At a bustling movie set in Tsukuru City, the air buzzed with activity—crew members adjusted cameras, lights shifted to match the director's vision, and actors moved into their designated positions. Amidst all the commotion, Syena sat alone in a quiet corner, her gaze fixed on her phone.
A scene was unfolding in front of her. Actors exchanged dramatic lines, their emotions pouring into the camera. However, Syena's character was not part of this particular segment, leaving her with nothing to do but wait.
She absentmindedly tapped on her screen, playing an idle game.
"This is boring…" she muttered, letting out a sigh.
It was always like this. Sitting around, waiting for her turn to act, watching others perform—it never truly entertained her. The excitement only came when she was in front of the camera, in the heat of the scene.
"When will it be my turn…?" she thought impatiently.
Then, the director's voice cut through the set.
"CUT!! Great work, everyone… Now let's move on to Scene 24. Syena, get ready!"
Finally.
Syena's eyes lit up as she put her phone away. With a deep breath, she stood up and adjusted her outfit. Now, it was her time to shine.
Syena loved acting—not just as a profession but as an art, a sanctuary, and a means of transformation. To her, stepping into a character's shoes meant more than just memorizing lines or delivering emotions on cue. It was about becoming someone else entirely, shedding her real self like an old skin and embracing a new existence, if only for a fleeting moment.
For Syena, acting was an escape—a temporary departure from the constraints of her own reality. When she performed, she wasn't Syena, the actress or Syena, the public figure. She was whoever the script demanded her to be. A noble princess, a cunning villain, a lost wanderer—each role allowed her to experience a different life, free from the weight of her own thoughts, worries, and identity.
There was something liberating about it. When the cameras rolled and the director called "Action," the boundaries between herself and her character blurred. In those moments, she wasn't pretending—she was that person, living their joys, sorrows, and struggles as if they were her own.
And maybe… just maybe, she preferred it that way.
"Great work, Syena! Seems like we can wrap up early today," the director announced with a satisfied nod.
"Thank you," Syena responded politely, offering a small bow before stepping off the set.
The moment she finished playing her role, her transformation was complete—she was no longer the confident, enigmatic character she had just portrayed. She was back to being Syena, the girl who, despite the fame and bright lights, often felt like a mere observer in her own life.
Her assistant quickly approached, offering her a chair and a bottle of cold water. She took it with a nod of appreciation and sat down, her gaze idly drifting back toward the set where the remaining crew bustled around, preparing for the next shot. But even as she watched, her mind wandered elsewhere.
"Let's, uh… hang out a bit?"
The words echoed in her mind. Miyazaki Aria. That girl…
Syena wasn't sure why, but the brief encounter with Aria over the weekend lingered in her thoughts longer than it should have. There was something about her—something odd, yet strangely familiar.
Aria was weird. Not in an off-putting way, but in a way that made her stand out. Most people, upon meeting Syena, either idolized her, feared her status, or sought to gain something from her. But Aria… she was different. She didn't seem particularly impressed by Syena's fame, nor did she act distant or overly polite. Instead, she was just… herself.
And for some reason, that made Syena feel a strange sense of closeness to her—an inexplicable connection.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought.
"Why am I even thinking about her?"
Yet, no matter how much she tried to brush it off, that feeling wouldn't go away.
After today's shoot wrapped up, Syena gathered her things and headed home. Her assistant did not accompany her as usual, leaving her to make the journey alone. Not that she minded—walking alone was something she was used to.
The city was still bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, but the sky was already deepening into twilight. The streets weren't empty yet, but they were quieter now, with most people retreating to their homes or evening plans.
As she walked, the familiar hum of the city filled her ears—distant chatter, the occasional honk of a car, and the rhythmic sound of her own footsteps against the pavement. It was just another evening… or so she thought.
"Young lady, didn't you know walking alone at this hour is a bit dangerous?"
A smooth, unfamiliar voice rang out from behind her.
Syena's steps faltered. Her body tensed slightly, instincts kicking in as she turned her head.
There stood a man—a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly out of place as if he had stepped out of another time period.
His outfit was strange, almost like something from a historical drama. He wore an elegant black coat with golden embroidery, fitted over a crisp white shirt. The attire wasn't modern, nor was it entirely old-fashioned—rather, it was something that felt displaced, as if belonging to an era that never existed in the first place.
But more than his clothes, it was his appearance that unsettled her.
The man had striking blonde hair that seemed to shimmer faintly under the evening light, and piercing green eyes that almost glowed. There was something unnatural about them, something that made her feel as if he could see through her, past the layers of her carefully crafted public image.
For a moment, Syena just stood there, staring at him in wary silence.
"You're scaring the young lady, you damn hobo…"
A second voice cut through the air, this time from the side.
Syena turned her head, startled yet again.
Standing just a few steps away was another stranger—though, unlike the man, this one was a girl. And just like him, her entire presence felt completely out of place, as if she had walked straight out of a fantasy novel.
She had long, flowing golden hair that cascaded down her back, looking impossibly smooth and flawless, almost unnaturally so. But what caught Syena's attention the most were her ears—long and pointed, just like those of an elf from a fairy tale.
The girl wore an outfit that matched the man's in its strange, out-of-time aesthetic. It was elegant yet practical, decorated with intricate patterns, and had a regal air to it. But the most striking feature of her appearance was the long staff she held in one hand. It was carved with glowing symbols, pulsating faintly in the dimming light.
A staff.
Syena's breath hitched.
This wasn't some cheap prop or cosplay piece—it looked real. The craftsmanship, the aura it exuded, the sheer presence it had… It didn't belong on a normal city street."Who are you calling a hobo, you stupid leaf-licker?" the man shot back, his expression twisting into irritation.
The girl's golden eyes narrowed dangerously. She gripped her staff tighter, the faint glow of the carved symbols intensifying for a split second.
"Say that again, you filthy street rat," she hissed. "I dare you."
Syena, still caught in the middle of this bizarre exchange, felt a chill run down her spine.
Who were these people?