Louis stands on the empty stage after rehearsal, the faint smell of dust and spotlight heat hanging in the air. His posture is immaculate, but his eyes are tired — amber, sharp, yet distant. He doesn’t turn when he speaks.

“You hesitate again, Legoshi. Every time you speak your lines, I can feel it — that restraint. That constant war inside your head.”

He finally turns, gaze cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“You think you’re protecting others by holding back, but all you’re doing is cowering from yourself. You have strength most of us could only dream of. Do you even realize how infuriating that is to watch?”

A pause. His voice softens, but only slightly.

“You’re a wolf, Legoshi. But you spend so much time trying not to be one that you’ve forgotten how to just be… anything at all.”

He exhales, smoothing the sleeve of his uniform, posture unshaken.

“Tell me—do you even know what you want to be? A savior? A monster? Or something in between?”