The dressing room continued to buzz with excitement, the vibrant energy of the recent performance still coursing through the veins of Viona and her fellow artists. Their animated conversations ranged from heartfelt reflections on the emotions experienced during their time on stage to the persistent nerves that had clung to them while awaiting their cues in the wings.
Amidst the lively chatter, Viona occasionally chimed in, her mind split between participating in the discussion and wandering into her own musings. She stood out not only for her unique perspective but also for her attire—an eye-catching red dress adorned with elegant black accents that left nothing exposed, a choice that had become a symbol of her evolving self.
In her own way, Viona had intentionally chosen an outfit that not only covered her body but also radiated an aura of attention-grabbing charm. It was a subtle but powerful statement of her individuality and her commitment to embracing her newfound preferences without compromising her identity as an artist.
As the group changed out of their stage costumes and into more comfortable clothing, they returned to the vibrant party area with smiles that mirrored their success and the joy of the evening. The atmosphere was electric, with laughter and congratulatory messages filling the air, creating a collective sense of celebration and accomplishment.
However, the mood took an intriguing turn when the MCs announced the presence of VIPs who were eager to meet with the performers. This revelation stirred curiosity and anticipation among the students. For Viona, though, the prospect was met with uncertainty. She was aware of the privilege associated with her last name, Amethyst, which had a tendency to open doors and create opportunities with a mere mention.
Nevertheless, Viona had always been resolute in her determination to carve her own path, untethered from her family's fame and connections. She placed her faith in her talent and dedication as an artist, rejecting any notion of relying on her family's name to secure opportunities. She was determined to prove herself on her own merits.
With this unwavering conviction in mind, Viona decided to take a different route than the VIP meet-and-greet. Instead, she set off on a quest to explore the party's culinary offerings, driven by a desire to immerse herself in the festivities and soak in the jubilant spirit of the occasion. Little did she suspect that trouble might find its way to her, despite her genuine intentions.
Before long, her solitude was interrupted by the approach of a middle-aged man who cast her a peculiar look. The encounter unfolded in a manner that confirmed her reservations about mingling with the VIPs.
"Are you Viona Amethyst? How about becoming my artist?" the man inquired, his tone and demeanor unsettling.
Viona responded with a skeptical look, her reservations about engaging with the VIPs validated. They often embodied unpleasant, pretentious, and untrustworthy qualities that she had no desire to associate with. "I don't want to," she replied, her tone icy, hoping that this would dissuade the man from further pursuit.
Undeterred, the man persisted, attempting to lure her with promises of fame and wealth. "Come on, don't be so difficult. I can offer you many film roles or anything you desire. You'll also make money easily," he urged, attempting to inch closer to Viona.
Viona instinctively distanced herself, emphasizing her lack of interest. "I'm an Amethyst; I don't need money from being an artist. You'd do well to keep your distance; I have no intention of causing unnecessary trouble," she cautioned, her sarcasm palpable.
The man, seemingly irritated, attempted to assert his influence. "Don't be naive. I don't know who the Amethysts are, but rest assured they can't match the wealth, abundant resources, and immense opportunities that I possess. I've elevated countless international artists to a level you won't easily forget."
Viona's spine tingled with unease as the man's unsettling words hung in the air, intensifying her discomfort. Her instincts were practically screaming at her to put more distance between herself and this stranger. She wasted no time in issuing a stern warning, her voice laced with determination and resolve.
"I don't know who you are, but if you attempt to get any closer, I will scream," she declared, her words leaving no room for ambiguity. Simultaneously, she swatted away the hand that had inched closer, a clear physical boundary that she had no intention of allowing to be crossed.
The man's response, however, took a sinister turn. "You're quite the intriguing girl," he muttered, inching closer despite her clear discomfort.
Viona squinted, scanning her surroundings, and quickly realized that no one was paying attention to their unsettling exchange. Gathering her courage, she let out a piercing scream, "KYAAAAA!!!"
The room immediately went silent, and all eyes turned towards Viona, who appeared distraught and frightened in the presence of the unsettling man. Several women with maternal instincts rushed to her side, forming a protective barrier between her and the stranger.
"What do you think you're doing? Why are you bothering Viona?" one of the women scolded the man, her anger evident.
"This is none of your business! Just mind your own business and don't interfere," the man retorted angrily.
"What business are you doing that's making Viona cry? It's clear you have ill intentions, isn't it? Come on, admit it!"
"I told you to mind your own-"
Viona, still trembling, interrupted the escalating confrontation with a soft, tearful voice. "I told him I wasn't interested... but he tried to touch me and said strange things. He also gave me that strange look. I want to go home," she sobbed, tears staining her cheeks and the woman's dress she clung to.
The room's mood instantly shifted as pity and concern washed over the onlookers. They turned their collective gaze toward the unsettling man, who was now struggling to defend himself.
Recognizing that he was losing the battle and facing the wrath of the women who had rallied around Viona, the man grumbled in frustration and retreated. It was clear that he could not withstand the united front against him.
As the tension eased, Viona furrowed her brows, struggling to recall where she had encountered this man before. It didn't take long for her to realize that he was Albus Elaine, the owner of a nightclub who would soon become embroiled in a scandal that would potentially bankrupt him.
Viona's eyes narrowed as she contemplated her next course of action. Waiting a few years to see him face legal consequences for his actions didn't sit well with her. She couldn't help but think that she might expedite the process of his downfall, ensuring that justice was served sooner rather than later.
Her thoughts swirled with a sense of determination as she considered the role she might play in holding this pedophilic man accountable for his actions. Trouble had indeed found her, but she was ready to confront it head-on and ensure that justice prevailed.