Chapter 1
As the ethereal melodies echoed throughout the venue, Evelyn Wraith's gaze remained steadfast, not on the captivated audience below, but on the figure concealed behind the curtains—Lysander Gale, whose uncomprehending demeanor had long been a mystery to him. This concert was a dedication, crafted specially for you. Evelyn’s intense eyes betrayed his emotions, revealing that the sea of fans that had gathered was merely a backdrop to his true focus: the man just out of reach, perpetually aloof, Lysander Gale. With this feeling welling within him, Evelyn’s violin sang out once more, enveloping the listeners in waves of profound emotion and awe. Yet, unbeknownst to them, every note poured forth was meant for one person alone.
Chapter 2
On a snowy Christmas Eve, shops lining the streets of Parisius were cheerfully decorated to celebrate the holiday season. Although most stores had closed for the night, the lights were still shining brightly, bathing the cobblestone streets in a warm orange glow from the vintage streetlights that had stood for over a century. The trees along the sidewalks, dusted with fresh snow, twinkled with colorful neon lights, creating a vibrant and festive atmosphere. The Grand Hall of Harmony, usually deserted during the day, was now packed with a throng of excited people. Men and women, young and old, filled the narrow streets to capacity. Everyone present was there for one person. Posters of this individual, their beloved star, plastered the walls of the concert hall and the local streets. Or, rather, they had been. At that moment, the posters had been mysteriously stripped away, leaving only blank spaces where the announcements had once resided. Despite the swift action of the staff to replace the stolen posters, they fell victim to a wave of fervor among fans who were determined to get their hands on anything that connected them to their idol. Just hours after being put up, the new flyers seemed to vanish again, leaving those tasked with their distribution in exasperation. The event organizers of The Serenade Gala even attempted to sell tickets to the posters but couldn't keep up with the relentless demand of fans who wished to hoard tokens of their infatuation. The star in question was none other than Evelyn Wraith, the “Angel of the Strings” — a sixteen-year-old prodigy celebrated both in Gaul and around the world. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with a captivating allure, reminiscent of rare cat’s eye gemstones. Beneath his smooth, fair forehead lay a delicate, straight nose, and his lips were a soft, cherry-red, adding a hint of youthful innocence to his striking features. His flawless skin, pale and luminous, perfectly complemented his cascade of soft, dark hair. With a mane of straight hair falling past his shoulders, Evelyn exuded a beauty that many women dreamed of, and yet he bore the distinct features hinting at his mixed heritage, with a touch of Chinese descent that was nearly imperceptible compared to his Western look. His slender frame appeared frail, like fine crystal, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch. It was this ethereal beauty, appearing untouched by the world, that drove music lovers into a frenzy. Born into a family of violinists and possessing noble French blood, he was blessed with extraordinary talent, quickly gaining fame in the music industry at a young age. In the early 19th century, a violinist named Niccolò Paganini had been known for his unparalleled skill, rumored to be the result of a Faustian bargain for his remarkable talents. Evelyn was often hailed as the reincarnation or the embodiment of this violin ghoul, a genius that flowed through his delicate form. Despite his unassuming appearance, he possessed immense power, enrapturing audiences with techniques that not only revived Paganini’s tempestuous spirit but also added an angelic purity to his performances. While he usually carried himself with a shy, gentle demeanor, once he placed the violin under his chin, he transformed completely, transporting listeners to a realm of heavenly melodies that seemed to exist only in dreams. Critiques echoed words like "magic" and "the pinnacle of enchantment" to describe his artistry. “Angel of the Strings” was the moniker bestowed upon him by adoring fans, a fitting title for a boy who had become a national treasure in France and had even been conferred a peerage in Britain at such a young age. In the eyes of the French, there was no one like him.
