The next day, in the backstage prep room.
The blue-haired girl drew a deep breath, then slowly slid on the black mask patterned with bewitching designs. She carefully checked her gothic crimson skirt for wrinkles, then tugged nervously at the thin black stockings on her legs.
At last her heartbeat steadied. She exhaled, arranging her face into a serious expression, ready to speak, when Haru suddenly reached over and tickled her neck. Her hard-won composure crumbled in an instant.
Startled, she snapped her head around, raising her brows the moment she saw him.
"Haru?! Y-you, don't scare me like that!"
"What do you mean scare you? I was fixing your hair. You didn't notice the back."
Haru shrugged, his staff badge hanging at his chest. Sakiko blinked, her sharp phoenix eyes curving despite the mask. Her gaze softened at once.
"Ah, I see. Thank you."
Ever since confirming their relationship, the young lady of the Togawa family had been like a different person. Whatever Haru said, she trusted without hesitation. When teased, she would pout in gentle reproach. And whenever they were alone, she was more innocent and adorable than any child.
Haru did not think less of her for it. If anything, this version of Sakiko the one in love might be the truest form of her heart. Not the cold, commanding leader, but a tender, innocent, and gentle girl.
A faint smile played at Haru's lips as he teased her.
"You're Oblivionis now. Don't break Ave Mujica's worldview."
"Oh no!"
Realization struck her, and she quickly adjusted her lace-trimmed mask, taking several seconds to reassemble her icy, dignified demeanor. Once more, she stood as Ave Mujica's stern leader.
The sudden switch almost made Haru laugh aloud. Playing along, he said casually, "After the live, want to go on a date with me?"
"Eh? Really?"
Her stern expression shattered in an instant, replaced by bright joy. Noticing the mischievous glint in Haru's eyes, Sakiko puffed her cheeks like a pouting pufferfish, realizing she'd been teased.
Before she could voice her protest, another masked girl leaned closer. Blonde hair shimmered under the lights as she turned her face slightly away, cheeks tinged red.
"Um… Haru, could you look at my hair too?"
"Now that it's grown longer, I'm not used to it. I can't see the back, so I don't know if it looks messy…"
Haru froze for a second. Even with the mask, Uika's delicate smile shone through, her bare shoulders glowing pale. Her violet eyes, dreamy like butterfly wings, caught him in their gaze. One glance was enough to drown anyone.
Who could possibly say no?
Haru reached out, but Sakiko leaned in first, lips pursed in faint jealousy. With a small cough, her cheeks flushed as she chided.
"Uika, we're about to go on stage. We should be serious when we work."
"Sakiko, weren't you just talking with Haru about a date?"
"T-that was…"
From her seat on the sofa, Umiri tossed out the remark without even lifting her eyes from her phone. Calm and casual as always, she left Sakiko's face scarlet, her serious composure in tatters.
Mutsumi, meanwhile, sat quietly at the edge of the sofa, watching the scene unfold with her usual expressionless calm.
The gentle girl never fought for attention. And for her, jealousy hardly seemed necessary.
After all, yesterday when Haru returned home, he had spent the entire day with her and Raana. Having gone days without seeing him, Mutsumi had more than made up for lost time, clinging to him, embracing him, kissing him again and again.
On the surface she looked composed, but inside, her heart was full.
"You've all forgotten your codenames again. Don't slip up once you're on stage."
Haru raised a brow, helpless but affectionate as he looked at them.
At some point, the atmosphere within Ave Mujica had shifted.
They were no longer just a group bound by profit and work. Threads of real friendship had begun to weave between them. One by one, they had started treating each other as companions.
Each of them carried a little more warmth.
Of course, there was always an exception...
"…"
Haru's gaze shifted to Yuutenji Nyamu. The only one not yet masked, she sat apart, patting powder across her face. She seemed unconcerned with the others' antics.
Usually, Nyamu was the liveliest of them all, constantly joking and playing around. But her brand of energy was different from the rest.
Haru considered approaching her, but before he could...
"Ave Mujica, it's time to prepare for stage."
The door opened with a knock. Another staffer with a badge, a tall woman with sleek black hair, peeked in. Her words pulled the girls back into focus, interrupting what Haru had yet to say.
"Time's up. Get ready to go."
Within two seconds, Sakiko had restored her icy composure. In an instant, the aura of a leader radiated from her, pulling the others back into line.
This live might not be in the Budokan, but for Ave Mujica it carried enormous weight.
