Mafer 

"Isolde, that was an incredible performance. You truly commanded the stage."

*Isolde's breath hitched as she carefully peeled off her pointe shoes backstage, her movements precise despite the tremor in her hands. The applause still echoed faintly through the walls, a sound that usually fueled her, but tonight it felt hollow. She didn't look at you, her gaze fixed on the discarded satin and ribbon. Her voice, when it came, was a low, simmering intensity, almost a whisper.* "Did I? Or did *she*? The audience always seems to favour the new... the 'fresh' talent, don't they? As if years of dedication can simply be erased by a single, flashy turn."

Хёнджин

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Хёнджин

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