[The Night Before the Reveal – Levi's Apartment, Studio Room]
[Levi POV]
The studio was dimly lit, the warm glow of the pendant lamp casting soft shadows across the scattered sketches, fabric samples, and open portfolios.
My coat for the reveal was displayed on the mannequin corner, the one my mother had designed. The one that carried my mother's brushstrokes and my own signature stitched silently beneath the collar.
Tomorrow, the world will know.
The man behind the name L. Schatz had been hiding in plain sight all along.
I stood there staring at it, arms crossed, barely aware of how long I'd been still. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It's just heavy with thoughts.
Behind me, I heard a faint creak of the door opening.
Haruka.
I didn't need to turn. Of course it was him. The warmth, the familiarity, the calm.
"You've been in here for over an hour," he said quietly. "You didn't even touch your tea."
"Didn't feel like drinking anything."
He stepped closer, standing beside me as we both looked at the coat. It was more than fabrics, it was memory. Legacy. A goodbye. It also marked a new beginning.
"Nervous?" He asked.
I nodded slightly. "Not about the reveal. That part I can handle. The stage, the press, the questions…"
"Then what?"
I paused, then answered without looking at him.
"I guess… there's a part of me that still wonders if I deserve it. The praise. The legacy. Being seen."
"You've always deserved it," he said immediately, his voice soft but firm. "You just got used to hiding because it was safer that way."
"It was never about safety."
"No," he said. "It was about pain. About losing her. About losing yourself. You gave the world your work… but you kept yourself locked away."
I exhaled slowly.
"And now I'm about to open that door."
Haruka turned to face me. "And when you do, I'll be there. I'm always there."
I finally looked at him. "Even if the world doesn't like what they see?"
He smiled. That small warm smile that made everything feel quieter.
"Levi," he said gently, stepping closer, "you've already shown me who you are. The world's just catching up."
His hand reached up, fingers brushing along the collar of my shirt, then resting lightly against my jaw.
"Tomorrow, you don't just reveal your name," he said. "You reclaim it."
I caught his wrist, holding it against my skin. The steadiness in his touch grounded me more than any stage ever could.
"You know," I murmured, "my mother used to say that love was the only thing worth creating for."
Haruka tilted his head slightly. "Then you've already succeeded."
I leaned in, brushing my forehead against his.
His breath was warm. Steady.
No words were needed now.
He stayed with me in the studio, sitting on the floor with me as we reviewed the final notes, sipping lukewarm tea, hands occasionally brushing.
Not speaking of tomorrow anymore.
Just holding onto tonight.
The quiet before the world knows everything.
The quiet is where I finally knew that…
I wasn't alone in it.
//SKIP//
[Day of the Reveal – 6:45PM, Saint-Germain Flagship Gallery – Backstage]
[Levi POV]
The hum of the crowd beyond the curtain was low and reverent, the kind of silence that only came from anticipation.
Glass clinked. Spotlights rotated in slow arcs. The air buzzed, not with chaos, but with curated control.
Haruka stood next to me, earpiece in, eyes moving calmly over the final rundown. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine. Sleek, composed, and tailored in L.H Schatz black.
He caught me watching and raised a brow.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Liar."
I shrugged. "Maybe a little."
He stepped closer and adjusted my collar with the same calm care he always used. Not because it needed fixing, but because it was him. It was us.
"You've got this," he said. "You've already lived through worse."
"I was stabbed in the chest," I murmured.
"Exactly. This is just lights and cameras."
A voice crackled through the comms. "Ten minutes until opening. Press is ready. Viewers just passed four million on the livestream. ETOILE says it's the most anticipated creative reveal in the last decade."
Haruka's lips twitched. "No pressure."
I exhaled through my nose, adjusting my cuffs. The suit I wore wasn't from the collection. It was older, one of the first designs I ever finished under my mother's old label, before everything got taken. Before everything became his.
Now, it was ours again.
My mother's dream.
My vision.
Haruka's hand folded gently around mine. I looked down. Surprised.
His expression was soft. Quiet.
"Breathe," he whispered.
I did.
And the weight in my chest lightened.
[7:00PM – On Stage, Under the Lights]
"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the unveiling of the mind behind L.H. Schatz."
The lights dimmed.
The backdrop lit up. A stunning blend of motion and memory.
My earliest artworks flickered across the towering screen. Faceless portrait, abstract pain, chaos controlled by colour.
Then, seamlessly, those images faded into the evolution of the brand. Sketches, fabrics, runway clips, installations. The journey of two identities merging into one.
Then… silence.
Spotlight.
And I walked out.
