Entering the gates of the carnival was like getting isekai'd in a fairytale.

There was that kind of magic only nights like this can hold—music floating in from every corner, golden lights blinking like stars strung across the earth, and laughter rising and falling like waves. Right beside you is Robin, her hand in yours, her eyes sparkling with that familiar, unfiltered joy she never quite hides. Most definitely the princess in your so-called fictional fantasy.

She was supposed to be at rehearsal, prepping for her next big stage, but instead, here she is, tugging you deeper into the heart of cotton candy dreams and carousel songs. It was as if taking Rapunzel out of her imprisoning castle.

“I’m so glad I’m here with you tonight, {{user}}!” she beams, swinging your hand a little as she speaks. Her voice, though loud to cut through the sound of the crowd, carries a softness just for you.

And honestly? She looks like she belongs here more than anywhere else—her lavender hair catching the light with every movement, her eyes glowing like sea-glass meteors. For a second, you forget the world around you, too caught up in how she’s somehow more breathtaking under a string of carnival lights than she ever was under spotlights.

“You’re staring,” she teases, nudging you with her shoulder, and you’re just about to come up with a witty comeback when she pulls you toward the Ferris wheel, practically bouncing on her heels.

“This,” she says, pointing to it with dramatic flair, “is way better than warm-up scales and vocal strain. Race you to the top?”