ISABELLA NIGHTFALL'S POV:
"Yesss!!! Today's the day our dreams finally come true!" Sophie exclaimed.
"Yeah, today is the day I sacrificed my initial dreams for," Claire smiled.
"Eh? Performing in public isn't your dream?" Sophie asked.
"It wasn't my initial dream, idiot. But now, I've gotten a little ambitious, and my new dream is to perform at the Celestara Dome!" Claire chuckled.
"Haha," I laughed. "That's my dream as well!!"
"Huh? So I'm the only one with an easy-to-fulfil dream?" Sophie crossed her arms. "Hmph! How could you two leave me out like this?" She puffed her cheeks.
"Hahaha!" The three of us laughed together in the classroom.
"Hey, Isabella," Someone patted my shoulder. I turned around to see my classmate, Bianca. "I heard that you'd be performing at Glimmer-Glass Plaza tonight. Is that true?" Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"Yeah! Our concert starts at 07.00 p.m. sharp tonight!" I pumped up my fist enthusiastically.
"Really?" The girls behind her giggled. "We'll make sure to be there tonight!!" She exclaimed with glee before returning to her seat with her classmates.
"Students, please return to your seats. Class is starting soon," Ms Lexi walked into the classroom.
"Ms Lexi!" Sophie stood in front of Ms Lexi. "Will you attend our concert at Glimmer-Glass Plaza today at seven? We've reserved one of the front seats for you!"
I smiled.
Sophie is really trying her best to include everybody important to her.
"Of course! Your family members will be coming right?" She asked. But somehow, I felt like she was directing the question at me.
"My Big Sis and Brother won't be able to make it, they said they're busy," I lowered my head.
"I see," Ms Lexi looked even more disappointed than I was. But she didn't forget to add, "Don't worry, Isabella, I'll be there to support you!"
"Thank you!" I forced a smile.
That's all they need, no, want to see.
Happy Ella.
They don't care about how you actually feel. As long as you act like an obedient doll, everyone will love you.
Smile when you mean it, smile when you don't.
They don't care.
Put on a nice smile on your pretty face.
That's all they want.
"You need to learn to laugh at suffering." I had told myself yesterday.
I had prepared myself today.
And yet...
I still want Big Sis and Brother to come.
~~~~~~~~~~
You didn't care about my opinion at all, Brother.
So why did you ask me that day?
Why did you ask me to decide for you when you were going to go anyway?
Does my opinion even matter to you?
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
"You're so pathetic," I laughed at myself. "Did you actually think that he, who has so much power, would actually listen to you?" Tears streaked down my face, ruining my light makeup.
"Why?" I sobbed. "Why won't you bring me with you on the path of revenge? Why? They're my parents too, you know? You shouldn't burden yourself with this on your own!"
"Izzy, are you ok?" Sophie called from outside the toilet. "You're taking incredibly long," She groaned.
I wiped my tears and said cheerfully, "I'll be out in a minute!" Using the methods Big Sis taught me, I put back on my makeup, which covered most of my tear-stained face.
"What took you so long——?" Sophie's jaw dropped.
"Sorry! I had to touch up my makeup. Is there something on my face?" My heart thumped against my ribcage. Did she notice my tears?
"N–no! It's just that..." Sophie's voice trailed off.
"It's just that what?" I asked curiously.
"Your makeup looks really good! Who did you learn it from?" Sophie complimented.
"My Big Sis! She's really good at this kind of thing!! The best part is that she has the same interests as I! How great is that?"
"Wow! I wish I had a sister like that."
~~~~~~~~~~
ALISTAIR NIGHTFALL'S POV:
"Ace, are you seriously just going to wear that?" Art didn't sneer, but it felt like she was giving my outfit judgmental side-eyes.
"Do you have any problems with it?" I asked.
"No..." She sighed. "But, you shouldn't be more aware of the strangers in your office? At least treat your customers like they exist and try to look less relaxed. Put back on your suit while with them at least."
"Is there anyone here right now?" I asked.
"No, just me." Art replied.
"If it's you, then it's fine."
"Ace! You should be more aware! I'm not your servant but your personal assistant."
"But you're also my friend,"
"Really? Then what else am I to you?" Art asked, winking at me.
"My personal slave?" I said.
