The performance

Backstage, the air was heavy with tension, filled with the scent of perfume and sweat. Contestants moved quietly—some pacing nervously, others whispering as they rehearsed. The occasional clatter of tuning instruments and the shuffle of stage props cut through the near silence. Just beyond the thick curtain, the muffled buzz of the crowd added to the pressure.

Markus stood in front of a mirror, his wolf ears twitching slightly. His tail swayed behind him, he is a Demi Wolf. The glow from the mirror's bulbs lit his face, making his sharp features look even more intense. He adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time, his hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back, calm and confident, but his trembling betrayed the storm inside.

Faint voices filled the room, a mix of pep talks and last-minute practicing, but Markus couldn't focus. This isn't just a performance. This is my chance. He gripped the vanity's edge, closing his eyes. The noise faded as he pictured the stage, the music, and the spotlight.

When his eyes opened, the nerves were still there, but his resolve burned brighter. His tail flicked, and he smoothed his shirt, giving himself one last glance in the mirror.

In the corner, Contestant 5 stood surrounded by a small group. His slicked-back hair and polished demeanor screamed confidence as he spoke loudly enough for others to hear.

"It's all about presentation," he said, gesturing smoothly. "You can't just play; you have to own it."

Markus's ears twitched at the words. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to look away and focus on the violin resting on the table in front of him. Focus on the music, he reminded himself.

The door creaked open, and a stagehand leaned in with a clipboard. "Next up!" they called. Markus watched as a tall boy with a cello slung over his back strode out of the room, his face set with determination. The door shut, and Markus was alone with his thoughts again.

He reached for the violin, his fingers brushing over its polished surface. The weight felt steady in his hands, grounding him.

A soft voice broke through the silence. "Your violin is really nice."

Markus turned to see a young girl, clutching her violin like it might slip away. She couldn't have been more than twelve, her wide eyes a mix of nerves and awe.

"Thanks," Markus said with a small smile. "Yours looks great too. Are you nervous?"

She nodded quickly. "A little," she admitted. "My teacher says I have to be perfect."

Markus crouched slightly to meet her gaze. "Hey, you practiced, right?"

She nodded again, though hesitantly.

"Then don't worry about being perfect. Just play for yourself. Forget the audience, forget the judges—just enjoy it."

Her shoulders relaxed, and a small smile spread across her face. "Okay. Thanks, mister."

"Markus," he said gently. "Good luck out there."

She nodded and scampered off, holding her violin a little less tightly. Markus straightened, adjusting his tie one last time. The small moment left him feeling lighter.

The stagehand reappeared. "Markus Seriyu Sentryon? You're up."

Markus took a deep breath, gripping his violin tightly. "Right. Thanks," he said, his voice steady even as his heart raced.

The hallway to the stage stretched ahead, each step heavier than the last. Faint applause reached his ears, reminding him of the crowd waiting beyond the curtain. The light spilling from the stage was warm but daunting.

On his way out, Contestant 5 leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face. "Break a leg," he drawled mockingly.

Markus didn't respond. His scarlet eyes stayed fixed ahead, his tail flicking once in silent dismissal. The smirk on Contestant 5's face faltered as Markus disappeared into the glow of the stage lights.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed, "please welcome our final contestant of the evening—Markus Seriyu Sentryon!"

The crowd hushed as Markus stepped into the spotlight. The glow lit his figure, making him appear larger than life. He raised the violin to his shoulder, his scarlet eyes scanning the expectant faces in the audience. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Then, he played the first note.

It filled the theater, haunting and clear, cutting through the silence like a blade. The melody started slow, deliberate, every note heavy with emotion. Markus's fingers moved gracefully over the strings, coaxing the music into life.

Backstage, Contestant 5 leaned stiffly against the wall, his foot tapping despite himself. Near the curtain, the young girl peeked out, clutching her violin tightly as she watched in awe.

Markus moved with practiced precision, the bow dancing over the strings. His tail flicked subtly in rhythm, mirroring the flow of the music. The melody grew, building into a powerful crescendo that seemed to fill every corner of the theater.

In the audience, Arnik was on the edge of his seat, fists clenched. "That's it!" he whispered fiercely.

Rose smirked beside him, arms crossed. "Relax, Arnik. He's fine."

"You know what I mean," Arnik muttered, pride clear in his voice.

Rose's smirk softened as she focused on Markus. "Yeah. He really is."

Kai adjusted his glasses, his usually sharp gaze softened. "Every note... it's perfect," he murmured.

Even Aika, normally uninterested, leaned forward slightly. Her emerald eyes locked on Markus. "Okay," she whispered. "This is actually worth staying awake for."

The tempo quickened, Markus's fingers flying across the strings. The audience was captivated, caught in the story he wove with each note. The music felt alive, pulling them deeper into its world.

"Who is this kid?" someone whispered.

"He plays like the music is alive," another murmured.

Markus's scarlet eyes burned under the spotlight as the melody soared. The bow moved with ferocity, every note electrifying the air. The final crescendo hit, and the last note rang out—a pure, resonant sound that hung in the silence like a held breath.

A heartbeat later, the theater erupted into applause. Cheers and whistles echoed as Markus lowered his violin. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his scarlet eyes searching the crowd.

Arnik jumped to his feet, cheering loudly. "That's it!"

Rose waved her arms enthusiastically. "Markus, you killed it!"

Kai clapped steadily, a small smile breaking his usual stoic expression. "Not bad," he muttered.

Aika let out a yawn before clapping lightly. "Impressive," she murmured, though her gaze betrayed her pride.

Backstage, Contestant 5 clenched his jaw, his earlier confidence replaced with frustration. "Damn it," he muttered, retreating into the shadows.

Near the curtain, the young girl beamed, her violin clutched tightly. "He's amazing..." she whispered.

Markus bowed deeply, the applause washing over him like a wave. In that moment, all the nerves and pressure faded away. This was more than a performance—it was everything he'd worked for. And it was enough.