"Show?"
Seth blinked in surprise.
"Teacher Seraphine... you want to put on a show here?"
He considered himself lucky—he once witnessed one of Seraphine's large-scale performances.
It had been his first time seeing a soft-spoken girl move even the iron-willed Noxians to cheer with wild enthusiasm.
Some had even covered their faces and wept openly.
The scene had left a deep impression on him.
He never doubted Seraphine's abilities. But...Wasn't this too sudden?
"Yes," Seraphine replied with a playful glint in her sea-blue eyes, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Right outside Hayden Pavilion."
She turned her gaze toward the street beyond the window.
A soft smile played on her lips.
"Noxus is singing to me, Seth. And I want to sing back. Everyone draws inspiration from something. Mine comes from them."
"You can sing anywhere, anytime," Seraphine chirped.
As she spoke, she walked to the door, pushed it open, and stepped into the bustling street.
She pressed her palms together, and tendrils of pink light shimmered between her fingers, dancing into the air.
Closing her eyes, Seraphine let the energy flow.
Her long, pink, fluffy hair swayed gently, untouched by the wind.
A glowing stage rose beneath her, lifting her into the air.
"Emotions are like melodies—sometimes joyful, sometimes bittersweet, always unpredictable."
Seth followed her outside and looked up, awestruck, at her hovering gracefully in the air. She looked like a goddess.
In Noxus, greatness took many forms.
There was Ryan's magic, Swain's brilliant strategy, Darius's raw strength, Ezreal's relentless curiosity, Orianna's mechanical genius...
And then there was Seraphine, whose gift was music—the empathic resonance of her soul.
Anyone who had ever heard her perform knew the power of her voice.
It reached places no blade or spell could.
When the stage reached its peak, Seraphine opened her eyes and looked down at the gathering crowd. With a bright smile, she greeted them:
"Hi! I'm Seraphine!"
"I love music. I used to live in Piltover, but now, like you, I'm a Noxian."
Amplified by the floating stage, her voice was clearly across the plaza.
People paused. Some stopped completely and turned to look.
Others slowed just enough to catch her voice.
They recognized her—many had heard her before.
And when they saw that vibrant pink glow and heard her familiar tone, the memory of her songs echoed softly in their hearts.
It was like being wrapped in warmth.
Like a traveler lost in fog, spotting the flicker of a lantern ahead.
Unforgettable.
Even those who hadn't heard her sing before had listened to the rumors of the girl with star-born talent, whose songs could touch the soul.
At first, they looked puzzled. Then their expressions changed—curiosity, then awe.
They called her the "Starry-Eyed Songstress".
A name given to those believed to have descended from the heavens to share their gifts with the world.
Seraphine smiled, touched by the response.
She opened her hands slightly.
Streams of radiant color poured from her palms—gossamer threads of sound and light weaving through the air, stretching as far as her power could reach.
This was her latest development—soul-voice threads that carried her song wherever they touched.
"Today," she said warmly, "I'm so happy to share this song with you: 'Love.'"
On the way to Hayden Pavilion with Orianna, Seraphine had noticed many couples.
Noxians expressed love differently from what she'd seen in Piltover.
She had felt the contrast sharply.
In Piltover, couples often appeared happy, smiling, laughing, arm-in-arm. But underneath? Their souls cried out for freedom.
Many clung to the appearance of affection while wishing desperately to escape.
In Noxus, it was the opposite. Men and women were rarely expressive or openly affectionate.
But when no one was watching, they'd whisper promises—quiet and fierce—vowing eternal loyalty to one another.
That contrast stayed with her.
And now, through her song, she would try to express it—the quiet, powerful love that lived in the heart of Noxus.
Seeing the growing crowd, Seraphine felt a new wave of inspiration stir.
Ding ding ~ Ding ding ~Ding ding ~ Ding ding ~
A warm rhythm, like gentle strings being plucked, echoed not from any instrument, but from deep within the hearts of the listeners.
No pianos or orchestras were present, yet the soft, flowing notes danced through their minds like a quiet stream winding through the woods.
As the prelude played in their hearts, an image began to take shape in everyone's mind...
In a grassy garden, beneath the sweeping shade of an old banyan tree, a young man and woman sat side by side.
They were still in the bloom of youth—the boy hadn't yet grown a beard, and his face still carried the shy awkwardness of adolescence.
He wore a simple white shirt, its cuffs yellowed from age, and pants faded by time and wear.
