The crimson curtain slowly descended from the ceiling, while the eerie yet elegant melody of a puppet play echoed through the hall. On that familiar, towering stage sat several "puppets," and at this moment the one representing Lucis(Haru), the Light, was delivering his chant.
His tall figure paced across the stage. This boy, who should have been clutching a clipboard and running around backstage, now moved with the rhythm of eighth notes, his performance astonishing the audience.
This was only his second time stepping onto the stage.
And yet, he was already displaying an exceptional "gift."
"…"
A beige round hat concealed the girl's elegant lavender hair. Her unique pink diamond eyes flickered faintly, though they were hidden behind oversized sunglasses that covered half her face, leaving her expression shadowed beneath lowered lids.
She should have been wearing the Amoris mask and standing on stage. Instead, she was curled in the shadows of the back row, watching from a corner like any ordinary spectator.
The sunglasses pressed painfully against her nose, yet could not shield her from the flood of stage lights. The leaping particles of light seemed to pierce through the lenses, searing bright marks into her vision.
"…"
Her gaze clung to every move of the "actors" on stage. The black-haired boy, masked in black patterns, raised his palm with aristocratic grace, his lines spoken in a refined tone. Her pale fingers dug into her arm, leaving crescent-shaped red marks that betrayed her turmoil.
"Why..."
Lucis was supposed to be untrained, a mere stand-in, yet his acting rivaled hers and perhaps even surpassed it.
She had worked so hard.
Yuutenji Nyamu had poured countless hours into practice, refining her skills and technique, yet she could not replicate his effortless ease, as if every step he took on stage carried the weight of her weeks of struggle.
[Your band activities are suspended, for now.]
The indifferent words he had once spoken resurfaced in her mind, still filling her with disbelief.
He really meant to stop her activities?
During Ave Mujica's tour, it would be nearly impossible to replace a professional drummer like her.
What's more, Ave Mujica's concept was "fixed." Each member had her own mask, codename, costume. There was no way to swap someone out at the last minute, let alone with another skilled female drummer.
"…"
Nyamu could hear her heartbeat racing. She knew Ave Mujica's set order well. The band performance was next, yet Lucis, the supposed keyboardist, stood holding a guitar.
The show was about to begin.
What about the drums?
Were they planning to use a pre-recorded track?
Anxiously, she bit down hard. Her eyes widened, watching every detail on stage. As the scarlet curtain rose again, music swelled with the puppets standing beneath the lights.
"…Drums? Why are there drums?"
Nyamu froze.
Ave Mujica's lineup appeared as usual, keyboard, guitar, vocals, bass, and drums. Yet she herself, the drummer, sat among the audience.
A foreboding chill spread from her chest.
On stage, the black-haired boy drew a deep breath. His black-and-red costume emphasized his tall frame, the tailcoat swaying as he bent gracefully. He looked like the embodiment of the night.
"Welcome, to the world of Ave Mujica."
His cool, detached voice drifted across the hall, and Nyamu's eyes widened further.
The boy she had been watching all along calmly seated himself at the drum kit. The sight was so unbelievable that she sat frozen, her manicured nails digging into her skin without her noticing.
It can't be real.
The thought barely surfaced before he struck the drums with a storm of rhythm. The violent yet steady prelude exploded with metallic sound, shattering not only the silence but also her fragile pride.
Endless beats roared in her ears...
High-frequency patterns she could only master through endless focused training spilled effortlessly from his left hand. Each stroke carried a trembling resonance like butterfly wings, yet with his relaxed control.
The powerful drums locked perfectly with the bassline, creating a foundation for the metal melody, its force and precision displaying a gulf she could never cross.
This was a power she could never reach.
"No… it's impossible…"
Nyamu's eyes shook. She unconsciously rubbed the calluses on her wrists and palms, the marks carved by years of drumsticks. Now, under the rising heat of his rhythm, they burned.
"…"
The hall echoed with arpeggios on the keyboard and the screaming roar of guitar. Yet to her, in the back row, there was only silence.
The boy's double bass tore through space and time, every stroke striking the sorest points of her memory.
Only another drummer could fully understand how extraordinary it was. Only she knew the relentless training required to master this.
Most professional drummers used mesh drumheads. But her family couldn't afford them, so she practiced endlessly on rubber pads.
She had never even owned a hi-hat stand, unable to simulate the true feedback of the kit. With only headphones and memory, she forced herself to repeat the motions until they were etched into her muscles.
Even after all that effort, she could not touch the weight of his rhythm.
At some point, her teeth had broken her lip, the taste of iron filling her mouth. Bitter humiliation engulfed her. His sticks shattered her world.
After that, nothing registered.
Even when Togawa Sakiko, representing Oblivionis, smiled and lifted her mask, Nyamu felt nothing. Her pale-pink eyes dulled completely.
"So, the noble Oblivionis… this is your true face?"
On stage, Kazami Haru knew nothing of the turmoil in the audience. Once the performance ended, he slipped smoothly back into his role.
At a rest in the background music, Haru spun sharply, the tail of his rose-embroidered coat sweeping an arc through the air. His gaze burned into the distance where a blue-haired girl sat.
"That's right. Please, watch me closely!"
Sakiko's lips curved faintly. She lifted the mask of Oblivionis, revealing her face. A storm of gasps erupted through the hall, one wave of shocked voices rising after another.
This was the spectacle they had planned.
In their first live tour, three faces had been revealed at once, disrupting Haru's strategy. But as manager, he had smoothed things over quickly.
If that was the case, they would maximize the impact of each unmasking.
This time, Sakiko's true face would be revealed. The real "explosive" reveal, Misumi Uika, would be saved for last. With media coverage and careful timing, Ave Mujica's popularity would soar even higher.
"You don't have to tell me. I'll etch your face into my memory myself."
Haru exhaled in relief as the audience roared. The performance had gone flawlessly, even his sudden role as drummer.
To others, his substitution might seem reckless.
But none of the Ave Mujica girls objected. Even when he announced he would take the drummer's seat, not one of them doubted him. Their trust was absolute.
And Haru did not let them down.
"…"
Breathing out slowly, he glanced toward Sakiko.
He owed it to the countless "failed simulations" before. Originally, he only had [Popular Drummer Nijika Ijichi] Drumming LV3 from Nijika's simulation. Without formal percussion training, he couldn't be sure he could pull it off.
But...
From Sakiko's simulation, he had gained more rewards. Many were random and useless, but fortune had given him some excellent ones.
[Renowned Drummer: Shiina Taki] Drums Lv4]
By fusing multiple skills of the same type, and with his innate [Musical Prodigy], the level merged to Lv5, surpassing both girlfriends' abilities.
His physical execution might lag slightly, but his mastery was already fit for the stage.
Still, he couldn't keep standing in as drummer forever.
Reciting dramatic lines from the script, Haru was already considering Nyamu's case. She was the true drummer of Ave Mujica. He had no intention of making her stop permanently.
But he had to talk with her.
Bands grew through mistakes and hardship, by learning to understand one another. At heart, Haru was too soft to be harsh with a sixteen-year-old.
"…Once this busy stretch is over, I'll find the time to talk with her properly."
He murmured softly, then returned to the rhythm of the play.