don’t let it take over.”
Alex held her gaze. Then looked down.
"I'm... not like you, Noor."
"You're not ?" She tilted her head. Amused.
Alex nodded
"You were hustling and fighting for years. Alone, it seems. You are strong."
Hi jaw tightened a little.
"I lived peacefully my whole life. Things were... easy for me until I moved here."
Noor's voice returned.
"You are like me."
Alex raised his head to look at her.
"What am I, Alex ?" She asked. Still smiling gently.
The boy blinked, confused by the question. So he stood still, hoping she would give the answer herself.
"I'm a child. Like you."
She let the words settle. Then added. Softer.
"Loneliness? It could have crushed me."
"Your peaceful life? It could have spoiled you."
"Those things could have shaped us."
Her eyes darkened with a quiet certainty.
"But we won."
"Because we shaped them back. Because we turned them into strength. Because we chose who we became"
"Don't underestimate us children, Alex. No one sees us coming."
"We can be more capable than half of the adults running this world."
The air felt heavier.
Alex stood still and watched her in silence—this blonde beautiful girl with the calm voice and ancient gaze, like something out of a story whispered around candlelight.
For a moment, he remembered the first time he saw her. How she recited those weird speeches like prophecies. How the world seemed to lean in just to listen. And now, so did he. Again.
Then Noor gave a polite little nod.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting dark. I’ll take my leave.”
Alex took a step forward.
“Can I walk you? Please? You helped me,” he said, more serious. “More than you think.”
“I don’t live far,” Noor answered gently. “You should go home too. I appreciate the offer, Alex.”
Then she turned, violin case over her shoulder, and walked away.
“Remember,” she called back without looking, “Don’t lose. And I'll be here in the fountain, as always."
Alex stood there for a long moment. Then smiled.
“I’ll come and we can play again!”
She raised a hand in farewell. Graceful, distant. And as she disappeared into the street’s fading light, Alex watched her go, deep down declaring her as his mentor and tutor. And still wondering— how someone so young could fight monsters so well. And if loneliness, obscurity and silence were the only ones she encountered. And defeated.
Thank you for reading :)
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