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*IMPERIAL GROUNDS*
*Class 3 Residence – 4th Dorm*
The soft hum of the hallway lights echoed as Mira gently pushed the door closed behind her, sealing in the quiet air of the dorm room. The place hadn't changed much, still carrying the faint scent of old sheet music and fabric softener, but tonight, there was something heavier lingering — unspoken history.
"I'm glad y'all could make it," Mira said with a hopeful smile, her voice a little too bright.
"Yeah, sure…" Sato replied, adjusting his glasses as he took a seat, his tone polite but distant.
"I missed when we all sat like this," Mira added, trying to spark warmth. "Back then, we'd be arguing over harmonies, fighting over snacks, laughing at nothing… and always, always dreaming up songs."
Her voice trailed off, but the silence that followed was too loud.
"So," Kaze asked, confused and slightly guarded, "what are we doing here?"
Mira clasped her hands together nervously. "Umm… this year's Imperial Competition is coming up and—"
"We're done with that stuff, Mira," Ryan cut in, his voice sharp.
She flinched, swallowing down her reaction. "I-I know… but I mean, maybe we could try again. Just one more time. We were good. We *are* good."
"This isn't as easy as you think," Ria said flatly, arms crossed.
Kaze stood slowly, the legs of the chair scraping quietly against the floor. He walked over to the dorm window, the dim lights of the courtyard casting shadows on his face. The air thickened as his gaze dropped toward the distant competition halls, then turned back to Mira.
"Mira," he said, his tone calm, but cold. "You trying to make up for your mistake?"
Mira froze, her smile cracking as confusion spread across her face. "M-Mistake?"
Her eyes searched the others, but they looked away. Even Sato didn't meet her gaze.
"You're the reason we failed," Kaze said quietly, not even turning back fully. "You know that."
The room seemed to shift. Mira took a shaky step back.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, voice trembling. "You said it was because… because we had no soloist."
Ryan stood abruptly. "We *didn't* have a soloist — but even without one, we should've at least made it to the top two. You tried to show off. That's what ruined everything."
"I was just trying to—"
"Impress them?" Ryan snapped. "We worked for months. Sacrificed sleep, grades, everything. And you took it upon yourself to add some 'special effect' mid-performance, without telling any of us."
Mira blinked, tears forming. "I just thought… I thought it would elevate our sound."
Sato opened his mouth, as if to defend her, but Ryan wasn't done.
"Not everything's about *you*, Mira. You cover your insecurities with confidence, like if you smile hard enough, we'll forget what you cost us. Five seconds of chaos. That's all it took."
"Ryan—" Sato tried again, but Ryan slammed his hand down on the table.
"No," he hissed. "She has to hear this. Maybe piano playing isn't for you. Maybe leadership *definitely* isn't. You never owned your mistake — you denied it, buried it, pretended like it never happened. And now you want us to pretend with you?"
Silence.
Mira's hands trembled at her sides. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words barely audible.
Kaze shook his head. "This is pointless. If we're re-entering that competition, Mira's off the team."
And without another word, he walked out.
Ria stood next. "Not worth the time," she muttered before leaving, her boots clicking down the hall.
Ryan paused beside Mira, now slumped in her seat, her shoulders shaking.
"Maybe piano's just a hobby for you after all," he said quietly, coldly, and then left too.
Only Sato remained. He hesitated for a long moment, watching her cry silently into her palms.
"Mira…"
He crossed the room, kneeling beside her.
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," he said softly. "But you do have to start being honest. With us. With yourself."
Mira didn't look up.
He gently reached for her hand.
"You're not alone. Not if you don't want to be"
"Please… I want to be alone," Mira whispered, her face buried in the space between her legs, her arms tightly wrapped around herself like a fragile shell trying to keep from breaking any further.
Sato stood there, motionless for a moment, his expression torn. His hand hovered mid-air, as if he wanted to reach out again, to comfort her. But he didn't.
"I hope… you'll be okay," he said quietly.
And then, with a sigh that carried both sadness and helplessness, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Mira was alone again — in a room once filled with dreams, now filled only with silence and the echo of disappointment.
---
*NAO'S HOUSE – LATE MORNING*
The soft hum of the ceiling fan spun above as Nao lay curled up on her thin mattress. Her brows were furrowed in her sleep, her breaths shallow and restless.
In her dream, she turned and saw him again — *the boy*, lying in a growing pool of blood, lifeless eyes staring into hers. His broken body was twisted unnaturally, like a doll tossed away.
"No… no…" Nao whispered in her sleep, moving backward slowly, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
She looked up. The towering building loomed over her like a cold giant. On one of the upper levels, she saw it—*a figure*, a shadow moving swiftly away from the ledge.
*A witness.*
Nao gasped, eyes flying open as she bolted upright.
Her skin was clammy with sweat. Her chest heaved as she tried to shake off the image. Her trembling hands went to her head, fingers clutching at her roots in quiet panic.
"Just a dream…" she whispered, but even her own voice felt unsure. "Was it… just a dream?"
DING-DONG.
The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.
Nao blinked, dragging herself up from the bed, her legs still unsteady. She shuffled to the door, her body moving on autopilot. She wasn't expecting anyone.
She opened it to find a postman, holding a sleek, black and gold-laced box.
"Huh?" Nao mumbled.
The man checked the address. "Delivery for Asano Nao?"
"Yes… that's me"
"From Imperial's institute "
Her breath hitched. That name. The sound of it hit her like a jolt — her entire body froze. Her heart raced.
"O-oh…" she muttered, dazed, and took the box in her hands. She scrawled her signature without thinking, her eyes fixed on the seal pressed into the box.
The postman nodded and walked away.
Nao slowly shut the door behind her, her hands trembling slightly. The box was light, but it felt impossibly heavy in her arms. She carried it to the table, sat down slowly, and lifted the lid.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Inside lay the crisp, navy-blue uniform of *Imperial's Musical*, detailed in golden embroidery. The fabric shimmered under the morning sun like starlight caught in velvet. It was unlike anything she had ever owned — or dreamed of owning.
Her fingers brushed over the chest tag, and there it was — embroidered with perfect precision:
*Asano Nao.*
Her name. Her place.
She blinked hard, unable to believe it.
"W-what…" she whispered. "How…?"
Her hands trembled as she clutched the uniform close to her chest. Her mind was still trying to understand — after being rejected, after all the hopelessness, after everything she saw…
Now this?
She didn't know if it was a mistake. A miracle. Or something much more complicated.