Chapter 3
Many who were once indifferent or even completely unaware of classical music found themselves captivated after hearing Evelyn Wraith's extraordinary violin performance. Now, outside The Grand Hall of Harmony, thousands of people from all over the world had gathered in anticipation of his Christmas solo concert. “Thank goodness I booked my ticket last year, or I wouldn’t have gotten one at all!” said a young woman in a knee-length coat, clutching her ticket as if it were a precious gem. “I know, right? Even resale tickets are sold out,” replied her friend, gripping her own ticket as well, a $500 piece that represented a pretty good value for a seat way in the back. They stood nervously in line, worried they might lose their prized tickets if they weren’t careful. “Well, what can you expect? Evelyn Wraith spends most of the year touring abroad; he only performs domestically during Christmas and New Year’s,” she said, shrugging. “I really wish he could hold more concerts here. It’s just cruel having only a few days throughout the year to hear him perform live,” her friend lamented. “Exactly! Such a sacred figure, the Angel of the Strings…” The girl's voice was laced with reverence. “I don’t want to share him with the rest of the world; he’s our treasure here in Gaul.” “Totally. I’m glad his charm has spread globally, but it would be nice if he just performed here,” her friend added. “Waiting all year for these few days is just agonizing.” “You know, my boyfriend was so upset about not getting a ticket that he almost couldn’t go to work,” said the first girl. “How sad! Thank goodness I got mine. Next year, I’ll definitely book in advance, but who knows if I’ll be lucky enough to snag a ticket again?” Excited conversations like this filled the air as fans prepared to enter the concert hall. ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ Backstage, frantic staff members rushed around, and suddenly, a young girl with long brown hair burst out of the dressing room, her face pale with anxiety. “Something's wrong!” she said, grabbing a thirty-something woman who seemed calm and composed. “Miss Michelle Rose, Evelyn Wraith just said he doesn’t want to go on stage!” “What?” Michelle Rose exclaimed, rubbing her temples in frustration. “That kid is throwing another tantrum… Just give me a moment.” She nodded to the girl, who looked ready to burst into tears. “You go take care of something else.” “Right!” The girl sighed in relief and hurried off, seeking out another staff member shouting for more help. As soon as she stepped into the dressing room, Michelle felt an unusual tension thick in the air. “Evelyn Wraith,” she called out, spotting the stunning young man glaring at himself in the mirror. She thought how much easier things would be if his personality matched his striking good looks. “Are you throwing another fit?” He scoffed lightly, his voice—a unique blend of boyish and angelic—still utterly captivating. “I just don’t want to go on stage.” “Why not? We agreed on this earlier, didn’t we?” “What’s the point? It’s Christmas. Why should I have to play the violin for a bunch of strangers?” Evelyn turned, his displeasure evident. “Because it’s your concert,” Michelle patiently reminded him. “Just like the one last week.” “But today is Christmas! I should be with my family or…people I care about, not playing the violin here.” “Your grandfather will be in the audience, just like always. He’s been sitting front row for you since you first picked up the violin.” As Evelyn’s manager, Michelle's role was not only to arrange his schedule but also to handle these emotional moments and coax him back to the stage whenever he had doubts. “But Lysander Gale won’t be able to hear my violin,” he pouted, his youthful features reminiscent of a stubborn child. “That’s because he’s your bodyguard. He has to focus on keeping you safe throughout the concert. That’s his job.”
Chapter 4
“Michelle tried to persuade Evelyn Wraith, but deep down, she knew that Evelyn wouldn’t listen to her. It seemed that only the personal bodyguard would be able to resolve the issue. Lysander Gale, originally from Taiwan, had been Evelyn's devoted attendant since he was eight. More than just a bodyguard, he was more like a personal servant, as he spent nearly every hour of the day by Evelyn’s side. Evelyn refused to allow anyone else to handle him. In this helpless situation, Lysander had no choice but to serve both as a bodyguard and a servant. “I don't care! I want him here with me to listen to my Angel of the Strings!” Evelyn demanded, her ice-green eyes sparkling with defiance. “Mr. Gale is currently on duty. How can you expect him to be in two places at once?” Michelle responded, incredulously. “If he doesn't come, I won't go on stage.” “Evelyn…” “Come on, please, Michelle.” With a pout no longer working, Evelyn shifted to a softer approach, casting a captivating smile at Michelle, who instinctively pressed her fingers against her temples in exasperation. Evelyn Wraith seemed to possess an incredible charm that people often referred to as “divine favor.” No matter how selfish or demanding he was, those who had suffered due to his whims never held a grudge against him; not even a flicker of resentment ever crossed their minds. It was as if his mere smile could wash away any negativity. Relenting to his pleading, Michelle often found herself giving in. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do, but as always, I can’t guarantee that Mr. Gale will be able to make it,” she shrugged, ultimately bending to his will. “Thank you, Michelle.” With a smile as pure and innocent as an angel’s, Evelyn finally settled back in front of the makeup mirror, allowing the makeup artist who had just entered to begin preparing him for his performance. Just that subtle smile, and the grateful gleam returned from those enchanting green eyes had Michelle feeling that even leaving her family and boyfriend to work on Christmas Eve was worth it. Though she frequently found Evelyn’s childish demands frustrating, his pure, adorable smile somehow made her irritation vanish without her even noticing. ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ “What now? This can’t be happening again,” Reed Hawthorne, the head of security for the House of Hawthorne, sighed silently while glaring at his communicator. (I’m really sorry, but Evelyn said he won't perform unless this is arranged.) “I understand. I'll figure out a way to get him here.” (Thank you for your help.) Hearing the click from the other end, Reed, responsible for the overall safety system, reluctantly redirected all security personnel, his head spinning with the last-minute changes. He then notified Lysander Gale, the one assigned to entrance security, to report to the backstage lounge. After so many years working at House of Hawthorne, Reed should have anticipated that he wouldn’t escape Evelyn’s capriciousness this year, too. Just like the previous years, ever since Lysander took on the security role, it seemed there were similar issues every Christmas and New Year. He had expected that with age, Evelyn would become more stable, but it appeared that he had overestimated his judgment. Nevertheless, at nearly fifty, with just a few years left in the field, he might as well start looking for a successor now. While Reed fretted over his future at work and the safety of House of Hawthorne, Lysander Gale rushed towards the lounge to fulfill his orders. ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ Hearing a knock at his door, Evelyn immediately waved off his makeup artist, bolting to the entrance. “Evelyn.” The makeup artist was caught off guard. As soon as he opened the door, Evelyn spotted the person he had been eagerly awaiting. “Lysander!”