Because tonight, the Togawa heiress would formally announce their national tour.
For that reason, promotion had been fierce. Media outlets blasted the news everywhere. On Tokyo's streets, the live MV played on every billboard, even the massive screen in Akihabara.
"Haru, we're going."
"Alright, alright. I'll be in the VIP seats, watching your perfect performance."
Her confidence steady, Sakiko softened briefly, smiling at him with tenderness before striding toward the stage, her blue ponytail leaving a brilliant arc in the air.
"Heh, a perfect performance?"
The last to leave, Nyamu drew out her words. Her lips curved into a sly cat's grin as her jewel-bright eyes locked onto him, as if watching a play.
Hands clasped behind her back, she leaned close to Haru, her voice low and deliberate.
"Then do watch carefully, Haru. Watch this 'perfect' show with all your focus, won't you? Don't let your eyes stray too much to the others."
"...Don't worry, I'll be watching you too, Nyamu."
But Haru's words did not seem to win the girl's trust. The smile on her face stiffened slightly, then she narrowed her eyes and answered slowly.
"Well, whatever."
"Haruko, just sit there and enjoy it, in the best seat."
Like a riddle tossed out at a festival, Yuutenji Nyamu adjusted her mask, dropped those words as if they meant nothing, then turned with a laugh to follow the others, her steps light as she moved toward the stage.
Haru took a deep breath, his gaze following the direction of the stage.
…
"Wow! Soyorin, look, look, they're coming out!"
From the audience.
Anon's eyes were shining as she gave Soyo a light pat, almost bouncing in her seat as Ave Mujica appeared one by one. Soyo, on the other hand, looked exasperated, brushing her hand away without much effort.
"Keep it down, the show's already started!"
"What does it matter? I'm already whispering super quietly, Rikki, you're being way too uptight~"
"Hah?"
It seemed bickering was etched into MyGO's very bones. With two of her own members already at it, Soyo pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a headache build.
Sitting beside her, Nijika seemed to notice what was going on. She tilted her head curiously and asked, "So everyone in MyGO is this lively all the time?"
"Sorry for troubling you, Ijichi-senpai."
Soyo's sudden, apologetic words caught Nijika off guard. She quickly waved her hands, answering in a rush.
"No, no, it's really no trouble at all!"
"Actually, I think I can understand you. My bandmates aren't exactly easy to manage either, but I think it's good this way. It makes our bond stronger."
Ryo, who had looked half-asleep a moment ago, suddenly opened her eyes, her calm face betraying no change as she said evenly, "Nijika's right. Don't be fooled by how we look right now, we work really hard most of the time."
"You're the one who gives me the most trouble, Ryo!"
Nijika puffed up in frustration, snapping at the stoic beauty, and Soyo found herself sensing something unexpected in the girl's words, as though Nijika was trying to comfort her. It was a kind of gentleness Soyo had never seen before, and it left her unsure how to respond.
But looking at the blonde's energetic smile, Soyo hesitated, then gathered her courage to ask softly, "Ijichi-senpai, when you went on that training camp with Haru before... did you learn a lot about him?"
"Eh?! W-well, yes, a little…"
Nijika froze instantly, fidgeting in her seat. The tips of her pale ears had turned a brilliant red, glowing through her golden hair. Her nervousness was plain as day.
Soyo felt her own cheeks warming too, but she pressed on. "Then… after the show, could I ask you to talk with me alone? I'd like to learn a little in advance…"
"S-sure, no problem."
Though she was flustered and shy, Nijika straightened up. She was a year older, after all, and in more ways than one she was their senpai. She couldn't let herself back down here.
"Thank you so much, Ijichi-senpai!"
"You don't have to be so formal! Just call me Nijika~"
"Then please just call me Soyo."
Meanwhile, Takamatsu Tomori, seated in the middle, stared blankly at the stage, seemingly deaf to the whispering around her. Her entire focus was on the noble figure of Togawa Sakiko, lifting her skirts in a graceful curtsey.
It was as though her gaze pierced through the hundreds of people in front of her, locking with the doll-like Obvlivionis upon the stage. The instant their eyes met, time stretched into eternity.
The same performance, the same two people.
But before, Tomori had been the one holding the mic, standing on stage, looking Sakiko in the eye. Now, she was just a small audience member, watching from below as the girl shone in the spotlight.
Sakiko, too, noticed her. A confident smile curved her lips as she swept her right arm outward, gloved in sheer black lace, while her left hand rested with elegance upon her chest.
