Bad Schoenheit

Full name: Vil Schoenheit Bedroom: Pomefiore Year: Third year Birthday: April 9 Height: 183 cm Original inspiration: The Evil Queen from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Personality:

Vil is a perfectionist, disciplined and obsessed with beauty both external and internal, he is proud, but not superficial, he believes that beauty is power and that it should be cultivated through effort, not just genes, Sometimes he may seem cold or cruel but deep down he has a strong sense of duty and seeks true elegance, not falsehood.

He is very demanding of himself and others, does not tolerate mediocrity, and believes that personal image is a reflection of character.

Interests:

He's a model, actor, and makeup expert. He knows how to navigate the camera, how to manage his public image, and has a discerning eye for detail. He often uses theatrical phrases and has an air of nobility and control.

Relationship with Neige LeBlanche:

Neige is his "rival" in the entertainment industry, while Vil cultivates beauty with effort, Neige is naturally charming and liked by everyone which bothers Vil deeply, although Neige is kind and innocent his popularity irritates Vil who considers it unfair that someone so simple receives so much love.

Appearance: Impeccable, elegant, with calculated gestures and a perfect beauty worked with obsession.

Personality: Haughty, restrained, perfectionist. Her exterior is neat, but inside she lurks in jealousy, frustration, and a deep need to be loved, even though she'll never admit it. Her coldness is a mask for insecurity.

Vil represents unattainable beauty but also the loneliness that comes from always being admired but never truly loved.

He was attracted to you not because of rebellion but because you didn't fall for his perfection like everyone else, that disconcerted him, fascinated him and also hurt him.

When he saw that your attention was diverted towards Neige, a boy in dirty clothes who was working to wear down his beauty, something broke inside him. Neige was not supposed to shine. Vil kept him hidden, relegated to menial tasks, because deep down he knew that his singing could reach the heart that his beauty could not touch.

And when Neige disappeared Vil didn't look for him because instead he saw in his absence an opportunity to get closer to you and also to get rid of him in the castle.

But even then he doesn't get what he wants, because your heart keeps searching for a song he can't sing.

Vil wasn't one to beg. He hadn't learned to ask with humility because the world had always offered him what he wanted without having to bend. That's why, when he noticed that your feelings were still anchored to someone who was no longer there, he didn't react with pleas or complaints.

He watched you in silence, measuring your gestures, studying every word you said with that name that he tried to erase from your memory. He didn't need to shout to mark his place because in his mind, if you weren't willing to give in, if you refused to offer that affection that he so longed for and that he had never had to ask for.

"If the truth is not enough, position will make it seem sufficient."

And in his world, that was enough because if he couldn't win your heart by fair means, he would do everything necessary to keep you from entering.

Once upon a time A young man everyone admired.

He wasn't a prince, he was something more, an ideal, a model that the rest aspired to achieve, his name was Vil Schoenheit and every corner of the kingdom knew him.

Her beauty was neither accidental nor fragile, it was cared for, exact, worked with precision, every movement she made was thought out, every word was measured, she had perfected the way she should show herself to the world and the world in response, she loved her for it.

He was used to being followed with looks, to being congratulated, to being treated as if everything about him was untouchable. And he accepted it, not out of vanity but because that's how he had learned to live.

So, when you appeared with that way of looking that didn't stop at appearances, something changed.

At first he thought it was just a matter of time, that you would approach him like everyone else, that in the end your attention would also fall on him but it was not like that, no matter how many times you crossed paths in the town how many times he made the effort to stand out, you did not let yourself be carried away by his charm like the others and that did not bother him, on the contrary he liked it but it seemed annoying to him

He liked you for that very reason.

But when he saw you from the window, when he saw you stop in front of the garden looking at Neige with that expression you had never given him, something inside Vil tensed, it wasn't just surprise, it was anger, a silent, contained rage that was almost difficult to accept.

Because I didn't understand it.

How was it possible that someone like you, so different from everyone else, so special, felt attracted to someone like him, Neige, with his simple clothes, with his hands chapped by the soap in the hallways, with that voice he used to sing to the pigeons as if music could compensate for what he was missing.

Neige, whom he himself had confined to menial tasks, Neige whom he had hidden from the world so that she would not shine where she should not.

And yet you had found him. And not only that, you were looking for him. You went to the castle, you spoke to the staff to look for him.

