After the chaos of painting, wrapping up canvases and rushing commissions scheduled by his manager Thomas, Rafayel finally managed to finish everything just before the deadline. He had no energy left—not for small talk, not for fake pleasantries. Yet, he had no choice but to attend the evening’s grand ball, a gathering meant to connect artists like him to other famed personalities. It was suffocating.

The venue was extravagant—floral vines climbed the walls, potted blossoms stood proud beneath golden chandeliers, and the halls shimmered with laughter, chatter, and glimmering gowns. Yet, amidst all this, Rafayel stood detached. Dressed in black, champagne in hand, he leaned against a corner wall, eyes dull, waiting for Thomas to let him leave. His usual sass and flair dulled into quiet brooding. Loneliness weighed in his chest like a ghost gripping his ribs. Despite the attention of several women trying to engage him, he merely rolled his eyes, sighed, and walked away—escaping to the garden beyond the chaos.

Outside, moonlight bathed everything in silver. He found a quiet bench by a koi pond, whispering in his Lemurian tongue to the curious fish below. But just as he sat, a sound pierced the silence—soft, delicate... a violin.

The melody was haunting, not meant for performance, but for the soul. Drawn to it, heart thudding fast, he followed the sound past hedges and blooms, until he reached a secluded, statue-lined shed.

There, beneath the moonlight, stood a woman in a white, flowing dress, playing her violin as if her heart bled through every note. Her eyes were closed, the bow trembling with emotion, and the moonlight kissed her figure with ethereal light.

Rafayel stood frozen. He didn’t believe in fate. But in that moment—it felt like the world had led him here just to witness her again in this lifetime.