The gentle melody shifts into a variation. What future is foretold by its rapidly changing rhythm? In this game, who will lose their heart, and who will win someone else’s?
He stood high above the world, beloved by millions, while she gazed at him as if he were a star. Close enough to reach, yet truly beyond her grasp.
She would not be a contract that could be torn up and discarded. She could lift him to those heights, or destroy him with her own hands.
Who holds the reins in this game, this variation that is about to begin?