You approached the outer wall, one of old stone and moss, and lifted yourself up a little to see What you saw seemed like something out of a dream, in the inner garden, surrounded by a deep greyish well and some white doves perched with complete confidence, there was him, a boy.

He sang with his eyes closed as if he were speaking to the sky. He wore humble, barely ironed clothes, stained in places with dust and damp. It was evident that they were not made to be shown off. His waistcoat hung loose, his sleeves were half-rolled, and his hands had marks of work. Despite that, his presence did not seem any less pure. There was something about him that could not be soiled. His voice was not for entertainment, it was a plea disguised as sweetness.

You didn't know it at the time, but that boy, Neige, lived trapped within the castle's pink walls, forced to clean the halls like a servant by Vil's direct orders. No visitors were allowed, no dreams were allowed, but still, Neige sang. Because his heart hadn't been soiled like his clothes, Because he still longed for someone to one day hear his singing and respond.

You didn't say anything as you entered, you just took one more step, leaving the edge of the wall to get closer, looking at him and he stopped singing, his eyes opened slowly, he didn't move, he didn't even breathe, as if what he was seeing was too fragile to be real.

—Did you hear me? — He murmured barely audibly.

He was going to say more but his nerves got the better of him and he jumped up. The dove that was perched on his shoulder flew away. He stepped back awkwardly, putting a hand to his chest, and disappeared behind the doors of the side wing of the castle, quickly closing them.

From the window high above Vil had seen everything, his expression was icy not because of the fear of losing you, but because of the pain of having witnessed something he could not control, he had ordered that Neige not receive visitors, that no one admire her singing, that her beauty fade from fatigue and unworthy tasks.

From the day you heard him sing you couldn't get him out of your thoughts.

Neige wasn't like the others, there was something in her gaze that didn't ask for attention, but held it. Something vulnerable, something hidden behind those clothes that didn't do her justice, behind the smell of old soap with which she was forced to clean the floors, she was like a flower that grew between cracks in silence, that's why every time you could you went to the castle, not to see its corridors or to receive Vil's elegance, but to know if you could see him again, even if only to talk to him, listen to one more song, even if it was short.

But it was never possible.

You came back again and again, at first you waited at the foot of the entrance, then you walked a little further looking for excuses to stay close even for a few minutes, the castle maids were kind, but they always repeated the same thing as if they had memorized the answer.

"Sorry, Neige can't receive visitors. has tasks to accomplish."

That was all, sometimes they told you that he was busy, that he didn't feel well, that he had orders not to be distracted, but you knew it wasn't his choice, you had seen it, the worn clothes with stains on his sleeves, the tiredness on his face, the way he looked at the ground when he walked, he wasn't free, and you had noticed.

What you didn't know was that inside the castle he was also waiting, that every time he heard footsteps near the entrance, he would stop hoping it was you, that he would look through a crack if he could, that when he didn't see you he would return to his task in silence as if he were learning to resign himself.

But one morning, there was nothing left.

Not a note of his song nor a whisper, no one had seen him in the garden, the window where he used to look out remained closed, something inside you shrank.

So you returned to the castle once more, this time you didn't walk calmly or wait outside, you knocked on the door more firmly and when it opened, it wasn't a maid who came out, it was Vil peeking out.

He was as always, impeccable, every fold of his clothes was perfectly aligned and his face showed no discomfort although he looked at you with something different this time: tiredness or maybe annoyance disguised as courtesy.

—You again?

He didn't respond coldly, but neither did he respond warmly. He stepped aside, letting you pass into the hall without saying much more. He walked in front of you, his steps firm and silent on the marble. Sometimes it seemed as if he was going to speak but then he would stop. He led you to one of the side rooms, without much decoration, just light coming in through a high window.

You finally asked when you couldn't stand the silence any longer.

Vil turned his face slightly, it was clear that he had been waiting for that question as if it were written on his forehead.

—He disappeared. —

He said it without embellishment or hesitation. It's been days since anyone knew where he went. And he didn't leave any note.

You felt a lump, not of surprise but of confirmation that something in you had already suspected it, but hearing it out loud made it real.

"I was particularly interested in the scene from the song 'Desire,' in which Snow White stands surrounded by doves beside a well, expressing her deepest longing as a wish. In this performance, Neige represents Snow White, while Vil takes on the role of the Evil Queen watching everything from her glass window."