[Raiquèn's POV]
"Rai, you've received an invitation to study at Juilliard in New York."
The CEO in front of me said happily.
It had already been a week since the theater play, and a lot had happened since then.
A few days after the performance, our cast was invited to appear on a TV show. Surprisingly, Yeira didn't attend. According to her agency, she was busy with another project and sent her formal apologies.
Though, honestly, I was thankful she didn't come. I wouldn't have known how to face her.
After the play ended, I never got the chance to talk to Yeira. The director had called her right after curtain call, and ever since then, we hadn't crossed paths again.
I groaned quietly at the memory of the embarrassing words I said to her.
"Rai?"
Leora's voice pulled me back to the present.
"Ah? Yes?"
"Are you alright? You're not listening."
"Haha, sorry! I am listening—I was just thinking it through."
What a lame excuse.
I looked down again at the invitation letter in my hands. The Juilliard School in New York had sent me an offer. Apparently, someone in a high position there had come to watch our play and saw potential in me. They wanted me to study there for at least two years.
It truly was a great opportunity—one I couldn't just pass up. I knew I was still lacking in many ways, still inexperienced.
"I want to accept it," I said firmly, meeting Leora's gaze.
She smiled and leaned back in her swivel chair.
"I thought so. I'll make the arrangements for you. And once you arrive in New York, try meeting up with Luther, alright?"
"Alright."
Luther is Leora's younger brother—about my age. I met him when I first joined Roskow Agency, and funny enough, he turned out to be the same little boy I'd talked to back when I got my first job as an extra.
He's much brighter than he looks, and we've gotten along really well ever since. You could say we grew up together under Leora's agency, almost like childhood friends.
But Luther isn't part of the entertainment industry. He handles the international affairs and business side of their family's well-known brand. He's got a real talent for fashion—designing and creating clothing seems to come naturally to him.
When I arrived home, I immediately sank into the soft couch.
I still had to let my family know about the invitation…
Rolling to my side, I reached for my laptop on the table and opened it without bothering to move much. The screen lit up, and I lazily clicked on the browser to check the latest news.
"It would be nice if Yeira were also at Juilliard…" I murmured.
I'd heard that at least four of our cast members received invitations. I was pretty sure she was one of them.
But… would her agency even allow it? Knowing Mediaset, that arrogant and selfish company, they'd probably rather announce to the world that Yeira rejected Juilliard than actually let her go.
"Ah?"
My eyes caught one headline, and I clicked it right away.
It was news about Yeira heading to Canada for her upcoming film—blah blah, the usual media fluff.
"I guess she rejected it," I muttered under my breath, staring blankly at the article.
"Wahhh! But why am I so disappointed?"
I buried my face into the couch cushion, groaning in frustration while flailing my arm in the air like a child throwing a tantrum.
How annoying… but I really did want to know her more. Nothing else—just that.
I was merely curious why she said those words to me that day. And more importantly, why me?
She could've said it to Éryan. They were much closer, after all.
"How curious…" I whispered to myself, trying to think of anything else—to forget everything that had happened.
It's not like I'd see Yeira again for the next two years anyway.
…Or so I thought.
A few days later… my arrival in New York was kept discreet and unannounced to the media, along with the invitation I received. I didn't want to be bombarded at the airport—or have my soon-to-be peaceful days in New York ruined before they even began.
The only thing my agency made public was that I'd be on hiatus for at least two years. Apparently, they received countless calls asking why, but I didn't bother to find out more. It wasn't my concern; it was their job to handle that kind of noise, not mine.
Hachiro came with me as well. We were each given a separate condo, though his was one floor above mine.
I also learned that Himeko was among those invited too. She arrived with Hachiro and would be living with him in the same unit provided by our agency.
Anyway… today, Himeko and I were heading to Juilliard. It was our first day exploring the campus. We'd already dropped by the registrar earlier, and they told us we could take it easy for now—our classes wouldn't begin until next week.
