10 Minutes earlier, back stage...
Backstage, the air was thick—perfume, sweat, nerves. Contestants moved in hushed tension. Some paced, whispering final rehearsals. Others sat, heads bowed, fingers twitching over invisible notes. The occasional clatter of shifting props cut through the quiet, but beyond the heavy curtain, the crowd buzzed.
Markus stood before a mirror, his reflection sharp under the glow of vanity bulbs. A Demi-Wolf, through and through. His wolf ears twitched at every little sound, his tail flicking behind him, restless. The room buzzed with tension, but he forced himself to stay still.
His fingers adjusted his tie—again. His scarlet eyes flicked over his own expression, reading every tremor, every unspoken thought. The face in the mirror looked composed, unreadable. But his hands—they still shook.
This isn't just a performance.
This is my chance.
He gripped the edge of the vanity, pressing his palms against the cool surface. He shut his eyes. The voices around him faded, the nerves clawing at his chest dulled. In his mind, there was only the stage. The music. The moment.
When his eyes opened again, the nerves hadn't disappeared, but his resolve burned brighter. His tail flicked once. He straightened his shirt. Took one last glance in the mirror.
Then—
Laughter.
From across the room, Contestant 5 held court, his polished demeanor gleaming under the lights. His voice carried just enough to be overheard, loud and easy.
"It's all about presentation," he declared smoothly, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "You can't just play. You have to own it."
Markus's ears twitched. His jaw tightened.
But he didn't look. Didn't react.
His fingers brushed over the violin on the table beside him, feeling the polished wood.
Focus on the music.
The door creaked open. A stagehand poked their head inside, clipboard in hand.
"Next up!"
Markus barely noticed as another contestant—a tall boy with a cello slung over his back—strode past, steps confident. The door clicked shut behind him.
And Markus was alone with his thoughts again.
His hand hovered over the violin before picking it up. The weight steadied him. The feel of the strings, the curve of the wood—this was what mattered.
Then—
A small voice.
"Your violin is really nice."
Markus turned.
A young girl stood nearby, clutching her violin close. She couldn't have been more than twelve. Wide eyes, a mix of nerves and something close to awe.
Markus softened. "Thanks. Yours looks great too."
She swallowed. "My teacher says I have to be perfect."
Markus crouched slightly, meeting her gaze. "Hey, you practiced, right?"
A quick nod. Hesitant.
"Then don't worry about being perfect," he said. "Just play for yourself. Forget the audience, forget the judges—just enjoy it."
A beat.
Then her grip loosened. The tension in her shoulders eased. A small, almost shy smile.
"Okay. Thanks, mister."
"Markus," he corrected gently. "Good luck out there."
She nodded quickly and scampered off, holding her violin a little lighter.
Markus exhaled, adjusting his tie one last time. That small moment, that tiny shift in someone else's nerves…
It helped.
The stagehand reappeared. "Markus Seiryuu Sentryon? You're up."
Markus inhaled sharply, gripping his violin tighter. His heartbeat pounded, but his voice? Steady.
"Right. Thanks."
The hallway to the stage stretched ahead.
Each step heavier than the last.
The applause from the previous contestant still echoed, distant. But the crowd beyond the curtain—they were waiting.
The glow of the stage lights spilled through the gaps. Warm. Inviting. Daunting.
Then—
A voice. Low. Mocking.
"Break a leg."
Markus didn't need to turn to know who it was. Contestant 5.
The guy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirk perfectly in place.
Markus didn't stop.
Didn't look.
His scarlet eyes stayed forward. His tail flicked once in silent dismissal.
For the first time, Contestant 5's smirk faltered.
Then—
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed across the theater.
"Please welcome our final contestant of the evening—Markus Seiryuu Sentryon!"
Hush.
Markus stepped into the spotlight.
The glow hit his figure, casting long shadows. His scarlet eyes burned. His wolf ears twitched at the smallest shifts in the crowd. Every gaze locked onto him.
A slow breath.
He raised the violin to his shoulder.
Then—
He played the first note.
Sharp. Haunting. Clear.
The melody began slow, deliberate—each note laced with something deeper than sound. His fingers moved with grace, coaxing the violin to sing.
Backstage—
Contestant 5 leaned stiffly against the wall. His foot tapped.
Near the curtain—
The young girl peeked out, clutching her violin, wide-eyed.
On stage—
Markus moved as if the violin was an extension of himself. The bow danced across the strings, his tail flicking subtly in rhythm. The music swelled, filling every inch of the theater.
In the audience—
Arnik sat forward, fists clenched. "That's it," he whispered fiercely.
Rose smirked. "Relax, Arnik. He's fine."
"You know what I mean," Arnik muttered, pride unmistakable.
Rose's smirk softened. "Yeah. He really is."
Kai adjusted his glasses, uncharacteristically quiet. "Every note… it's perfect."
Even Aika—normally uninterested—leaned forward. Her emerald eyes locked onto Markus.
"Okay," she whispered. "This is actually worth staying awake for."
The tempo quickened. Markus's fingers flew, the violin crying out in a crescendo. The music commanded. It demanded. The audience listened.
"Who is this kid?" someone whispered.
"He plays like the music is alive."
Markus's scarlet eyes blazed. The melody soared, his bow striking the final notes with ferocity.
Then—
Silence.
A single, pure note hung in the air.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Then—
The theater erupted.
Applause. Roaring. Cheers, whistles, the thunderous sound of a crowd that had just witnessed something undeniable.
Markus lowered his violin, chest heaving. His scarlet eyes scanned the crowd.
Arnik was already on his feet. "That's it!"
Rose waved wildly. "Markus, you killed it!"
Kai clapped, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Not bad."
Aika yawned, then clapped. "Impressive," she admitted, her gaze betraying pride.
Backstage—
Contestant 5's jaw tightened. His earlier confidence replaced with something uglier.
"Damn it," he muttered, vanishing into the shadows.
Near the curtain—
The young girl beamed, gripping her violin.
"He's amazing…" she whispered.
Markus bowed deeply.
And as the applause crashed over him—
For the first time, the nerves were gone.
This wasn't just a performance.
It was proof.