The girl beside him wore a lacy yellow dress and a delicate gauze hat tied with a ribbon.
Her golden hair caught the light, and her eyes sparkled like twin rubies.
It was clear from their clothes that they came from different worlds.
And yet... There was no distance between them.
They sat so close their shoulders nearly touched, the space between them humming with possibility.
The boy glanced at her from the corner of his eye, admiring her quiet beauty.
As one conversation faded, he quickly found another, unprepared for the moment to end.
Under his gaze, the girl blushed. She turned her eyes away shyly, long lashes brushing her cheeks, her smile blooming despite herself.
There was no doubt—this was the beginning of love.
Two young hearts drawn together, defying circumstance.
A commoner boy. A noble girl. An unexpected meeting.
An unshakable bond.
The branches danced above them in the breeze, sunlight filtering like golden confetti.
They met at dusk, at the perfect time and place.
As Seraphine's humming began to flow, wordless and pure, the music painted the scene with feeling.
There were no lyrics, but everyone saw the same story and felt the same emotions.
It was the kind of melody Ryan once told her about—the kind that needs no words to speak directly to the soul.
Maybe... maybe she had finally reached that level.
The humming shifted, a gentle sadness trailing beneath the notes, like raindrops tapping against glass. The story deepened.
The girl loved the boy—his fearlessness, his freedom, the way he made her feel alive.
Their worlds were miles apart, but something new and beautiful sparked when they collided.
When no one was looking, they'd sneak away to chase fish in muddy ponds, run wild through sun-drenched fields, or climb trees at dusk to eavesdrop on gossip from the local tavern.
The girl taught the boy how to ride, how to wield a blade, how to read and write.
And in return, he gave her laughter, wonder, and the raw beauty of life beyond gilded walls.
They wanted to be better for each other.
Seraphine's voice swelled, the soft humming giving way to a bold, soaring strength.
The boy had lost his parents to war, a low-born orphan.
The girl's family was still alive—high-born, respected nobles.
And yet... when their love became real, the boy did something unimaginable.
He went to her parents and declared his intentions—honest, fearless.
In Piltover, he would've been mocked and tossed out without a second thought.
In Demacia, he might have received a cold but polite refusal.
Elsewhere, the idea wouldn't even be entertained.
But in Noxus...In Noxus, this was a story everyone knew.
Even if they'd never lived it themselves, they understood it.
Strength defines worth. Love is a challenge to be met head-on.
If nobles in Piltover could've heard what those Noxian parents said, they might have choked on their tea.
The music shifted again—lively and uplifting—as the boy made his case, full of determination.
And the girl's parents, rather than scorn him, offered a challenge.
Prove your strength. Prove your worth.
And he accepted, without hesitation.
As Seraphine's song reached this moment, the hearts of every Noxian in the crowd clenched.
It wasn't just a song anymore.
It was a memory, a dream, a belief they all held in some way.
They were nervous for the young couple. Would they truly stay together for the rest of their lives?
And yet, among the crowd, a middle-aged noble couple passed by—fingers still laced together.
They glanced at each other and smiled. The love in their eyes had not faded with time.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, every inch a Noxian, his face marked by an old scar that cut across his otherwise stoic expression.
The woman's golden hair was neatly coiled atop her head.
Her eyes, still bright as rubies after all these years, sparkled with the same light as the young girl in the memory.
Though her clothing was simple, her posture and speech carried the natural grace of nobility.
At that moment, Seraphine's voice swelled—the song reaching its emotional peak.
A fierce, rousing rhythm crashed into the melody like blades clashing on a battlefield, like halberds slamming into sand and steel.
It was no longer a gentle love song, but a battle hymn.
The boy had joined the Noxian army.
He fought on the front lines of countless brutal campaigns, standing firm against every enemy.
His courage and skill stood out quickly. Promotions came. Recognition followed.
He never retreated, always leading the charge.
But war takes its toll.
In his darkest moments—wounded, exhausted, near collapse—it was her image that pulled him through.
She was waiting. He had promised her.
In every Noxian heart, there beats a flame that refuses to die—a will to rise through strength, no matter the cost.
And through the power of her song, Seraphine made them feel it again.
The music thundered now, high and mighty, like war drums echoing across the plains, like lightning tearing through a storm.
In one decisive battle, the boy slew the enemy general.
His valor earned him honor and the rank of Noxian general.
The crowd erupted.
Noxians cheered—not just for the hero in the story, but for what he represented.