The first thing that greeted me when we stepped inside the campus was the sound—music everywhere.
The faint echo of a violin from a nearby studio, the rhythmic pounding of piano keys somewhere above, and laughter spilling from the open courtyard. It wasn't noisy… it was alive.
Juilliard felt different from any place I had ever been in. The air here carried a strange mixture of tension and freedom. Everyone walked with purpose, yet with an aura of passion that seemed to cling to their every step. It was intimidating—and beautiful.
The glass walls reflected the soft morning light, giving the whole place a modern but almost ethereal glow. Students passed by holding instruments, sketchbooks, or stacks of scripts pressed against their chests. Some were rehearsing lines, others dancing, lost in their own world.
"This place feels unreal…"
Himeko whispered beside me, clutching her bag like it might fly away at any moment.
I nodded slowly, my gaze sweeping across the polished floors, the spiraling staircases, the walls covered in portraits of alumni whose names I've heard my mentors speak of in awe.
"It's like walking inside a dream that everyone here is trying to chase," I murmured.
Every corner hummed with creativity, every sound felt purposeful. For a brief moment, I forgot the nerves. Instead, I felt something stirring inside me—something I hadn't felt in a while.
Excitement.
Maybe this was what it meant to truly start again.
The cafeteria at Juilliard was just as lively as the rest of the campus—buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of trays and silverware.
The scent of roasted coffee and freshly baked bread lingered in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of fruits and pastries.
Large glass windows bathed the entire hall in warm light, giving everything a soft golden hue.
Students filled almost every corner—some buried in scripts, some sketching, others in quiet conversations about music and choreography. It wasn't just a cafeteria; it felt like a small ecosystem of passion and exhaustion coexisting in harmony.
Himeko and I managed to find an empty table near the window.
I set my tray down before realizing I'd forgotten to grab a drink.
"Stay here for a bit, Hime," I said, and she nodded, already busy taking pictures of her food.
I walked back to the drink section, scanning through the rows of neatly lined cans and bottles. Water, soda, coffee, juice… too many choices. After a while, I just picked up a can of orange juice, figuring it was safe enough.
But when I turned around—
Thud!
Something—or rather, someone—bumped right into me. The can slipped from my hand, landing with a dull clink on the floor.
"Ah—! I'm sorry! I didn't see you there!"
The voice was soft—familiar. I blinked and looked up.
The first thing I noticed was his hair—strikingly pale white, almost silver under the cafeteria light. Then his eyes—rose-quartz and delicate, filled with mild worry.
He picked the can of orange and handed it to me.
"Éryan?" I blurted out.
"Hm? Oh! You're Raiquèn!" he said, smiling, easy and carefree as ever.
"Wait—you accepted their invite?"
"Yeah, we did. It would've been a waste to pass up such an opportunity," he replied.
"We?" I repeated, tilting my head.
Don't tell me—
"Éry, what took you so long—?"
That voice. Calm, steady, unmistakably hers.
When I turned, there she was—Yeira.
She wore a maroon sweater dress that matched the accessories in her hair, her pastel blue hair cascading loosely around her shoulders. She looked effortlessly radiant, the kind of beauty that made even strangers pause mid-step.
"Oh, Yae. Look, it's Raiquèn!" Éryan grinned, gesturing toward me.
Yeira's eyes met mine. No surprise, no shock—just a calm, unreadable gaze and a small polite smile.
That was all.
I wasn't sure what expression I had on my face—probably something awkward—but I felt a strange wave of happiness that I quickly tried to hide.
"We'll get going first," Éryan said cheerfully. "Still need to finish the registration."
I nodded dumbly as the two of them turned to leave.
Yeira didn't look back. Not once.
And I stood there, still holding my orange juice, my heart pounding like I'd just seen a ghost.
Why the hell is she here!?
I thought she was supposed to be in Canada for a movie!