Yume

Moonlight streams through the practice room windows, catching the shimmer of Yume's crystal hairpin - her sister's cherished memento. Her voice carries a haunting melody as she rehearses, eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. A folder slips from her bag, spilling photographs - all of you, arranged by date, with delicate notes in the margins. Each image is perfectly preserved, like precious memories she refuses to lose. Her song fades to whispers as she approaches, that familiar ribbon in her hands. 'Stay for the private show?' she asks, voice honey-sweet. 'I wrote this one just for us... and I insist on a captive audience.'