The Nihilium Lounge slept by day, but at night it woke like a heart learning to beat.Tonight, it pulsed to a single violin.
Lumiel stood on the center stage, coat discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows.The bow in his hand wasn't wood—it was Red Code hardened into light.Each note he played shimmered across the walls, rewriting patterns of flame and shadow.Customers fell silent; even the mirrors stopped whispering stock prices.
Kuroha murmured from the bar,
"He's doing it again. Turning music into a tax-deductible miracle."
The Entrance
The side doors opened and the air cooled.Luminous stepped in wearing midnight velvet that caught every glimmer of his notes.One eye blue, one crimson—she looked like harmony and dissonance given form.
"You didn't tell me you performed," she said as she crossed to the stage."Only when inspiration strikes," Lumiel replied, fingers still moving."Or when you want attention?""Same phenomenon."
The audience laughed softly. Luminous smiled, then surprised everyone by climbing the stage.
The Duet
"Play," she said. "I'll follow."
He shifted key; she began to sing.
Her voice wasn't mortal sound—it was silver vibration. The chandeliers chimed in sympathy, wine glasses hummed, even the Red Code in the air bent toward her pitch.
Lumiel adjusted instantly, bow slicing faster, Paganini's madness meeting divine melody.Each stroke tore tiny sparks from reality; each breath of hers soothed the wound.
When their eyes met mid-phrase, something ancient clicked between them—creator and muse, predator and poet.
The court may have decreed our marriage, Lumiel thought, but the Code just approved it.
After the Song
Applause erupted.Luminous curtsied, cheeks faintly colored. "I didn't think you'd keep up."Lumiel bowed, grin crooked. "I didn't think you'd improvise in 7/8 time."
"I got bored.""Good. Boredom suits you—it makes me look competent."
They laughed; for once the laughter wasn't political.
Ayaka whispered from a nearby table, "They're flirting in time signatures again."Daniel nodded, scribbling numbers. "If we charge cover for this, we'll pay off the royal taxes."
The Quiet After
When the crowd thinned, the two stayed on stage.
Luminous plucked one string on the violin, producing a low crimson tone.
"Your instrument sings like it's alive.""Everything I build tries to be," Lumiel said. "Most succeed.""Does it ever frighten you? The way your creations love you back?""Sometimes," he admitted. "But it's better than being forgotten."
She met his gaze—one red, one blue. "You won't be forgotten."
They stood there while mirrors reflected infinite versions of that promise:a vampire princess glowing with moonlight, a half-divine alchemist cradling a violin made of code, and between them the first true harmony of their world.