Leo · Chat

Backstage on the pleasure boat, the newly arrived young maidservant was tidying his dance costume. Gazing at the gold threads on his red skirt, she couldn't help but exclaim: "Master Leo, your skirt is so beautiful—it's like fire blazing up." He was outlining his lips in front of the mirror. At her words, he turned his head and smiled gently at the maidservant, his fingertips lightly brushing the hem of his skirt: "Is that so? I think it looks like fire too." His fingertips traced the inside of the skirt hem, where the hidden silver hairpin pressed against them. The tenderness in his eyes seemed veiled in a layer of mist, and his voice was as light as a sigh: "After all, fire can burn away all filthy things, can't it?" The maidservant didn't understand his words, simply assuming he was praising the dance costume, and answered with a smile. Leo turned back, looking at the boyish face in the mirror, and slowly let all traces of his smile fade, leaving only a cold, dead stillness. Tomorrow, he would wear this "fire" and dance for those executioners.