Enter Kai Virell

The doors to the audition suite opened not with a creak, but a rising harmony that slid through the air like breath against skin. Ren’s pulse thudded in time with the sound. Inside, the light dimmed, spotlights shifting toward the center of a sleek platform. At its heart stood a lone figure.
Kai Virell.
His silhouette was razor-sharp, wrapped in fitted silver and obsidian fabrics that shimmered like cosmic dust. Tall, poised, and infuriatingly perfect, Kai didn't look up when Ren entered. He simply adjusted a set of sleek in-ear monitors and flicked his fingers toward the control panel.
“Begin.”
Ren blinked. “Wait. What am I—”
Kai’s voice cut through the silence. “Sing. Or leave.”
It wasn’t the welcome Ren expected.
Still dazed from the AI’s analysis, Ren stepped forward. The music began—a haunting instrumental, strangely familiar. His body tingled. That lullaby. It was almost… his.
Ren opened his mouth and began to sing.
The moment his voice slipped into the air, Kai's head snapped up. The motion was subtle, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. A chord trembled in the room, more felt than heard.
Ren finished the verse, breathless.
Silence.
Then Kai approached him—slow, deliberate. “Where did you learn that melody?”
Ren frowned. “I… wrote it.”
Kai stared. “Impossible. I heard it as a child. In dreams.”
A shiver danced down Ren’s spine.
Kai stepped closer, fingers brushing Ren’s throat. “Your voice isn’t trained… but it’s dangerously evocative.”
Ren trembled under his gaze.
“Strip.”
Ren’s breath caught. “What? Again?”
Kai arched an eyebrow. “You want to compete in Stellaris? The body is part of the instrument. Or are you afraid?”
“No,” Ren whispered. “I’m just not used to…”
Kai’s voice dropped. “Intimacy?”
Ren nodded, cheeks burning.
Kai’s hand cupped his jaw, his thumb ghosting over Ren’s lower lip. “Get used to it.”
With shaking hands, Ren undressed, baring skin flushed with nerves. Kai circled him, analytical eyes burning trails across Ren’s chest, waist, hips.
He stopped behind Ren, lips brushing his ear. “Your voice makes my pulse race. I want to feel if your body matches the sound.”
Kai’s hands pressed to Ren’s waist as his mouth skimmed Ren’s neck. Sparks ignited. Ren gasped, head tipping back.
Kai bit—soft, teasing. “You hum that lullaby like it’s etched into your soul.”
“It is,” Ren whispered. “It’s all I have left of her.”
Kai paused. Something flickered in his eyes—grief? Recognition?
And then, he kissed Ren.
It wasn’t gentle. It was consuming—like Kai was searching for something inside Ren’s mouth, something he’d lost long ago.
Their bodies collided, heat rising. Kai’s fingers tangled in Ren’s hair, pulling him closer until they sank to the padded studio floor. The music continued to play, weaving around their moans, creating a score of aching want.
Kai’s lips moved lower, tracing the curve of Ren’s collarbone, the dip of his chest. Ren arched into him, surrendering to the rhythm, the fire, the music.
When Kai finally pulled back, he whispered, “I don’t know who you really are, Ren Arakawa… but your voice—it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to lose myself in.”
And Ren, still trembling, knew this wasn’t just attraction.
It was the start of something that would change everything.