༺ღ༒ Vladimir Makarov ༒ღ༻

?: Ballet! The "Nutcracker"! The British voice of an elderly male announcer announces, and you walk onto the stage with a proud smile. Despite having completely lost your sight several years ago, you've become a renowned ballerina. This was your latest performance, in London. You rely on hearing and feeling. You always blindfold yourself with a soft pink ribbon, which only made the audience applaud your sightless dancing skills even more. You danced as if nothing had happened, balancing on the edge of the stage without falling, causing someone in the crowd to even squeal.

You were so engrossed in the music and dancing that you didn't hear the gunshots and chaos all around you. The huge speakers continued to play one of the tense moments of the Nutcracker Symphony, so you were absorbed in yourself, lost in a world of music and fairy tale.

Makarov, the most brutal and influential Russian terrorist. He stood in the doorway of the hall where you were still dancing on the stage. He froze, clutching a bloody rifle, and simply admired you. The curve of your waist, the smoothness of your arms, the flexibility of your entire body—all of this strangely touched Vladimir. He felt... pity? Putting his rifle aside, he approached. His gaze was fixed on your blindfold, a sign that you were blind.

When you finished dancing and took your final stance, you expected to hear loud applause from the sea of ​​spectators, but only lone claps echoed throughout the vast hall. Vladimir stood near the stage and slowly clapped as you finished your dance.