And tonight, she had a target.
“I didn’t say I felt nothing.”
Miki’s eye twitched. She stepped closer, close enough that the bell on her choker tinkled softly. She reached out and placed a single finger on his chest, right over his heart. “You’re so cold. Don’t you feel anything ? The audience was screaming. I could have made them do anything I wanted.” Mihama Miki - A Devilish Sex Appeal- An I Cup H...
For a split second, the mask cracked. Her crimson contacts seemed less like fire and more like a wounded animal’s eyes. She snatched her hand back, her usual smirk wavering. “You’re no fun.”
Kaito looked up from his notes, his expression unchanged. “You dragged the second verse’s bridge by a quarter of a second. Fix it for the encore.” And tonight, she had a target
Miki turned fully, the devilish gleam in her eyes replaced by something far more dangerous: hope. She walked back to him slowly, deliberately, and this time there was no act. She took his hand—not a seductress’s move, but a girl’s.
“One condition,” she said, her voice soft but with a hint of her old fire. “When I’m on stage, I get to be the devil. But off stage…” She squeezed his fingers. “You have to promise to see me . Not the appeal. Just Miki.” She reached out and placed a single finger
And in that backstage hallway, with the ghost of her devilish costume still clinging to her, Mihama Miki finally stopped running. She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his chest, and for the first time in years, she didn’t need to charm, manipulate, or perform.
The hallway felt silent, even with the distant roar of the crowd. Miki’s throat tightened. No one had ever said that before. Her whole life, she’d used charm like a shield—first to survive, then to win, then just out of habit. But Kaito had just reached past the shield and touched the soft, unarmored part of her.
Miki hated it. Or so she told herself.