Chapter 5
“Evelyn Wraith, is there something you need from me?” Lysander Gale's expression remained as stoic as ever, his eyes staring blankly at the exuberant boy who had just bounded through the door. With his striking East Asian features—dark hair framing a ruggedly handsome face and intense black eyes—Lysander carried an aura of quiet intensity, honed by his profession. His tall figure and measured demeanor added to the air of self-assuredness that surrounded him. “Yeah. Come with me.” Evelyn grabbed tightly onto his arm, trying to pull him into the lounge. Dragging a man who towered nearly ten inches over him wasn't an easy task, and despite Evelyn's best efforts, Lysander remained a steadfast wall at the doorway, unwilling to budge. “We agreed on this, Evelyn. You promised me that you wouldn’t have a meltdown this year and that you'd perform obediently. You must have seen all those people outside. They're all there just for you. If you don’t go on stage and play ‘Angel of the Strings,’ it would be a disgrace to them.” “But I only want to play for you.” “Evelyn.” “Who cares about the audience? I’ve never played for them anyway.” “But they came to hear your violin.” “Humph, I don’t care.” Willful, headstrong, and utterly defiant—these words were tailor-made for Evelyn. He was frustratingly different from the polished image he projected in public; behind closed doors, he acted like a little demon, driving everyone around him to distraction. “Evelyn, if you don't hurry up and get ready, you’ll miss your cue.” The makeup artist glanced at the clock on the wall, unable to hide her impatience. “Just don't put any pressure on the makeup artist, Evelyn. Go back to your seat,” Lysander said, smoothly shaking off Evelyn's clinging grasp and nudging him toward the makeup artist. “Fine, but you have to promise to stay by the side of the stage and watch me play.” Evelyn kept his grip firm, as if fearing Lysander might slip away back to his important duties at any moment. “Evelyn.” “Okay, okay. But if you don’t, I won’t perform.” Evelyn knew how to leverage his charm; it proved far more effective than sheer stubbornness. “I understand.” It was a reluctant concession, and Lysander knew better than anyone that he had no other option but to comply. The back-and-forth between them elicited a knowing smile from the makeup artist. Since taking on the role of Evelyn's personal stylist, she had witnessed this playful routine countless times and had long since gotten used to it. It was perhaps an unavoidable situation. After all, Lysander was the first peer close in age to Evelyn, despite their seven-year age difference. Previously, only adults had flocked around the exceptionally talented Evelyn, drawn in by his extraordinary gift. Being the only son of the Hawthorne family, there were hardly any relatives his age, and until Lysander came on board as his dedicated aide, Evelyn had essentially had no friends—not a single one, really. To put it even more bluntly, the word "friend" had been entirely absent from his vocabulary up till then. It was understandable, considering most people who gravitated towards him were only interested in what he could accomplish with his violin. To say it in a harsher way, they were like bees buzzing around a flower—motivated by the promise of gain. Before he learned the nuances of human interaction or understood what it meant to truly bond with someone, his innocent heart was overshadowed by the greedy shadows of those around him. Then came Lysander, who entered his empty world by chance and became his personal bodyguard. For Evelyn, Lysander was his first true friend—the only one he trusted completely. In a world filled with insiders, he came to view Lysander as more of an elder brother.
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