No mask. No glasses. No aliases.
Just me.
Levi Ackerman
The air shifted the moment I stepped forward.
Then, flashes. Applause. Murmurs swelling into thunder.
I raised the mic. My voice, when it came, was steady.
"Good evening. As you already know, my name is Levi Ackerman. I believe many of you knew me as the next heir of the Ackerman Group before, and now, some of you know me as the CEO of L.H. Schatz. But what you didn't know…until tonight…is that I'm also the artist the world has called L. Schatz for more than ten years."
A hush fell over the crowd again. Breath held, jaws slack, eyes wide.
I looked around.
I didn't feel fear. Or shame. Or doubt.
Only peace.
"I created it in secret for a long time. Not because I was afraid, but because I wasn't ready to share what those pieces meant to me. They were born from loss, from grief, and from memories that never quite left. But now, I have something better than silence. I have a legacy to build. Not one passed down to me, but one I chose for myself."
I glanced briefly offstage.
Haruka stood just beyond the curtain, watching.
I continued.
"L.H. Schatz is more than a label. It's more than fashion. It's a story… of arts, of defiance, and of love. And now that you know who I really am… I invite you to walk with me into what's next."
The applause rose again. Not polite. Not shocked.
Genuine.
And as the lights lifted and the exhibit opened behind me, I stood there, not as a man trying to prove something.
But as a man finally… free…
//SKIP//
[Later That Evening – Press Lounge, ETOILE Studio – Post-Event Interview Special]
[Levi POV]
The set was clean. Minimal. All white and gold, like the inside of a jewellery box.
Soft cameras hovered at discreet angles, and microphones clipped silently to my lapel, while a crew of stylists and lighting techs buzzed around in coordinated silence. Across from me sat Margaux Lenoir, one of the most respected cultural interviewers in France.
Smart. Elegant. Dangerous with a mic.
"Three, two, one… live."
The red light blinked on.
"Bonsoir, mesdames et messieurs (Good evening, ladies and gentlemen). Tonight, we have the honour of speaking to the man whose reveal has shaken the art and fashion world alike," Margaux said, smiling at the camera before turning towards me. "Levi Ackerman, or shall I say… L. Schatz?"
I gave a faint nod. "Bonsoir."
"I have to say, the world is still in collective shock. You've managed to stay anonymous for over ten years, with critically acclaimed pieces in private collections, auction houses, and underground exhibits… and now here you are. Why now?"
I looked straight into the camera. Calm. Collected.
"I was never hiding. I was simply… waiting. For the right moment."
I didn't hesitate.
"A promise," I said. "To someone I lost. And someone I love."
She raised a brow, intrigued. "So, there is a love story behind the name?"
A small smirk tugged at my mouth. "There always was. Schatz was what my mother used to call me. It means 'treasure' in German. When I took it as my pen name, I wasn't trying to hide. I was honouring her."
"And the L.H. in your brand?"
I glanced off-camera for a moment, where I knew Haruka stood just beyond the lights, reviewing the next day's itinerary but still listening.
"L.H. stands for two things. Levi and Haruka. My name… and the name of someone who reminded me who I really am."
There was a pause. Even the cameras seemed to hold their breath.
Margaux didn't press further. Smart woman.
"You've left the Ackerman Group entirely," she said. "Yet you chose to keep your birth name for this reveal. Why?"
"Because that name is mine." I said. "Not a boardroom title. Not a legacy to be inherited. I've bled under that name. I've survived under it. I intend to redefine it, not run from it. And… leaving the Ackerman Group doesn't mean I cut ties with my family."
The room felt still again.
She looked genuinely impressed now.
"Your art and fashion have both been described as emotionally restrained but quietly devastating. Now that the world knows who you are… do you plan to continue?"
I gave a faint shrug. "I plan to do more. Bigger. Louder. Without the mask, there's no reason to hold back."
Margaux leaned forward, just slightly.
"One last question," she said. "Now that you've revealed yourself… who is Levi Ackerman today?"
I let a moment pass.
And then I said it clearly.
"I'm the son of a dreamer."
I'm the man who walked away from power to create something real.
I'm an artist.
A builder.
A lover.
And I'm just getting started."
The red light blinked off.
[Backstage – Moments Later]
I pulled the mic from my collar and stepped away from the lights.
Haruka was already there, tablet tucked under his arm, water bottle in hand like always.
"You looked like you were born for that chair." He said.
"Did I sound dramatic?"
"You sounded like yourself. Finally."
I took the water, brushing my fingers against his slightly.
"We should get ready for tomorrow," he said, quieter now. "The press coverage is going to be insane."
