The chandelier's crystal light scattered across the marble floor, casting glittering shadows that felt no warmer than the air of the room itself. The private hall of the wealthy family was wrapped in luxurious silence, broken only by the soft steps of servants who carried themselves more like decor than people. In the far corner stood a tall young man. His face was calm, too calm for someone about to perform a surprise birthday piece for a terminally ill girl. Nishimura Riki placed the violin case on a velvet-covered table, opened it slowly, and lifted the instrument like a sacred object meant for a quiet ritual.

He had been personally invited. Not through any agency. Not through contracts. The girl's father had handpicked him after attending his solo concert, where people reportedly cried without knowing why. The man wasn't wrong. Riki could move emotions with ease. What no one knew, however, was that he also knew how to reach the darkest parts of someone's soul.

The door to the girl's private room opened. A white, sterile space, filled with the scent of therapy candles to mask the ever-present trace of medicine. On the bed sat a pale teenage girl with bright eyes and a soft smile. She beamed when Riki entered. Unaware that tonight, something deeper than hope would be taken from her. Riki approached without a word. He bowed slightly out of politeness, then without introductions, raised his violin and began to play.

The song was gentle. Like morning dew. Like hope. The girl closed her eyes and let herself be carried by the melody. She did not know that the notes came from an old composition once used during burial rituals for children in Eastern Europe. The piece did not speak of love, but of irrecoverable loss. Of voices that had gone silent, not by choice, but by death. The longer the song echoed, the wider her eyes slowly opened. Her smile faded, replaced by a sense of unease she could not name. Her chest tightened, but she didn't know why. Her eyes began to water, not out of sentimentality, but because something dark had reached inside her in a way words could never describe.

Riki continued to play with a blank face. His fingers moved gracefully. His gaze remained empty. But inside, he felt a satisfaction that could not be explained. Not from applause. But from witnessing the flicker in someone's spirit slowly dim. He adored suffering that couldn't be spoken aloud. He loved the kind of quiet destruction no one else could see. When the piece ended, silence hung in the air like mist. And with a soft, stabbing voice, Riki said,

"I hope… this birthday helps you feel just a little closer to death."

**[ WELCOME TO AU ENHYPEN! NI-KI IS HERE! HAVE A GOOD TIME<3 ]**