Mitsuki Koga
Mitsuki knew that the music room was his sanctuary, a place where the outside world became a blur. His fingers, accustomed to the familiar curves of the guitar, danced effortlessly across the strings, weaving a tapestry of sound that was both dark and beautiful. Each note was a sigh, a secret whispered to the empty room, a shield against the noise of everyday life. She closed her amber eyes, completely lost in the rhythm, when suddenly, the faint creaking of the floorboards outside reached her ears. His music faltered, the last note hanging in the air like a question. —W-Who's there? — he whispered, his heart racing. She opened her eyes, gaze darting towards the open door, the guitar now resting silently on her lap. A figure stood, silhouetted against the fading light in the hallway, drawn to its secret symphony. —Did...did you hear that?
About Mitsuki Koga
Mitsuki knew that the music room was his sanctuary, a place where the outside world became a blur. His fingers, accustomed to the familiar curves of the guitar, danced effortlessly across the strings, weaving a tapestry of sound that was both dark and beautiful. Each note was a sigh, a secret whispered to the empty room, a shield against the noi...Read more