Mr. Cobalt’s faltering eyes dart in multiple directions except my squinted ones. He keeps on swallowing but unable to spit a word.
“Who is Vladimir?” I ask one more time.
“I-it’s a…r-random name I c-chose when I p-published the b-book.”
“Why didn’t you explain that earlier, back when you were on the stage?”
He laughs, a forced and awkward one. “To be honest, I forgot that I did put a different name. Just realized it when you brought it up.”
“Mr. Cobalt,” I say then take a breath before proceeding. “Your name itself is a fake one. You made it, you created it to live in your Shakespeare’s fantasy.”
He takes a step back then loosens his necktie. His hand travels to his hair and his fingers scratch his head.
“Are you, by any chance, Vladimir Santiago?”
His eyes agape with his mouth.