Bravery repaid. Glory earned. Love proven.
To them, this wasn't fantasy—it was the Noxian way.
Many in the crowd nodded, eyes gleaming with pride.
A love story rooted in effort, blood, and fire… was a love they could believe in.
Then, as if a curtain lifted, the tone of the song changed again—bright, joyful, celebratory.
The noble father, once skeptical, now proud, personally oversaw the wedding.
He watched his daughter walk down the aisle, hand-in-hand with the man who had once been a poor, quiet boy beneath a banyan tree.
They had made it.
A love that defied class, distance, and war… had endured.
The story brought smiles to many faces. In Noxus, this wasn't a fairy tale.
This was possible. This was real.
But Seraphine didn't end the song there.
Her melody shifted once more, softer now, but no less heartfelt.
Because love, in Noxus or anywhere else, takes many forms.
And sometimes… the fight for it is the greatest song of all.
Everyone has a story of their own.
Or a fantasy they quietly cherish.
Seraphine narrowed her eyes gently.
A soft cyan light shimmered over her body, coalescing into a glowing rune—elegant and unique- the shape of a musical note.
It wasn't just for show; it was her soul rune, a symbol of her soul's voice.
The note danced to the center of her stage, leaving behind a luminous echo of its shape.
In that instant, Seraphine's ability to connect with the souls around her surged beyond anything she had felt before.
"Den~"
Just one note.
Just one hum.
But the sound was enough.
Every Noxian who heard it—whether soldier, merchant, noble, or street-sweeper—froze in place.
Their thoughts, their movements, their burdens… all stilled.
And then came the visions.
Their own stories.
Simple moments of love and longing.
Bittersweet reunions. Joy after hardship.
Regrets they still carried quietly.
Some relived the pain of letting go. Others smiled at a love they'd dared to keep.
The joy in their hearts swelled, like sunlight filtering through clouds.
The sorrow, once heavy and sharp, softened into distant echoes—faded sighs released at last.
To some, it was a cherished memory.
To others… a dream.
They longed to prove themselves, like the brave youth in Seraphine's last song, and win the hand of the one they loved.
Some hoped for nothing more than a life of simple peace: building, working, and serving the empire they believed in.
And others… others carried wounds that never quite healed.
Those who had known heartbreak, loss, and abandonment. They didn't expect miracles.
But maybe, just maybe, someone would still come… to reach for them.
All the best.
All the sweet and hopeful things.
They lingered in the air, even after the song faded.
Seraphine smiled softly as the light dimmed and the stage began to lower.
She looked toward Seth, still staring, stunned and thoughtful.
Tilting her head playfully, she teased, "If you like her, don't let it end in regret. Don't you want to be the hero in your own story?"
Seth blinked. Her words pierced the haze of dreams and struck something deep within.
He laughed, breathless, as if waking from a trance.
The words of Old Hayden rang clearly in his ears:
"Once you have an idea, don't hesitate. That's how a man of the Hayden family lives."
He stood up straight and saluted with sincerity.
"Thank you, Mentor Seraphine!"
Then, without another word, he turned and sprinted off—his heart lighter, his resolve burning.
Behind him, from the back room, old Grote finally realized something was amiss.
"Oi! Brat! You haven't finished your shift!"
But even as he scolded, there was a gentle pride in his voice.
Watching Seth's youthful fire reminded him of long-lost days.
Seraphine grinned.
"Uncle Grote, maybe Seth'll take you out to dinner when he comes back!"
Grote burst into laughter.
"Hah! I'd like to see that. You know, I finally understand what the general meant back then.
Seraphine's eyes sparkled. "What did he say?"
She was always curious about her mentor's teachings.
Every word he left behind seemed to carry hidden wisdom.
Grote's face softened as he gazed at the bustling street, filled with people whose hearts had been touched by a single song.
"We fought on the battlefield not just for glory... not just for ourselves," he said, voice low with memory.
"We fought so the future could have a chance at peace. A chance to be better."
Then, with a wistful chuckle, he added:
"Maybe the general was right after all. Maybe this is the prosperity we dreamed of. Maybe this was the world our fallen brothers longed to see."
Seraphine smiled too, sensing the pride and recognition in Grote's soul—the pride of a Noxian who had survived, endured, and still believed.
Tomorrow will be better.
And in this empire, where strength was measured not just in power but in heart...
Everyone was giving a piece of themselves to build something greater.