Heavy clouds roiled over Haicheng as monsoon rains lashed the villa's stone terraces. Zora Su stood alone in the Horizon Theater's rehearsal room, the air thick with humidity. Sheet music lay scattered across the piano bench as she practiced the final scene of “Horizon"—a duet symbolizing rebirth. Yet her mind was elsewhere, haunted by memories of Sebastian's sacrifices: the night he froze beside her cryo‑pod, the courtroom when he shielded her with his own reputation, the gallery where he bore the weight of her past so she could reclaim her future.
A thunderclap rattled the windows. Zora paused, fingers hovering above the keys. Her heart tightened. Outside, wind rattled the panes; lights flickered. The theater's large glass doors creaked under the storm's assault. She set the sheet music
