The silence in the room after Haruto's performance was heavy, almost tangible. The air still hung thick with the emotions of pain and tragedy.
Then Daiki broke that silence. He stood up, stretching like a cat, his deep red vampire costume flaring out like bat wings in the darkness.
"My turn," Daiki said, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "After such heartbreaking tragedies, let everyone enjoy a masterpiece of charm and mystery."
He walked to a corner of the room, covered by a black cloth. With a dramatic gesture, Daiki pulled the cloth away, revealing a glossy black grand piano, positioned under a silver spotlight.
The piano looked as if it had just stepped out of a European castle, with intricate carvings of roses and vines. Daiki sat on the piano stool, his hands hovering over the keys.
"The vampire in my story," Daiki explained, "isn't just a bloodthirsty predator. He is an artist, one crazily obsessed with beauty. And the most beautiful thing to him... is himself when transformed into a woman."
The room lights dimmed further, leaving only the silver spotlight shining down on Daiki and the piano. The screen behind him displayed the image of an ancient castle on a moonlit night, surrounded by drifting mist.
...Daiki began to play.
The first notes of "Moonlight Sonata" resonated, slow and profound. On the screen, the image of an exquisitely beautiful male vampire appeared in the old castle. His beauty transcended gender, captivating anyone who saw him.
He had lived for centuries, with an irresistible power of allure. He used that very beauty as his perfect trap. Countless beautiful women, nobles or commoners, were willing to offer their hearts and their blood to him. They were infatuated with him, worshipped him, saw him as the embodiment of ultimate beauty.
Gradually, this admiration made him complacent. The praise, the enamored gazes, the unconditional sacrifices... all reinforced a belief in him: I am the pinnacle of beauty. In this world, no creature, not even the most beautiful women, can compare to me.
But then, after enchanting so many women, a question began to haunt him: "Does there exist an individual, a woman whose beauty truly rivals mine?"
This question became an obsession. He began to experiment. In a sealed room of the castle, he dressed himself in the most magnificent gowns, applied exquisite makeup, and wore long, silky wigs. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a new image – the same face, but now bearing an irresistible feminine beauty.
He stepped outside in female form. Strangely, he still attracted the gazes of many men. They were enamored by "her" beauty, but he felt no interest in men's blood. He still only drank women's blood, as if it were an unchangeable instinct.
And then he realized a strange curse: each time he drank the blood of a woman, his body would transform. Perhaps it was a curse from the very women he had charmed and enthralled, only to be discarded after he drank their blood. They wanted him to experience the fate of a woman – beautiful but treated like a plaything, adored then cast aside.
Then one night, after draining the blood of a maiden famed as the most beautiful in the region, something strange happened to his body, like a large ripple changing into tiny waves on a still lake:
He felt his body tremble. A sharp pain shot through his spine, a burning sensation spreading throughout his body. He looked into the mirror and watched in horror as the reflection changed.
His shoulders narrowed. His hips widened. The angular lines of his face softened, becoming more delicate and elegant. His hair grew longer, silkier. His tall frame remained, but was now adorned with sensual curves, alluring in a completely new way.
As the screen transitioned to show the story of the female vampire, the music suddenly shifted. Daiki closed his eyes, his fingers moving across the keys more powerfully, more intensely. Daiki paused the piece about the character with a mysterious smile. He stood up, left the piano, and stepped to the center of the stage under the silver light.
"And now," Daiki spoke, his voice deep and warm with a hint of eeriness, "let me show you the perfection my vampire craves... piece by piece."
He started with the tie. His slender fingers slowly removed it, letting it drop to the floor like a black leaf. Then came the buttons of the vest jacket. Each unfastened button produced a small "click" in the silent space. The jacket fell away, revealing a delicate white dress shirt underneath, clinging to his body.
Outside the window, the Gyaru group began to stir.
"Hey, look..."
"His body is really..."
Daiki didn't stop. His fingers moved to the dress shirt. Button by button was undone, revealing his sun-kissed, healthy skin, the well-defined muscles sculpted through months of hard training. When the last shirt finally slipped from his shoulders and onto the black carpet, a perfect body was revealed under the light: broad shoulders, a strong chest, abdominal muscles as taut as if carved from marble. It was a masculine beauty, powerful yet incredibly sensual, drawing admiration from anyone who saw it.
The excitement outside the window instantly exploded.
"Oh my god! So hot!"
"Take a picture! Quick, take a picture!"
"I can't see properly! Let me see!"
Yumi and the other girls momentarily forgot all rules. They pushed and shoved, scrambling for the best spots at the window crack. Phones were raised, lenses lunged forward, trying to capture this rare moment. The atmosphere became chaotic, filled with giggles and extreme excitement.
Daiki on stage smiled, a triumphant smile. He knew he had complete control of the stage and these unwitting spectators.
And then, right at the moment when all eyes were fixated on his body, when fingers were trying to zoom in closer on phone screens...
Whoosh!
A thick, heavy black curtain fell from the ceiling like a stage drape, completely obscuring the view of Daiki, to everyone's astonishment.
"Ah! What happened!"
"It was just getting good..."
"Pull it back up!"