"Let it be."
I looked at him.
"We have a legacy to build."
Haruka smiled, one of those rare ones that touched his eyes.
"And you've already carved your name into history."
[Outside ETOILE Studio]
[Levi POV]
The moment the glass door slid open, I heard it.
A wall of noise.
Cameras. Flashbulbs. Dozens of reporters pressing past barriers. Security was already in place, holding the crowd back, but the energy was wild. Not chaotic, not hostile. Just… electric.
"Mr. Ackerman!"
"Mr. Levi Ackerman, over here!"
"Is it true that you alone designed the Midnight Halo Collection?"
"What does Mr. Auclair mean to you? You mentioned 'H' in L.H. Schatz is Haruka."
I didn't flinch.
Haruka stepped out beside me, clipboard tucked under one arm, perfectly unbothered despite the swarm of questions being screamed around us.
He didn't hold my hand.
He didn't walk behind me.
He walked beside me. Like always.
Flashes went off like lightning.
"Levi Ackerman, were you always planning this reveal?"
"Will L.H. Schatz host a gallery crossover with your art?"
"We heard you plan to collaborate with Miss Fontaine, is it true?"
"What's your relationship to the Ackerman Group now?"
I stopped walking.
Turned slightly.
Let them get their shot.
I didn't smile. Just looked them straight in the eyes.
"My name is Levi Ackerman. I am the CEO of L.H. Schatz. I am the artist known as L. Schatz. And just like I mentioned during the live broadcast, I didn't cut ties with my family. And everything else…" I glanced briefly at Haruka, who tilted his head like he knew what I was thinking. "…you'll learn in time."
The shouting rose again, but I was already moving.
Haruka handed me a sleek black umbrella just as a light drizzle began. Classic Paris.
He opened it above us as we descended the stairs toward the waiting car.
"Smooth," he muttered.
"You're surprised?"
"Not even a little."
The car door opened—courtesy of Ray, who somehow materialised just in time like always, already wearing a subtle earpiece and scanning the perimeter.
Haruka slid in first, I followed, ignoring the last screams. "Mr. Ackerman, just one more question!"
The door shut.
Silence.
I leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly.
"Was it too much?" I asked.
Haruka turned toward me, brushing a single raindrop off my shoulder.
"It was perfect," he said. "You weren't just seen, Levi. You were unforgettable."
[Later That Night – Haruka's Apartment]
[Levi POV]
The silence felt louder than the press room.
I sat on Haruka's couch, my unbuttoned shirt hanging loose, my tie draped somewhere across the floor. Probably tossed there when we walked in an hour ago, too drained to care.
The glow from the living room lamp cast soft shadows across the floor. One of the kittens stretched out lazily on the rug, tail flicking.
Haruka came back from the kitchen with two mugs in hand. Black tea. He didn't have to ask. He just knew.
He set one in front of me, then sat beside me with another.
Neither of us said anything for a while.
I watched the steam curl from the rim of the mug.
"Fourteen million," I murmured. "That's how many watched the live."
"I know."
"They know everything now."
Haruka took a slow sip, eyes on me over the rim. "Not everything."
I glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"They don't know what your face looks like when you're painting at 3 AM, completely unaware that your sleeves are dipped in ink. Or how you talk to your mother's old sketchbooks under your breath."
I raised an eyebrow. "I talked to them?"
"Sometimes you apologise to them. Sometimes you argue with them."
I blinked. "That's… weird."
"It's you."
A silence again. This time, it's softer.
He placed his mug down and leaned back, arm stretched along the top of the couch.
"I was proud of you tonight," he said after a while. "You walked out there without flinching. You didn't try to justify who you are. You just were."
I nodded slowly.
"I wasn't afraid of them," I said. "I was only afraid of… not being enough. Not living up to what she wanted. Not being the man you saw in me."
Haruka turned his head toward me, brows slightly raised.
"I never wanted you to live up to anything," he said gently. "I just wanted you to live the way you want."
That stopped me for a second.
Then I leaned back beside him, letting the weight finally leave my shoulders.
The sound of the rain had softened. The city had gone quiet.
It felt like we were the only two people left in the world.
I let my hand find his between us on the couch, and his fingers curled around mine without hesitation.
We stayed like that.
Still.
Breathing in sync.
And then… just when I thought the night had finally settled, Haruka spoke.
Softly.
"Levi," he said, squeezing my hand.
I hummed a response, not moving.
"We're going somewhere soon."
I turned my head slightly toward him. "Where?"
He smiled faintly.
"You'll see."
TO BE CONTINUED!!!