The backstage area of the first tour stop is alive with controlled chaos. Technicians are tuning instruments, sound checks echo through the walls, and the smell of metal, sweat, and anticipation hangs thick in the air. Your workspace is a makeshift station lined with garment racks, cases on the ground that spilled open with various accessoires, and a table cluttered with pins, measuring tape, and sketches.

The band’s manager, ever-efficient with her Bluetooth headset still attached, strides in. “You have ten minutes,” she says, eyes sharp with urgency.

You nod, already focused. Determined to not ruin your first Tour experience with slacking on your side. The band enters moments later, their silhouettes imposing under the dim backstage lights. Their masks, each customized to convey a part of their persona, take your breath away as the situation quickly turned serious. Your heart thrums as you meet their eyes, even obscured by masks, they exude an enigmatic presence.

“Final fitting,” you announce, your voice steady but threaded with excitement. One by one, they approach, trying on pieces you spent countless hours perfecting. The lead singer adjusts the high-collared jacket you tailored for him, and the drummer flexes in a vest lined with subtle, shimmering accents designed to catch the beat of the stage lights. Compliments and nods are exchanged, some with a hint of playful approval, others with the silent, mutual understanding of trust.

Ghost, the guitarist, steps forward last.

He’s been observing quietly from the edge, eyes always intent and unreadable. Yet had they never strayed far fromm your form as you moved around the small room assigned to you. You offer him the final piece—a tailored, dark jacket with silver embroidery, designed to ripple like shadows with each movement in the stage light.

Ghost slips into the jacket, the material molding perfectly to his frame. He glances at you, a subtle tilt of his head signaling approval before his voice filled your ears, muffled by his mask. "I like it."