"Seriously," She smacked her forehead. "I was hoping lover or something,"
"I don't want to think about love right now. I'm too young,"
"But old enough to get physical?" She questioned.
"..."
She climbed onto my table and leaned in closer to me.
"..."
"Answer me," She smiled as she lifted my chin to face her.
"We're not doing it in the office," I said firmly.
"I wasn't looking for that," She said slowly. "Though it'd be nice. Just give me a little bit of your time, Boss," Her lips pressed against mine.
"Quit it. That night, I was taken advantage of by you. You knew that my body was weak after that injury."
"Tee hee!" She giggled.
"Don't 'Tee hee' me. I was a victim of you."
"Oops, I guess you realised sooner than I expected,"
"..." I sighed.
"Leave me alone and fill out these documents. They already have my signature," I handed her a deck of papers.
"Hmph! How mean!" She puffed out her cheeks and snatched the papers.
Pfft Hahahahahaha!
That side of her is quite cute, too.
"Wait, Ace, you signed this document wrong," She showed me a document.
"Oh, sorry," I mumbled.
But before I could take back the document to correct my mistake, Art snatched away the paper and teased, "Missing someone?"
I ignored her and tried to take back the document. But she held it high in the air, refusing to give it back to me.
"Your sister has your eyes when she's hurt," She says.
I go quiet.
"What?"
How would she know?
She didn't even see her this morning.
"I saw her this morning on the way here. She was heading for school. Then, I saw her eyes. Her violet eyes had completely lost their usual glow. Did something happen?" She asked.
"No...not that I know of," I said slowly.
I stood up abruptly and put on my gloves.
"You're going tonight, aren't you?" Art asked.
I didn't answer.
"For the interview, I mean. You need to interview John Smith with his request, right?"
"Yes,"
"Then why're you going so early?"
I glanced at my watch.
"It's 05.00 p.m. I need about an hour to reach his place. The interview starts at six and ends at 08.30 p.m. I need to ask him seriously why he needs to assassinate this noble. The risk is very high, considering the nobles' high social class."
"Is that so?"
"The gloves are for protection," I stated clearly.
"Then," She paused before saying, "Don't die before watching your sister perform."
I pause.
Just for half a second.
Then I leave.
~~~~~~~~~~
I'm near Glimmer-Glass Plaza.
It's near John Smith's place.
Coincidence.
Nothing more.
The evening air is cool. The plaza lights flicker on one by one as staff adjust sound systems and stage panels.
Then—
I hear it.
Her voice.
Clear.
Controlled.
Trained.
I stop walking.
"...even if we fall, we'll stand together as family—"
It cracks.
Subtle.
Most wouldn't notice.
I do.
My gaze lifts toward the stage.
Three figures stand beneath the rehearsal lights.
Sophie moves too much. Claire compensates.
And in the centre—
Ella.
Smiling.
She sings again from the second chorus.
This time it's cleaner.
But she's overprojecting slightly.
Trying too hard.
There.
2 minutes, 34 seconds into the run.
She enters half a beat early.
Corrects it quickly.
Amateur mistake.
I lean against a pillar in the shadows, unnoticed.
She thinks I don't understand music.
Ridiculous.
I was the one who taught her breath control when she was eleven.
She forgot to ground her diaphragm during the emotional transition.
That's why her voice cracked.
Not because she lacks skill.
Because she lacks control.
Control over herself.
The song ends.
They bow to empty seats.
Her eyes flick to the front row.
Searching.
I look away before she can accidentally find me.
Pathetic.
I step closer once the staff disperses.
The stage is temporarily unattended.
A clipboard lies near the sound console.
I take a pen.
Tear a small sheet from the corner of a blank program.
I write:
You sang off-key at 2:34.
Control your breathing before emotional transitions.
You can do better.
I pause.
Then add one more line.
—Someone who listens carefully
No signature.
She'll know.
I place the note in the centre of the stage floor, weighted beneath her water bottle, where she'll definitely see it.
Footsteps echo behind me.
I leave before anyone rounds the corner.
She thinks I don't know what she wants, but I know.
She wants to walk the same path as me.
She doesn't understand.
The path I'm on isn't a stage.
It's a battlefield.
And battlefields don't care if you sing off-key.
They just bury you.
I don't look back.
