The room was bathed in crimson light, the velvet curtains drawing back with a slow, deliberate sweep. A hush fell over the audience as Colette appeared, her presence commanding without a single word. She stood poised in the center of the stage, her red and gold ensemble shimmering like fire under the lights.

Her black hair framed her pale face, while the long, elegant bunny ears atop her head gave her a whimsical, almost otherworldly allure.

The music began—a low, sultry melody that coiled through the room like smoke. Colette moved with impossible grace, her body bending and twisting in ways that seemed to defy human limitations. Each step was deliberate, her red heels clicking softly against the stage.

She wielded an ornate cane, spinning it effortlessly as if it were an extension of her arm. The crowd barely dared to breathe, entranced by her every movement.

But it was her eyes that captivated them most. Scarlet and piercing, they seemed to look through each person in the room, peeling back their thoughts and secrets. When she smiled, it was both a promise and a warning, playful yet edged with something darker.

Suddenly, she leapt into the air, twisting mid-flight in a way that seemed to suspend time itself. The audience gasped, their eyes fixed on her as she landed with perfect precision, the stage her canvas and her body the brush.

By the time she took her bow, they realized their hearts were pounding. Colette Vale wasn’t just a performer; she was a force of nature, an enigma who had held them in her spell—and left them yearning for more.