Twenty Minutes Before the Incident
Approximately twenty minutes before the incident occurred.
"Aah, brrr, brrr, brrr. Aah."
Lyla had finished setting up the stage and running through rehearsals. Now, standing before the mirror, she loosened her throat in preparation for the upcoming concert.
"……I'm hungry."
She rubbed her stomach as it let out a small, protesting growl, then slumped weakly into a chair. Every singer had their own quirks. Some needed a full meal before performing, claiming their voices flowed better on a full stomach. Others performed best on an empty one. If Lyla had to choose, she fell into the latter category. More precisely, she was the type who needed just enough to take the edge off her hunger with a light snack, leaving her comfortable enough to sing her best once she stepped on stage.
This habit had started in her childhood. Back then, her nerves were so bad that she often suffered stomachaches right before going on stage. Over time, it had simply become routine, persisting even now that she was far more accustomed to performing. Perhaps because she had grown so used to singing on an empty stomach, performing with a full one made her volume and pitch feel slightly off, almost awkward.
"I wonder when Chum will get here."
Maybe it was because this was her first nationwide tour in a while that she felt so excited. Whatever the reason, the stress was wearing her out faster than usual. Even after finishing every snack her manager usually kept stocked for her, the hunger still gnawed at her. At this rate, no matter how well she sang, she wouldn't have the stamina to last through the performance.
'I can't afford to make any mistakes.'
Until her manager arrived, she tried to soothe her hunger with water while clutching something she'd pulled from her bag against her chest like a doll. It was a pair of shoes stained with faint red marks. This, too, was part of her routine. That day's memory had been seared into her like a nightmare. Even now, just thinking about it made her legs tremble so badly she could collapse on the spot. It was a form of PTSD, a mental disorder so severe she had to undergo psychiatric treatment for it.
The only thing that could calm her was holding these shoes. Around the same time she stopped getting stomachaches before going on stage, her fear of performing had also begun to fade. Perhaps that trauma had washed away along with her stage fright. She let out a deep sigh as her racing heartbeat finally began to settle, wondering if this was what people meant by "a blessing in disguise."
"Come to think of it, that fan was supposed to come today."
Now that her mind was calmer, her hunger felt even sharper. She was about to call Chum to hurry up when she suddenly recalled something from a few days ago and let out a small laugh. She had been so flustered when the request came from the royal family. Apparently, a friend of the princess was a fan of hers and wanted to meet her before the concert started. Of course, they had said there was no pressure and that she could refuse if she wanted, but how could anyone really turn down a request like that? The president had stammered and pleaded with her in a trembling voice. Whether you called him kind or simply timid and small-minded, receiving a direct request from the royal family must have made his heart drop straight into his stomach.
'They could've just asked normally.'
She could have refused. The president cared more about his artists than anyone else. Even if refusing had brought trouble from the royal family, he would have put her wishes first. Because of that, Lyla didn't want to cause him any unnecessary trouble. Compared to everything she had received from him, this was nothing. Besides, she had no intention of complaining about meeting a fan.
"This is kind of nice. Waiting for me and all."
Just then, a voice spoke from behind her as she stared at her smartphone. It was unfamiliar, yet unmistakably familiar. The sound that triggered her trauma made her face drain of color before she could even turn to see who it was.
"If you're a fan, you're talking about me, right?"
She shot to her feet in shock and spun around. There, perched on the windowsill, was someone she never expected to see again. His hair looked like it had been hacked unevenly with household scissors, and his unkempt beard suggested he hadn't shaved in at least a month. His unfocused pupils and the dark circles beneath his eyes, as if he'd been on drugs, only heightened her terror.
"But how did you know I'd be here?"
The man stepped down from the windowsill into the waiting room, lighting a cigarette as he walked toward her.
"Did we have some kind of telepathic connection? Guess we're soulmates after all, Lyla."
He exhaled a plume of smoke and grinned. That face. That smile. That posture. She could never forget them. She had seen that exact face under the streetlights on that dark night. She remembered it clearly.
"W-why are you here……?"
He should have been dead. She hadn't misremembered. She had watched with her own eyes as the police collected his body.
"You're that happy to see me? I knew you missed me too."
While Lyla trembled in fear, the distance between them had already closed considerably. She snapped back to her senses and glanced at her smartphone. The screen displayed a message: out of service range.
"Is anyone out there?! Help me!"
She rushed to the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Signal jamming, entrance sealed, and soundproofing from the outside. Freddy watched her every desperate attempt with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"It's no use. You know how I am, don't you?"
