The Prince's Chess Piece
Tasteful
“There is always a solution path for each problem”, the sentence repeatedly crosses Kinanthi's mind realm. However, in reality his brain is too shallow to find a way out of the problems he is facing.
Just last night he broke into Mr. Nabastala's house and is now trapped by his own folly. Trapped in a more appropriate room is called a barn with a half-naked body. His hands crossed just to dispel the cold that came ambushing.
Almost three hours locked in the room without being able to find a solution to his condition. Arghhc ... Kinanthi groaned, grabbing her own hair. He felt really stupid and began to despair.
Hc .. tok.
There was a knock on the door, Kinanthi rushed to open it. Because he thought it was Mr. Herman, judging from the way he knocked on the door politely.
Kinanthi poked her head at the door she opened slightly. His eyes widened, discovering who was standing before him.
“Master,” hisses down.
“Open the door,” the master's orders with a firm tone.
“Ehm.”
Kinanthi hid half of her body behind the door she had just opened. Observing the steps of the master who walked behind him.
“Close the door.” Again the master ruled with his firm voice.
Without answering, Kinanthi closed the door. Feelings of anxiety back up, lest his master will do anything again.
“Ngapain stay there? Nih, use,” orders Mr. Nabastala while putting a nude paper bag on a pile of cardboard containing kitchen utensils.
With doubt Kinanthi accepted the master's gift, but closed it open.
“Open, and wear!” mr. Nabastala shouted annoyed with Kinanthi's actions.
Kinanthi. His face bowed, he saw a floor made of shiny white granite that was able to reflect the shadow of his face.
“Kinan,” shouted the master loudly.
Mr. Nabastala is riled up by Kinanthi's behavior. His hands were crossed with a face of wrath. He kicked an empty gallon bottle as an impingement of his regret that happened to be beside him standing. The kick pointed right at Kinanthi's body.
Dang.
Kinanthi tried to avoid. However, damn. The movement was less rapid, and an empty gallon bottle landed right on his leg leaving a bruise on the calf.
“Auhhh.” Kinanthi squealed in pain while holding the painful part of her leg.
“Snail basics. Can not, just useful a little?”
Mr. Nabastala was getting riled up, he was getting sick of Kinanthi who was exactly that snot boy.
“Sorry, Sir,” shrewd Kinanthi.
“Speaking sorry, is there any point?”
“I'll learn to do better, Mister?”
“Until when? Wait for a snail to fly?”
Hearing the master's words, Kinanthi smiled with innocence. He doesn't care even if he's being ridiculed. Kinanthi would rather see her master mocking like that than get angry.
“Why smile?”
“Ehm .... Love to see you mocking me like that, rather than raging gallons. It hurts this affected.”
“You are crazy,” maki the Lord.
“Maybe my brain is following the shorting, sir. Because ngadepin Tuan who likes to be angry just.”
“Kinan!”
“Sorry.”
“Heh, basic boy.” He drew Kinanthi's hand rough, with wide steps he headed towards the door.
“Where to, Mister?”
“Silence, Snail bringel.”
Kinanthi followed the footsteps of his master who would somehow take him to where. He did not dare to ask, afraid of being yelled at again.
“Good morning, Mister!” greet Mr. Herman who passed when he wanted to climb the stairs.
“Mm ... morning,” replied Mr. Nabastala ketus.
Kinanthi climbed the stairs one by one. His breathing hunts, he cannot balance his footsteps with the agile steps of the master.
“Master,” hiss Kinanthi.
“Mmm.” The master stopped swinging a step, turning his head towards Kinanthi. “Why?”
“Kinan, unable, Mr.”
“Ndak be able?”
“Iya—”
Of course as an educated person, the master understands what he has to do. Without thinking for longer, Kinanthi's body was carried to his room. It was her first time caring about others.
••••
Kinanthi's eyes blinked, opening them slowly. Crystal lights are white with a combination of yellow color that is said to be able to give a relaxing effect hanging on the ceiling of the room.
