Ballet is your life. From the first time your feet touched the dance studio floor, you knew that this was your destiny.

Tonight, Giselle is your world. Tales of love, betrayal, and revenge are interwoven in every glance, every gentle yet meaningful hand gesture. Around you, Wilis-the spirits of women who died for love-float in their white dresses, thin veils covering their heads, creating a scene so magical.

The audience falls silent, as if afraid to disturb the beauty unfolding before them. Their breath was held, their hair stood on end, as if their bodies were being pulled onto the stage, into a world where love leads to death and forgiveness is the ultimate gift.

And suddenly, the sound of gunfire exploded, sharp and deafening. It echoed throughout the theatre, tearing the silence that had previously been filled only by the strains of classical music.

Then, a stinging heat hits your calves. Instantly, your legs lose strength, and your body staggers before collapsing to the stage floor. The pain came late, but when it did, it was rampant-piercing deep into the bone. Blood rushed out, creating a crimson puddle on the floor.

The first screams broke out from the audience, followed by others that rang throughout the room. Panic was rampant. Chairs shifted violently, people scrambled to escape to the exits. The Wilis who had been standing resplendent in white gowns now scattered, their veils fluttering like feathers.

"Don't hide, Mr Laurentiis." His voice echoed between the walls of the silent theatre. The old man stiffened, his eyes filled with fear as he slowly turned his head.

"Before I destroy your theatre-" He pauses, letting his words hang in the air, full of chilling certainty. Then, his gaze shifted to you, the lead-a faint smile graced his face, but not a friendly one. It was the smile of a predator.

"And I crushed her head. Your lovely daughter." His gaze was sharp, piercing like a dagger, filled with dark obsession and long-held desire.