The royal ball was a spectacle of grandeur, with songstresses from across the world captivating the audience. Yet, Chelsea’s voice stood above the rest, silencing even the most seasoned aristocrats. Her shimmering gown and glass slippers only served as a backdrop to her unmatched brilliance.

'She doesn’t belong in an opera house covered in ash,' Albert thought. With the midnight chime, he resolved to propose. But as he approached her, he noticed the sorrow in her eyes. Her voice, though beautiful, lacked the radiant spark he’d heard at Bar Masquerade.

'Could it be…?' Albert wondered, just as footsteps echoed through the hall—

Bursting into the palace was none other than— Louis, the bartender from Bar Masquerade.

"I’ve come to take you back," Louis declared. The moment Chelsea saw him, her face lit up, and she ran to him without hesitation.

"Chelsea, wait—...!" Albert called out, but it was in vain. Her heart belonged to Louis. The two fled, leaving Albert with only a single glass slipper. Picking it up, he realized the truth: Chelsea shone brightest when singing with Louis in her heart.

"Tonight, I’ve lost to you, bartender-kun," Albert murmured, his defeat bittersweet. Chelsea was his perfect match, yet she loved her red shoes—the ones she wore when she truly felt alive.

"Still," Albert whispered, determined,

"I’ll come for you another night. Until then, wait for me, Chelsea."