A Single Thread

She dangled from the ceiling like a chandelier. 
     Her chest did not rise. 
     Her eyes didn't blink.
     Her thoughts slowed.
     The door to her room slammed open as Mukashi raced in. His perfectly coiffed gray hair barely moved as he expertly pulled out a pocketknife, stood on the chair she'd stepped off of, and cut the rope with a single strong motion of his hands. 
     Before Miya hit the ground, he wrapped his arms around her and caught her, holding her close to his chest firmly. He could feel that she was gasping for breath. He took her to her bed in the corner of the room and set her down gently on top of the covers. Her breathing began to normalize, but only slightly. 
     He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number of her private doctor without a moment's hesitation. As he did, his gray eyes scanned over her body, looking for any signs of a struggle. He checked under her outfit, but there wasn't anything to suggest that someone had forced her into the position he'd found her in.
     The doctor answered Mukashi's call.
     "She almost died. I need you here within the next twenty minutes."
     Mukashi listened to the doctor's response thoughtfully, then nodded.
     "I understand. What should I do to help with her recovery?"
     Mukashi nodded seriously as the doctor walked him through the steps of looking for stroke symptoms in Miya. After ten minutes of painstakingly making sure that she was at least breathing normally, Mukashi was satisfied that she would be able to survive until the doctor arrived. He kept the doctor on the line, in case something else happened, then began looking through her room for any other clues he'd missed during his first response to her situation.
     His attention was caught by a single white sheet of paper that was on the bedside table. He exhaled through his pointed nose sharply and picked up the paper with his left hand. Once he held it in his grasp, he noticed something move in the corner of his vision. His head swiveled immediately to look back at Miya.
     Her long dyed blue hair fell in waves around her head on the pillow, framing her soft features that the public had never actually seen. Her lightly amber eyes were barely opened, and her small round nose was hardly moving with each breath she took. Her thin, perfectly glossy lips trembled slightly as she looked up at him. 
     The motion that had caught his eye was that of her hand moving towards his leg. Her small, soft hand was gently brushing against the fabric of his black pantleg. 
     He made eye contact with her.
     Her normally captivating voice was weak.
     "P-please, Mukashi... D-don't read that." She said quietly.
     "I'm your manager. This is in the best interest for your continuing health and career." He said briskly as he unfolded the paper.
     Miya's grip tightened on his pantleg, but Mukashi didn't stop. His eyes roamed over the words that were scrawled in Miya's signature blue ink. Like every piece of writing she created, the letter "M" was ornate and stood out marvelously from the rest of her print; however, these "M's" were shaky and unsure of themselves. 
     "Miracle Miya here everybody! I'm so sorry, but I won't be able to make it to the next show. A lot of things have happened recently, and I just need to take a little break.
     I don't want to do this anymore. 
     I lost my passion for this after the first year. 
     I lost my soul after the second year.
     I'll lose my life this year. Goodbye."
     Mukashi looked at the note calmly as his mind tried to think of what he could do with it.
     "I-I'm sorry Mukashi. I didn't... I didn't mean it." She said, her voice still weak.
     He looked down at her as she laid on the bed, and she thought she could see his eyes soften for a tiny, fleeting moment. 
     "It's fine if you did." He said calmly.
     Miya's eyes fluttered. 
     "I-it is?" She asked hesitantly.
     He nodded and folded the note up, then put it back in his pocket. Once he'd done that, he reached down onto the floor of her room and picked up the pocketknife that he'd used to cut her free earlier. He put it in his pocket next to the note, then looked back at her.
     She looked at him as he stood over her in the darkness of her room, the only light coming from the hallway that passed by it. It barely silhouetted him, giving his pale skin an almost ethereal quality. Her breathing that had started to normalize hitched slightly as she looked at him.
     "Yes. It humanizes you." 
     Miya didn't know how to react to that. Mukashi didn't stop talking, his tone completely even.
     "We'll 'accidentally' let the press find it. It'll stir up controversy, but it'll be manageable and boost your popularity." His voice was reserved. "Nothing like this has happened within the last ten years of K-Pop idols. This is a sure ticket to get into the upper echelons of K-Pop society." He didn't smile at her, but he made perfect eye contact with her once again. "Acceptable work."
     Miya quieted as Mukashi walked over to the light switch of her room and turned it on, chasing away the darkness. Once he did, he took the chair that she had stepped off of, pulled it next to her bed, and sat down on it. His gaze was fixed on her.
     "M-Mukashi... I..." Her voice trembled and her eyes began filling with tears. "I don't want to... to keep going." She slowly raised her right hand to her face and wiped the tears off her eyes, but they were immediately replaced. 
     Mukashi looked at Miya as she laid in the bed. She was shaking and her breaths were rattling in her chest. He sighed and pressed his lips together, then looked away briefly. 
     "Would you want to receive therapy?" He asked clinically.
     Miya's mind slowly began to pick up speed as she thought about the implications of therapy. 
     "It would probably help your career as well if you were seen receiving it. If we revealed the note and then took you to therapy, it would raise your popularity immensely." His voice was calm and collected.
     "N-no, not therapy." She said quickly. 
     Mukashi nodded and looked back at her.
     "What about antidepressants?" He asked professionally.
     Miya's mind went faster as she thought about what that would imply.
     "No, please. Not... not those."
     Mukashi didn't react visibly.
     "Do you have any ideas about what would help stabilize your condition?" He asked, sounding disinterested. "If you don't, then I will select an option for you."
     Miya's mind raced. 
     Her heart pounded in her chest.
     "L-letters." She said, not really thinking about it. "I... I want to read some of my fan letters."
     Mukashi's brow furrowed.
     "Those are written by people who don't know you."
     "I-I know." She muttered, but she spoke again before Mukashi could say anything else. "But maybe they'll... rekindle my passion."
     Mukashi looked considerate for a few moments, then nodded.
     "That's a plausible idea. However, you have a very tight schedule. This incident alone has eaten up a lot of time." He said, his voice even and measured. "If you really want to read those letters, I could clear out one of your fan meetups next Thursday and you could use that hour to read them." 
     His eyes widened in a motion that would have been imperceptible to anyone other than Miya.
     "Furthermore, you could even write a response to one of them. Something like that would be lucrative for you." He blinked rapidly. "You've had many great ideas today. I'm pleased."
     He didn't smile.
     "H-how many letters do you think I could read?" She asked, her voice clinging desperately to the single thread of hope he'd provided her with the letters.
     Mukashi stood up as the doctor came into the room. The doctor said some words to him and immediately began examining Miya. She feared that Mukashi would leave without an answer, but just as he made it to the doorway of her room, he stopped and turned his head over his shoulder to look at her with one eye; his side profile was elegant and efficient as he spoke to her.
     "In response to your question: you would be able to read five letters." He said coldly. 
     Miya nodded and watched as Mukashi left the room without another word.
     Five letters; five chances. 
     Five chances to find out if she still had her soul.