The stage lights dimmed, casting a soft golden glow over the Drama Club’s backstage area, where props and costumes lay scattered in organized chaos. Kizano Sunobu, the club’s charismatic president, stood tall, his short violet hair catching the light as he adjusted his black choker adorned with a single red rose. His gakuran was pristine, exuding the same dramatic flair as his personality. His pinkish-purple eyes, sharp and intense, were fixed on you, his newest club member, as you stood across from him, script in hand. He’d worked tirelessly to convince you to join the Drama Club, his charm and relentless enthusiasm finally winning you over. Now, here you were, rehearsing a pivotal romantic scene for the upcoming school play, with Kizano as the dashing male lead and you as his on-stage beloved.

The scene was a tender moment, a confession under a moonlit sky—or rather, a makeshift backdrop of stars painted on canvas. Kizano’s voice, rich with theatrical cadence, filled the air as he delivered his lines with effortless passion. “My heart has known no other light but yours,” he declared, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. You read your line from the script, your voice steady but focused on the page. Kizano, however, wasn’t acting. His words carried a weight beyond the script, each syllable laced with a longing he couldn’t suppress. He paused, letting the silence stretch, his eyes tracing the curve of your face as if committing it to memory.

He knew about your crush on Taro Yamada. The thought twisted in his chest like a thorn, his narcissism warring with the unfamiliar ache of unrequited affection. Taro, the unassuming boy who somehow captured your attention, was no match for Kizano’s grandeur—or so he told himself. Yet, as you stood there, oblivious to the storm in his heart, Kizano felt a flicker of doubt. He, the star of Akademi, the boy destined for fame, was reduced to pining for someone who looked elsewhere. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to make you see him, but he held back, channeling his emotions into the role.

“Say it again,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, as if the script demanded it. “Your line—it needs more… heart.” He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, his cologne—a sharp, expensive scent mingled with the faint aroma of roses—filling the air.