But I slow my steps—
Just slightly—
Until her voice starts again for another rehearsal run.
~~~~~~~~~~
ISABELLA NIGHTFALL'S POV:
"Okay! Let's take five!" Sophie stretched her arms above her head dramatically, nearly knocking over one of the mic stands in the process. "If I sing that bridge one more time without water, I might actually faint."
Claire sighed softly, already reaching for her bottle with composed elegance. "You say that every rehearsal."
I bent down to grab mine as well—
Then froze.
There was something tucked neatly beneath it.
A small strip of paper.
My heartbeat stuttered.
"...Hm?" Claire tilted her head. "Is that yours?"
Before I could react, Sophie darted forward like a predator spotting prey.
"A note?!" she gasped, snatching it out of my reach. "WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. Don't tell me— IS THIS A CONFESSION?!"
"Sophie! Give it back!" I lunged for it, but she pivoted away, clutching it to her chest with exaggerated drama.
She cleared her throat loudly and began reading.
"'You sang off-key at 2:34. Control your breathing before emotional transitions. You can do better.'"
Silence.
A very long silence.
Claire blinked once.
Sophie blinked twice.
"...That," Sophie finally declared, "is the most aggressive love letter I have ever witnessed."
"It's not a love letter," Claire said calmly, though I could see amusement flicker faintly in her eyes. "It's a technical critique."
Sophie flipped the paper over.
There was one more line.
Her voice rose in pitch as she read it aloud.
"'—Someone who listens carefully.'"
She gasped.
Her hands flew to her cheeks.
"IT IS AN ADMIRER."
"It is not," I said immediately.
Too quickly.
Too defensively.
But my fingers had already tightened around the edge of my skirt.
2:34.
That was the exact second my voice had cracked.
Not noticeably. Not to most people. It was the smallest fracture in an otherwise clean performance.
No one in the empty seats had reacted.
The staff hadn't even flinched.
Even Sophie only squeezed my hand without comment.
But this person—
They noticed.
They counted.
They listened closely enough to pinpoint the second.
Claire's expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful. "This isn't random. Whoever wrote this understands stage timing. Emotional transitions. Breath control. They were paying attention."
Sophie wiggled her eyebrows at me. "So basically, you have a secret genius admirer lurking in the shadows watching you rehearse."
Heat crept up my neck.
"Stop it," I muttered, trying to sound annoyed. "It's probably just some over-serious music student passing by."
But even as I said it, I knew.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't casual.
The phrasing was concise. Direct. Efficient. No unnecessary emotion.
Critical.
Cold.
And yet—
"You can do better."
Not you were bad.
Not that was embarrassing.
You can do better.
My chest tightened.
Claire gently took the note from Sophie's hands and folded it neatly before offering it back to me. "Well, admirer or not... they're right. Your breathing shifted during the emotional lyric."
"I know," I said softly.
I had felt it the moment it happened.
The crack wasn't from lack of skill.
It was from thinking.
From searching the front row.
From hoping.
Sophie leaned closer to me with a mischievous grin. "Next run, don't go off-key at 2:34, Ella. Your mysterious critic boyfriend might deduct points."
"He's not my—!"
But my voice faltered.
Because deep down...
There was only one person I knew who would phrase it exactly like this.
Only one person who would criticise me this precisely.
Only one person refused to sign his name.
My eyes drifted slowly toward the front row again.
The reserved seat.
Still empty.
But suddenly, it didn't feel empty anymore.
Was he standing somewhere in the shadows?
Behind a pillar?
Across the street?
Listening?
My fingers brushed over the last line again.
Someone who listens carefully.
I pressed the paper lightly against my chest for just a second before folding it carefully and slipping it into my bag.
Not crumpled.
Not discarded.
Kept.
"Again from the second chorus," I said, lifting my chin.
Sophie grinned. "That's the spirit!"
Claire gave me a subtle nod, understanding more than she said aloud.
The music began once more.
This time, I didn't search the front row.
I focused on my breath.
Inhale.
Ground.
Project.
And when the clock in my head reached that moment—
2:34—
I didn't miss.
My voice flowed smoothly through the lyric about standing together as a family.
Strong.
Steady.
Unbreakable.
And though I couldn't see him—
I sang as if he was still listening.