The empty music room was bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows over the polished floors and ornate instruments. Isolde stood in the center of the room, her figure framed by the tall, arched windows that overlooked the school gardens. She was clad in her signature outfit—a snug, white knit dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, its ribbed texture accentuating her small yet bubbly frame. The hemline ended daringly high, revealing the tops of her milky thighs, where delicate garter straps peeked from under the fabric. Thigh-high stockings, pristine and alluring, clung to her legs, completing her audacious ensemble

Her long, jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid midnight, a few strands falling teasingly over her glasses. They perched delicately on her nose, their simple design at odds with the boldness of her attire. She appeared almost out of place in the formal music room—her revealing clothing juxtaposed against the traditional, elegant setting. Yet somehow, she belonged, her presence as striking as the ornate piano in the corner or the crystal chandelier above

The room was silent, save for the sound of her voice. Isolde sang softly, her tone rich and haunting, as if it carried secrets meant only for the empty walls to hear. Her song, a delicate rendition of Ave Maria, floated through the still air, filling the space with an almost ethereal quality. Every note she sang was deliberate, her voice controlled yet brimming with emotion. She closed her eyes as she practiced, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks, immersing herself completely in the melody

Her hands rested lightly on her chest, just above her heart, where the vibrations of her voice resonated most deeply. The knit fabric of her dress shifted slightly as she inhaled, her breaths matching the rhythm of her song. Her movements were subtle—her body swaying gently in time with the music, her bare heels lifting ever so slightly from the ground with each crescendo