He turned to the left, a large glass window with a balcony view full of various ornamental plants. The curtains are yellow, matching the combination of hanging crystal lamps. Kinanthi's heart clucked, admiring all the beauty he had just seen.
“Have you guys?”
Kinanthi turned to the origin of the voice, looking at Mr. Nabastala who was sitting on the sofa while holding a black functional tablet. He felt awkward, trying to grab the blanket that covered his body. Move over.
“Where to?” He placed the functional tablet carefully, then sat down next to Kinanthi
“I'm here, Mister?”
“Where do you want?”
Kinanthi ruffled her hair. Confused what to answer.
“Jelek tauk.”
“Hah?”
“Other times don't be ruffled like it's her hair. Not good to see.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Kinanthi is indeed a girl who is still innocent, her soul has not been contaminated by the city's strange association. That was why the master was willing to accept Kinanthi's request when he wanted to pawn his body, as a form of accountability.
When the characters from the rare animated series Star Wars, at fantastic prices, Mr. Nabastala had just been hunted with difficulty, and in a blink of an eye Kinanthi had ruined it.
Of course it makes Mr. Nabastala floundering. A re-enactment in his memory recalls when he grabbed Kinanthi's hair. Makes the girl grimace in pain. His innocent face looks tempting, his calm attitude in the face of problems reflects the elegance he has.
“Kinan.”
“Iya, Mr.”
“Sorry.” The sentence was heard softly, sliding from Mr. Nabastala's lips.
“Master is sorry? For what?”
Again the innocence of Kinanthi printed clearly from the way he looked, his two eyebrows linked to describe a deep curiosity.
Until the silence came, the master was still silent. He looked at Kinanthi's face fixedly, sort of looking for something from that plain face without that make up. Don't know what.
“Ehm.”
Like Mr. Herman deliberately cleared his throat in front of the open door, breaking both absurd thoughts between the two.
“Come in, sir,” order Mr. Nabastala without turning towards the voice. Because he has memorized the behavior of his personal assistant.
“Master, this is Non Kinan.” pulp
“Outmost time?” ask the master with a brush.
“Kan the material should be shopping first, Mr.” Mr. Herman gave a reasonable excuse. “I put it here.” A bowl of white marrow porridge is placed on the nightstand.
“Mm. Thank you, Mr.”
“If there is no need for me to go outside first, Mr.”
Mr. Herman's smile widened towards Kinanthi. “The porridge do not forget to be eaten, Non.” Exactly how a father protects his daughter.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Eat first, gih!” the master's orders, moving.
Kinanthi understood, he was just a slave in that luxurious mansion. So you can't expect more from Mr. Nabastala's kindness. He shuffled, slowly shifting his body towards the edge of the bed.
Her eyes widened, finding a blue-colored blouse with detailed back buttons adhering beautifully to her tiny body, without subordinates. It was just the pink panties she was wearing.
Is it all the Master who bought it?
“Mr earlier—?” Kinanthi's eyes turned to look at his master who was also looking at him.
“Hem. It was a birthmark, ugly. But it's better. Because at first I thought the cockroaches were tacky because you're a slob.”
Kinanthi gawked, continuing to look at him the master who began to laugh loosely. “Sucks.” His hand nimbly threw the pillow that was beside him. Right about Mr. Nabastala's handsome face.
“Habisin first the porridge, keep resting. Many tasks that you must immediately do.”
Kinanthi nodded in understanding before leaving her alone in the room. His feelings also warmed up along with the marrow pulp he swallowed.
It turns out that a Nabastala Narendra is not as cruel as he imagined. In fact, he had just been silent when thrown a pillow, even with the intention of joking. If so, everything will go fine.
Kinanthi knew that nothing in the universe could be denied. Including his presence in Nabastala Narendra's mansion where he mortgaged himself.