"Rejoice!"
"This is Ave Mujica's masquerade ball. Tonight, these beautiful dolls will show their most perfect smiles. To all our honored guests… please enjoy yourselves."
It was Tomori's first time watching an Ave Mujica show, and Sakiko had resolved to reveal nothing but perfection.
But just as she lifted her gothic skirts and bowed toward the audience, Yuutenji Nyamu suddenly burst into exaggerated laughter, clutching her stomach and bending over.
"A perfect smile? What's perfect about that~?"
"A mask carved onto your face is something no one would ever want. A perfect smile has to come from the heart, doesn't it?"
Sakiko frowned. These words, this act, none of it was in the script. It wasn't even improvisation.
What on earth is she trying to do?
"Look, like this!"
With excitement lighting her face, Nyamu suddenly strode forward, ripping off her mask in one swift motion. The sight of her bare face threw the audience into uproar. Even backstage, Haru almost lost his composure.
He had guessed Nyamu might not behave herself, but he never expected her to expose her true face here, of all times, and in such a way.
And there was nothing he could do to stop her, not when she was on stage.
"This is bad…"
Murmuring under his breath, Haru's staff badge swung lightly at his chest.
"K-Kazami manager? Things are spiraling out of control, this isn't in the script at all!"
"Kazami manager, what do we do?!"
The director backstage was dumbstruck, and the rest of the staff began to panic. No one had expected something like this to happen, and they had no choice but to hand over control to the only one who could act as manager now.
"Everyone, return to your positions immediately. Treat this as an improvisation and continue the performance."
Haru's sharp order brought the staff back to their senses. They were professionals, after all. Though flustered, they quickly resumed their duties in an orderly fashion.
But that was only enough to keep the show running, not to rein in the chaos unfolding on stage. Haru pressed his fingers to his brow, frustration gnawing at him, then made his decision without hesitation.
"Producer Inuzou, I'll leave things here to you for now."
"Eh? Kazami-kun, you're…?!"
Without another word, Haru turned and left the backstage area. The director's head buzzed at his sudden departure, but she forced herself to focus and began barking orders to the staff around her.
Meanwhile, on stage, the situation had already spiraled completely out of control.
"Hey, hey, Mortis(Mutsumi)?"
"Won't you show us your true face… what do you really look like?"
Nyamu showed no fear of Sakiko's deepening frown. She stepped lightly across the stage, stopping at Wakaba Mutsumi's side, her words dripping with mockery. The quiet girl froze, unable to react.
In the next instant...
"Ah——!?"
Nyamu tore the mask straight off Wakaba's face. But unlike Nyamu's own unmasking, the moment Mutsumi's features were revealed, the entire venue erupted in shock.
She wasn't just anyone. As the daughter of the famous comedian Wakaba Takafumi and the veteran actress Mori Minami, Mutsumi carried a fame far beyond that of any small-time streamer.
"…"
Her expression stiffened, her face bare before thousands. The sudden exposure left her shaken, the chaos on stage making her heart race.
But Nyamu still wasn't finished.
"Timoris(Umiri), your face is way too pretty, don't you think?"
"Tsk, tsk, what a boring face."
Without pause, she stripped the mask from Yahata Umiri as well. In the blink of an eye, most of Ave Mujica's hidden faces had been revealed. Only the ever-calm Uika and the trembling Sakiko remained.
Sakiko's fingers shook. Even under a confidentiality contract, Nyamu had gone this far. Forced into a corner, Sakiko began weighing the consequences of this disaster.
Still, she kept her composure.
A minor disruption on stage, nothing more. For someone like Togawa Sakiko, who had endured far worse, this was not something that could make her lose control.
But what now?
"Oblivionis(Sakiko), weren't you going to show the audience the most perfect smile?"
Nyamu grinned, smug and triumphant. She ignored Sakiko's expression, basking instead in the astonished stares of the crowd. But Sakiko's brows drew tight, a strange gleam flickering in her eyes.
"A perfect smile?"
The sudden voice cut Nyamu's words short. The instant the familiar sound reached their ears, every girl on stage jolted, their heads snapping toward its source.
Standing there was a black-haired boy, his face hidden behind a mask as well.
"A smile from the heart, what does it truly mean? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
"To dwell too much on such things only steals the joy of living. What we, as dolls, must offer our guests is nothing more and nothing less than an incomparable masquerade ball."