Backstage, the air thrummed with a mix of adrenaline and apprehension. Renn paced like a caged animal, his phone pressed tightly to his ear as if its vibrations could summon Kira from wherever she was hiding. Each unanswered ring reverberated in his mind.

"Kira… pick up already", he muttered, glancing at his watch. Her performance was already running late, and the restless murmur of the waiting audience seeped through the thick curtains. He’d called five times already—each call swallowed by silence. Just as he reached for another dial, the sound of a door swinging open cut through the tension.

Kira stepped in, her expression unreadable, her eyes cold and distant.

Renn let out an exaggerated sigh. "Kira! Do you have any idea how..."

Without a trace of hesitation, she interjected, "I’ll sing That song today."

Renn’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"

Without waiting for a response, she swept past him, striding toward her dressing room with the silent determination of a woman with secrets too heavy to share. Renn hurried after her, his brow creasing with concern.

"Wait—hold on. You said you never wanted to perform that song. Why the sudden change?" he demanded.

Kira offered no words. Instead, she pushed open the dressing room door, stepped inside, and shut it firmly behind her.

Renn ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "She’s impossible…"

---

Inside the dim sanctuary of her dressing room, Kira locked the door and moved to the vanity mirror. With deliberate calm, she traced her fingertips along the edge of a glossy, white wig—a symbol of the persona she had long concealed. Slowly, she placed the wig over her strawberry blonde, unruly hair. Next came the makeup: soft, pale foundation that blurred her features into an ethereal mask, subtle yet striking eye makeup that hinted at hidden depths, and a pair of violet contact lenses that burned with intensity. Finally, she secured a sleek black mask over the lower half of her face.

In that moment, the mirror revealed not Kira Yukimura—the girl burdened by secrets and fear—but Luna, the masked idol, the enigmatic star adored by the masses yet known to none.

---

Elsewhere, discord brewed in the Yukimura mansion. Hanae’s fists clenched as her mother’s voice sliced through the stale air of the drawing room.

"How many times do I have to tell you? That girl is NOT your sister!" Her Mother Yelled. (Lilia Yukimura—Hanae’s mother and Kira’s stepmother—a bold woman, also the chief executive of Yukimura Corporation)

Hanae’s eyes flashed with defiance. "I don’t care what you say. Kira is my sister, and I’ll always see her that way!"

A resounding slap echoed through the room, a bitter punctuation to their argument. Though Hanae’s cheek burned with the sting of the blow, she refused to let tears betray her. Her mother’s gaze darkened, venomous.

Hanae’s retort was swift and cutting. "No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand!" With that, she spun on her heel and stormed up the stairs, leaving her mother seething in silence.

After a moment, her mother picked up the phone, her voice low and dangerous as she dialed a number.

"Why isn’t my work done yet?" she hissed into the receiver. "I want her dead. No more time-wasting."

---

In a cramped room filled with the cold glow of multiple monitors, Kairos’ fingers danced furiously across the keyboard. He had spent hours tracking Kira’s digital footprints, only to find himself thwarted by layers of firewalls and sophisticated security protocols—someone was protecting her.

His jaw set tight. Who the hell was covering for her? he wondered, the question burning in his mind. He leaned back, exhaling sharply, a fleeting thought of defeat crossing his features. Maybe this was it. Maybe I had lost her.

Then, amid the hum of his machines, a sound cut through the tension—a voice so soothing, hauntingly beautiful... it forced him to pause.

He turned toward the small speaker on his desk. A live performance filled the room—Luna was on stage, her voice imbued with the pain and hope of a thousand hidden truths as she sang That song The melody wrapped around him like a bittersweet embrace, stirring long-buried emotions.

It was painful. Hopeful. And in its delicate notes, Kairos sensed a familiar echo from his past—a memory he couldn’t quite place.

Before he could lose himself further in the music, a sharp, jarring ring shattered the moment. Kairos growled as he snatched up his phone. The number was unfamiliar, yet he answered.

A deep, commanding voice emerged from the other end.

Kairos grip on the phone tightened, his voice turning cold, edged with hatred. "You don’t have much time left. Get me Kira’s full information, or our deal is over."

Silence followed—a pregnant pause heavy with threat. Kairos closed his eyes for a heartbeat before answering in a tone that brooked no argument.

The call ended, leaving him staring at the screen as if it held the answers to all his questions. Slowly, he shifted his gaze to the photo pinned to the wall—a snapshot of Kira Yukimura in simpler times, a face now transformed by secrets and sorrow.

A cruel smile tugged at his lips as he murmured, "Kira Yukimura… now you won’t be able to escape from me."

---

[To be continued...]