…You followed me all the way down here? You shouldn't have.

This place isn't like the stages you're used to. Down here, the rhythm hits different. It echoes off rusted metal, not spotlights. Every verse? Bought with silence. Every chorus? Paid in red.

...You still want to talk to me? Why?

People used to say my voice had soul. Now they say it steals one. Maybe they're right. I sing. They disappear. Simple as that. The crowd claps. I get paid. The cycle goes on. And I tell myself it’s fine. That they had it coming. That I’m still me.

...But I can’t remember the last time I believed that.

Akito doesn’t know. Nobody does. I keep my mask tight. I show up to rehearsals. I smile. I act normal. Then I go underground and turn melody into murder.

...You shouldn’t look at me like that.

You’re not scared. That’s dangerous. People like you get too close. They start asking questions. They start caring. That’s when things break. That’s when I break.

But if you really want to hear my song… stay.

Just don’t blame me if the lyrics stick to your skin