He didn't want anyone interrupting their time together. That was why, during their last meeting, he had ordered his subordinates to clear the entire area around the venue. This time was no different. In fact, he had been even more thorough. Even with all that preparation last time, an intruder had ruined their private fan meeting.
"This time, I'm not letting you go. My beloved Lyla, the one I love most in this world."
"Don't come any closer!"
Terrified, Lyla hurled her smartphone and the shoes at him. While his attention was diverted, she dove to the side, snatched up her fallen bag, and pulled out the self-defense artifact her president had insisted she carry ever since the incident ten years ago. She aimed it straight at Freddy.
"Guh!"
Before she could activate it, a sudden gust of wind slammed her against the wall. Freddy strode after her and grabbed her by the collar, his earlier amused expression replaced by one of fury.
"Why the hell do you have this, Lyla?!"
In his other hand, he held up the pair of shoes. The very weapon that had killed him, stained with his own blood. Perhaps the sight of that old memory triggered something. His grip on her collar tightened. She couldn't breathe. She kicked and struggled, but his hand around her throat was like stone, unmoving. Her face turned deathly pale as she wondered if this was how she would die. Just as her limbs began to go limp, Freddy let out a soft "Ah" and loosened his grip.
"I see. You should've just said so, Lyla. You wanted to remember me, so you kept the thing that witnessed my final moments with you."
He answered his own question with an absurd conclusion and accepted it. Then he pulled the unconscious Lyla into his arms and rubbed his cheek against her disheveled hair.
"This time, no one can interfere. I won't let anyone get in the way. Now then, let's start our private fan meeting again. My Lyla."
You're mine.
In the waiting room, now a mess from the earlier magic, Freddy continued to chuckle with obsessive, mad eyes fixed on Lyla. For a long while, he simply sat there, gently stroking her lovely hair.
'So this is where she was subdued.'
Kain had slipped in through the window and was walking leisurely when magic suddenly activated. Judging from the lingering spell pattern in the air, it was basic wind magic created by manipulating mana. Given the caster's skill, it had enough force to subdue an ordinary person. From this, it seemed the attacker had no intention of actually killing the singer Lyla.
'Thanks to that, her attempt to use the artifact failed.'
Even if she had used it, whether she could have fully subdued him was questionable. A quick glance at the spell formula suggested it was a fairly high-grade artifact, expensive enough to handle someone beyond a beginner up to an intermediate level. Still, it was insufficient against the opponent he had roughly assessed.
'At least if the artifact had activated, she could have broken the spell sealing the room and alerted the outside.'
If the artifact had worked, Lyla wouldn't have been kidnapped like this, forcing him to arrive after the fact. After a brief scan of the waiting room, Kain turned his head indifferently, as if none of it concerned him, and adjusted his glasses.
"Check the CCTV! See if there was anyone suspicious!"
"He probably escaped through the window! Use the tracking artifact!"
The ones moving most frantically right now were the private security guards hired by Lyla's agency. Their client had been kidnapped right under their noses. Not only was her safety at stake, but so was their reputation. If anything happened to Lyla, their stock would plummet due to breach of contract, and they would be buried in lawsuits.
'This is the only time we can resolve this with minimal cost.'
In a capitalist society, their mindset wasn't necessarily bad. Thanks to it, they were at least moving quickly to find the missing Lyla.
"N-noona… how……"
The one who was completely useless in this situation wasn't the guards, but the manager. Perhaps he had panicked because Lyla had disappeared. Chum paced anxiously, unsure what to do, not even thinking to inform the agency president. If Kain had even one subordinate this frustrating, he would have smacked the back of their head hard enough to make it vanish.
'Well, lucky for me.'
Things had worked out. Since Lyla was gone, the concert couldn't continue. Even if she returned, the incident made cancellation highly likely. Just as he was about to turn to Arina and suggest leaving the rest to these people so he could go home and charge his smartphone—
"……Damn it."
It wasn't just the manager who was at a loss. Right beside him, Arina was also glancing around restlessly, unable to hide her anxiety and unease. What caught Kain's eye most was the tears welling up in her eyes. Those eyes were filled with worry for the missing Lyla.
"……"
He wanted to just leave. Lyla or whoever she was, he had no interest in some woman whose face he barely knew, even if she suddenly died somewhere. But seeing Arina's expression, he couldn't bring himself to say it.
'Should I contact my subordinates?'
He scratched the back of his head in frustration. Come to think of it, his smartphone wasn't even charged. He didn't remember their numbers anyway.
"Oh? What's this?"
Just then, as he was thinking how troublesome this had become and carefully scanning the waiting room for any clues, something caught Kain's eye. At the same time, the corner of his mouth twisted upward. Behind his glasses, his lowered eyes shimmered with a violet glow.