You stand behind Bianca, watching her in the mirror's soft focus.
On the dressing table, lilies bloom quietly in a vase, their elegant fragrance perfuming the air.
Tonight, the two of you will take the stage to perform your story for the world.
Though it will be your first time facing thousands as a performer, you feel no trace of nerves but only a profound, serene contentment.
A sudden wish blooms within you: that this single, perfect moment could stretch into forever, with you standing here, watching her.
Maestro... are you still with me?
The thought holds you, until her soft voice pulls you back to the present.
You blink back to the present, an apology softening your features as your focus settles on her—truly settles on her—for the first time.
And you see it. The Bianca before you is almost unrecognizable. Elegantly transformed, she is a butterfly freshly emerged from its chrysalis, radiating a brilliance that steals the very air from your lungs.
She meets your transfixed gaze, and a gentle smile graces her lips.
Do you find my appearance unsuitable?
I had asked for your counsel, but you seemed... elsewhere. As though you could not find the words.
Hearing your assured reply, the tension in her expression melts away, yielding to a genuine, relieved smile.
Indeed? I'm glad to hear it.
It means a great deal to stand beside you in a form that meets your approval.
She reaches out and gently takes your fingers in her hand.
Sometimes... I fear all of this is still but a dream.
It feels too perfect, too complete. And that very perfection makes me afraid I cannot hold this moment with you forever.
To finally share the stage with you, a dream I have cherished for so long that now it feels... surreal. I find myself questioning if any of it is real at all.
From the moment we entered the theater together, I have wondered if I have stepped into another dream, one destined to vanish with the dawn.
Maestro, forgive my boldness, but... do you ever fear the arrival of true happiness?
Do you not feel that the journey toward joy is often sweeter than the destination? When the heart is full of nothing but anticipation?
Yet, when that pinnacle is finally reached, the fear returns... the dread of losing what you have only just obtained.
It is like arriving at a beautiful destination with one you cherish. Even as you savor the perfection, you know the journey home awaits.
That is why, sometimes, I would rather remain on that path forever, our hearts united in hope.
I simply wish to stay by your side, just as we are now, always traveling toward our happiness together.
You take Bianca's palm, and her instant smile tells you she knows your intention. She watches with a smile, her gaze soft, as your finger traces that familiar symbol onto her skin.
When you finish, she doesn't simply close her hand; she enfolds your fingers within her own, a tender, unspoken vow held safely in her palms.
I see, Maestro.
Whatever the future may bring, my wish remains just as it is now... to walk on, with your hand firmly in mine.
With your hands intertwined with hers, you savor this shared moment of peace before taking the stage until a gentle knock at the door breaks the silence.
Pardon the interruption, but it's almost time. You should prepare to take the stage.
Ah... yes, we will be ready momentarily.
In the final moments before the stage, Bianca's gaze settles on you, meticulously tracing the lines of your costume. Her eyes are a gentle but exacting audit.
A pensive look soon clouds her features; something, it seems, still falls short of her impeccable standards.
A final detail is out of place. Please, allow me.
Her slender fingers brush against your collar, meticulously smoothing the fabric.
Then, selecting the most radiant lily from the vase, she pins it to your lapel.
The lily suits the character you are portraying tonight.
May it lend your presence the required elegance.
She bows her head before you, a portrait of earnest devotion, her features delicately shrouded by the shadows of her veil.
Compelled by an impulse you can no longer contain, you reach out. Your fingers gently find the delicate fringe of the veil, and you lift it.
Hmm? Maestro...?
My apologies. I should attend to it.
Her hand flies instinctively to her lips, but her fingers hesitate, suspended in the air without a mirror to guide them. As she starts to turn back toward the vanity, your hand reaches out to gently stop her.
No other words are needed. A meaningful glance conveys your intent as you reach for the product on the vanity.
A silent understanding passes between you. Bianca comprehends, closing her eyes and tilting her face upward.
The warmth of your fingertip meets the vibrant lipstick, melting it as you trace the delicate curve of her lips.
The slight contact reveals the soft warmth of her skin.
You've never been this intimate, close enough to feel her breath mingling with your own.
Logically, this is a mere pre-performance touch-up, a thing to be rushed. But in the hushed stillness of the moment, you wish it could be an eternity.
She remains perfectly still, but the gentle tremor of her eyelashes betrays her—a silent testament that she, too, is savoring this suspended breath in time.
At last, her makeup is flawless, a final work of your careful touch. The only remnant of the intimacy is a faint trace of color dusting your fingertip.
She opens her eyes. Her smiling gaze finds yours, and within it, you see your own silhouette reflected.
Well then, Maestro... shall we step into our dream together?
The curtain ascends, a slow tide of light spilling across the stage to unveil Bianca, banishing the shadows that had clung to her.
As it reaches its peak, thunderous applause erupts, a wave of sound that crashes over you both. In this perfect, suspended moment, the spotlight converges, bathing you in a shared radiance.
You take her hand, and together, you step forward into the gaze of a thousand eyes, crossing the threshold into a "dream" woven for you alone.
In the wake of catastrophe, a golden age crumbles to dust. A mysterious virus scours the world, unleashing an unprecedented crisis upon humanity.
The old order lies in ruins,
and from the ashes, only the valiant "Gray Raven" rises to become humanity's final hope.
