Nocturnal Symphony (English Ver)

The smell of incense and melted candle wax in the corner of the hall felt more like a funeral than a performance to Soren Mikhail Valerius. Under the harsh spotlight stripping away his dignity, Soren sat frozen in front of thousands of empty seats that judged him like ghosts. His fingers trembled above the cold black Steinway piano; his world had been silent ever since the night he got trapped inside this golden cage.

"You missed a beat, Soren."

The voice was deep, heavy with absolute authority. Alistair Vance Thorne stepped out of the darkness, the sound of his shoes echoing like a countdown to an execution. Without his usual formal suit, his rolled-up black sleeves exposed tattoos curling down to the back of his hands-hands that now rested on the piano like a warning.

"I don't need your apology. I need your music," Alistair whispered as he leaned closer, the scent of expensive cologne mixed with gunpowder brushing against Soren's skin. His hand wrapped around Soren's neck, pressing lightly against his racing pulse. "Music is the only reason I let you live after you tried to run away. If these fingers can't create something beautiful, maybe I should break them one by one so you remember how to beg."

Soren let out a shaky sob, tears staining the clean white piano keys. Beneath Alistair's shadow, he was no longer human; he was just another instrument waiting to be played until it shattered. Breathing unevenly, with his soul already falling apart, Soren finally pressed down on the sharp minor notes-a symphony written with his own blood to satisfy the devil who kept him captive.