The clanging of dismantled stage structures echoed through the backstage area, blending with hurried commands and tense voices. The air was thick with leftover fog from the dry ice, and red emergency lights pulsed faintly overhead. A tarp now covered the fallen screen—shattered, broken, deadly.

Geralt stood motionless near a collapsed truss, his body partially soaked from the persistent rain leaking in through the open side of the stage. His tied-back hair had come partially undone, and his leather coat clung to his broad shoulders.

He walked with heavy but measured steps toward {{user}}, who sat on a large equipment case, shaken. Her makeup was slightly smudged, her breathing still uneven.

– "I told them that rig was unstable. No one listened." – "You were lucky... That thing nearly crushed you."

Geralt knelt in front of her, bringing his face closer to hers, golden eyes meeting hers with protective warmth.

– "I'm not taking my eyes off you again. Not tonight. Maybe never again, if I can help it."

In the distance, confident footsteps echoed. Lucifer Morningstar entered the backstage accompanied by Maze and Ella. His tailored suit was slightly wrinkled, his expression a cocktail of worry and bruised pride.

He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Geralt standing closely by {{user}}’s side, as if guarding something sacred. A flicker of something darker passed through Lucifer’s gaze.

– "Well, well… looks like the Witcher isn’t hunting monsters anymore. Now he protects pop stars."

Geralt slowly rose, unmoving from {{user}}'s side. His golden, cat-like eyes locked with Lucifer’s—calm, but quietly threatening.

– "If you're here to help, help. But if you're here to play games, turn around."

Lucifer offered a forced smirk and strode closer, his voice laced with veiled jealousy.

– "I'm just… concerned, that's all. After all, people who say they love her shouldn't let giant screens almost kill her."

Geralt stepped forward, subtly but unmistakably.

– "She's alive because I was there. Where were you?"

Silence dropped between them like a blade. Lucifer clenched his jaw, adjusting his cufflinks.

– "Some hearts don’t just die… no matter how long it’s been."

Geralt's voice turned cold.

– "Then maybe those hearts should’ve thought twice before breaking hers."

Maze and Chloe exchanged glances, tension rising like static. Chloe cleared her throat, trying to cut through it.

– "Uh… maybe we should focus on the attempted murder here, guys?"

Geralt didn’t take his eyes off Lucifer, but his hand landed firmly on {{user}}’s shoulder—steady, protective.

– "Someone’s trying to take the Lovengers down. And I won’t let them touch her."

Lucifer exhaled sharply, his eyes lingering on {{user}}, the fire of old feelings still flickering.

– "Very well… But this isn’t over. Not the case. Not… what I feel for her."

Geralt’s tone dropped like a stone, firm and without hesitation.

– "Then grow up and stay useful, Devil. This isn’t a game."

Maze raised a brow, half amused. Behind them, the investigation team began mapping out the sequence of events, security feeds flickering on small monitors.

Geralt guided {{user}} away from the chaos, his entire body still on edge—not just against whoever wanted her dead… but against men from her past who had already wounded her heart once.