Exchanging a hurried farewell, "Gray Raven" marches to battle without a backward glance. With dauntless courage, they lead the desperate, a final bulwark against annihilation.
After countless grueling battles and untold sacrifice, the calamity is finally ended.
Yet, when the world offers its accolades, "Gray Raven" refuses them all. "I want to return to my beloved's side," is their only reply.
But home is a wilderness, and the only news is of a loss all too great. The one who sang with a crystal-clear voice is gone, not even leaving behind a tombstone.
Drawn by grief, "Gray Raven" stumbles into the theater now lying in ruins—a place that once echoed with precious memories and the songs of a devoted heart.
Night falls, and despite warnings of a terrifying "Phantom" that haunts these halls, "Gray Raven" stays, choosing to drown in sorrowful memories.
In the profound silence, as "Gray Raven" finally succumbs to slumber, the "Phantom" materializes at their side.
The stage scenery transforms, bathed in an otherworldly moonlight. From the darkness, the elegantly dressed "Phantom" approaches your side.
Who dares to walk my domain in this eternal night? You are not the one I have waited for in the long dark.
Daylight is a forgotten dream, and love a faded echo. I, too, once held a love that promised eternity. Now, only the darkness remains to feast upon its memory.
The past has fallen into a slumber. Every trace of my beloved has fled my dreams, leaving me to wander alone through this eternal night.
Tell me... are you, too, drawn to this undying darkness?
After this night, I will vanish completely into the shadows... taking all my regrets with me.
There is a strange familiarity about you, a scent on the air I almost recognize. And yet, in my ever-frozen heart, I can find no memory of your face.
All I can feel... is the burning, undying love you carry.
The "Phantom" mask hides Bianca's face, rendering her expression unreadable, but the passionate resolve in her voice leaves no doubt—she has fully become the character.
Here, in the shadows, the Phantom faces imminent oblivion, her final wish a simple, desperate plea to reunite with her beloved before the end.
In a climactic confession, "Gray Raven" and the Phantom finally recognize each other. As the mask falls away, it reveals the face of "Gray Raven's" long-lost love.
But their hard-won reunion—forged through the trials of war and a desperate search—is now poisoned by a cruel fate, poised to devour the Phantom forever.
The surroundings gradually fade to black, as if sinking into a profound dream, leaving only a solitary spotlight illuminating your figures.
As time flows on, you are no longer an author writing a story, and Bianca is no longer an actress playing a part.
The stage is no longer a set; it has become the Phantom's very realm, real and breathing.
The boundary between reality and fantasy dissolves like mist.
In this liminal space, Bianca moves closer. Her gaze is intense, unwavering.
Her words are barely a whisper, but you know instantly they are not from the script; this is a confession, raw and meant only for you.
Your hands find hers, clasping them tight. You drown in her eyes, clinging to every syllable of this stolen, perfect moment that's only yours.
If only... this moment could last forever...
I no longer wish to speak my heart from behind a mask, or through the words of another.
I want to stand before you as I am... and speak only my own truth.
I love you.
Her words, a gentle whisper meant for your ears alone, hang in the air.
They are not a scripted line, nor the Phantom's confession.
They are her own truth, her heart laid bare.
In this moment—both fleeting and eternal—she waits. Her entire being is offered to you, a question of passionate love that demands no answer but one.
You surrender to the pull, and the world dissolves into shadow. The stage, the audience—all of it fades into nothing. There is only the space where she ends and you begin.
Your lips meet, a tender seal upon her devotion. It is an answer, a promise, a silent vow.
You pull her close until no space remains between your hearts, and the warmth of her breath becomes your own. The shadows themselves shrink back, scorched away by the heat you generate.
As the last of the world fades to black, this new love blazes brighter than any stage light, a brilliant dawn banishing every shadow in its path.
Slowly, you open your eyes. The world is perfectly still, the silence broken only by the rhythm of her breath.
All else has fallen away into shadow, leaving only a pool of brilliant light that holds you and Bianca.
In this suspended moment, there is no one else on this timeless stage.
Only the two of you remain, adrift in a dream of your own making.
Her hands rise, then, to gently frame your face, a soft anchor to reality.
You hold Bianca tightly, drawing her so close that the two heartbeats in your chests fall into a single, harmonious rhythm.
You feel you are embracing her very soul—pure yet fervent—and you answer her sincere devotion with your own. In this moment, you wish you could shelter her beneath your wings, preserving her just as she is, forever at your side.
The world dissolves, leaving only the warmth of her love radiating through you.
As the last of the world fades to black, this new love blazes brighter than any stage light, a brilliant dawn banishing every shadow in its path.
Slowly, you open your eyes. The world is perfectly still, the silence broken only by the rhythm of her breath.
All else has fallen away into shadow, leaving only a pool of brilliant light that holds you and Bianca.
In this suspended moment, there is no one else on this timeless stage.
Only the two of you remain, adrift in a dream of your own making.
Her hands rise, then, to gently frame your face, a soft anchor to reality.
Please tell me... will there be more stories between us after tonight?
A smile, as radiant as a blooming lily, dawns on her face as the answer settles in—the very one her heart had been pleading for.
Then... did you enjoy the story I wrote for us?
