The University of Uriel’s annual festival, themed Centuries Back We United, transformed the campus into a vibrant showcase of cultural traditions. Students donned period clothing inspired by various nations, including flowing silk robes, embroidered coats, beaded garments, and tropical prints paired with floral garlands. Ornate stalls displayed intricate designs, featuring wooden carvings, paper screens, gilded accents, and ruffled fabrics, each reflecting the elegance of centuries past.
Amid the grandeur, the simplest stall was bustling with students from different departments—a modest setup created by first-year HRM students, inspired by a traditional village scene. It featured a thatched roof, woven mats, bamboo accents, and rustic wooden benches. The air was filled with the enticing aroma of cassava delicacies, including sweet cassava cakes topped with caramelized coconut cream, warm steamed cassava cake and refreshing coconut water.
Despite its humble appearance, the stall became the busiest spot at the festival, thanks to a clever post from Blair’s newly created social media account. The post, captioned “Teatime with Blair Wilson—and she’ll sing good for you!”, quickly went viral across campus.
Students flocked to the stall, interpreting the word “sing” as a hint that Blair might spill some long-awaited truths, given her infamous reputation for speaking her mind without a filter. Many believed this was their opportunity to finally uncover what really happened to the former Wilson Group princess—the events leading to her fall from grace, the persistent rumors about her giving birth, and, most intriguingly, the nature of her relationship with Ezra Taylor, including whether the rumors of their past engagement were true.
However, their lively chatter faded, and all eyes turned to the star of the event. Clad in a traditional dress with puffed sleeves embroidered with delicate floral patterns, her finely woven skirt swayed with each step, gently brushing the ground. She moved with a calm, unhurried grace; her posture was upright and fluid, exuding a quiet confidence that captivated everyone’s attention. Each step she took seemed deliberate, as if she belonged to another era, and the crowd unconsciously parted to let her pass, mesmerized by her beauty.
Gasps rippled through the crowd like wildfire as she approached the piano and gracefully lowered herself onto the wooden bench. Her skirt fanned out around her, the luxurious fabric catching the light as she adjusted her position. With calm precision, she lifted her hands and pressed a few keys, the soft, resonant notes shattering the hush that had enveloped the crowd.
“Is that Blair Wilson?” someone inquired, their disbelief nearly louder than the question itself.
“She can play the piano?” another murmured. “I thought she only knew how to cause a scene.”
“No one ever said she could sing—or play an instrument,” a voice interjected, laced with a blend of awe and skepticism. “Perhaps it’s her props?”
The disbelief turned into stunned silence as she rested her fingers and started playing the piano keys. Her pale skin glowed in the sunlight, a striking contrast to her sleek black hair that cascaded straight down her back. Full bangs framed her face, accentuating her delicate features. Her amber eyes sparkled with quiet confidence, and her warm smile seemed to invite everyone into the charm of the first-year HRM stall she helped to promote.
🎹♪♪♪
What a beauty unfolds like a symphony♪
The luckiest star heavens inspire
So delicate, so bright, so adorn
Guiding hearts to embrace like full bloom
But how was I to know?♪
That dagger cloaked in trust
Engulfed like vines that twist and sweep
Dragged in the depth…
Blair’s fingers halted in the broken keys as she paused. A melancholy in her gaze as she let out a sighed.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm….🎹♪
Where creatures hide in depths unknown,♪
A realm where time and hope are sown,
And a bloom that untouched by any storm,
As fragile as the finest silk reeled in ruthless.
The way she sang—light yet profoundly expressive—left the audience utterly speechless. It wasn’t the powerful belt of a pop star or the polished perfection of a trained vocalist; it was something uniquely hers. Her voice was delicate yet captivating, lingering in the ears like a soft melody carried by the wind. It resonated with an honesty and beauty that defied comparison, a sound so simple yet utterly enchanting that it silenced even the busiest conversations.
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As her fingers glided effortlessly across the piano keys, her voice intertwined with the music, creating a harmony that felt both ethereal and intimate. The students stood motionless, captivated, their eyes fixed on Blair as if they were caught in a trance.
Seizing the opportunity, the HRM students moved swiftly yet quietly, placing small plates of cassava sweets and coconut water as refreshments in front of the guests. With practiced ease, they refilled trays and made subtle nudges toward the table. Her performance provided the perfect backdrop for their hospitality.
A compass that lost its star,♪
A bridge I crossed illegal
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm,
The blue blood? Hmmm… Drained ‘til last drop.
Nothing special,♪
To creatures hide in depths unknown,
A realm where time and hope are sown,
And a bloom that untouched by any storm,
As fragile as the finest silk reeled in ruthless
How was I to know?♪
A mirror’s perfect echo
Of a maw of unfathomable sorrow
To me bowed like a willow,
Buried beneath the ashes♪
Through the dread, the disarray, the endless nightmare.
How was I to know?
A mirror’s distant echo,
Leads me back home of sunlight?
🎹♪♪♪
Ezra froze, his breath hitching as Blair’s fingers glided over the piano keys. To the crowd, the melody was unfamiliar, a fresh enchantment, but to him, it was a fragment of memory. His handsome features darkened, and his typically composed expression gave way to an unguarded emotion he couldn’t quite name.
As he stepped closer, her words from his 18th birthday enveloped him like a vine winding through his thoughts; “This piece is yours.” It was his alone—forever bound to him.
Ever since that day, a new instrumental piece has been born every year—a melody crafted just for him. She would sit by his side in a movie theater room of Taylor’s mansion and play the piece that only he should hear, as if guarding the music like a precious secret. She’d insist he lean in to catch every note, her voice barely above a whisper. Inevitably, the night would end with the two of them dozing together on the wide couch, her soft hums weaving the melody as she rested in his arms.
He loathed it—the way every smile she offered reflected the very reason his mother had died in such a pitiful and lonely way. Her warmth and unwavering love were the same intoxicating force that had diverted everyone’s attention when it mattered most. As Nathaly Taylor was breathing her last, broken and abandoned, the world’s gaze was fixed elsewhere—on Blair.
He hated it—not for the old reasons that had haunted him, but for something far more painful and raw. The melody, the one she now played with such devotion, was supposed to be his. How dare she? How could she forget the promise she made with such certainty?
What a beauty unfolds like a symphony♪
The luckiest star heavens inspire
So delicate, so bright, so adorn
Guiding hearts to embrace like full bloom
But how was I to know?♪
That dagger cloaked in trust
Engulfed like vines that twist and sweep
Dragged in the depth…
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm….🎹♪
While Ezra wrestled with his own torment, Spencer leaned in from the table closest to Blair, his gaze fixed on her. Something in his expression shifted—a tautness in his jaw and a flicker in his eyes that hinted at a storm brewing beneath the surface. His hands, resting on the arm of his chair, tightened imperceptibly, the knuckles blanching.
Every quiver in her voice seemed to resonate deeply with Spencer. As someone who understood the meaning of the lyrics very well, he could sense the burden of every emotion she held back. Her grit to finish her performance without shedding tears demanded applause.
Spencer’s brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He swallowed hard as a conflicted mix of emotions flashed across his face. Leaning back, he recalled witnessing the prideful, brave, and most resilient girl he knew crumble by the weight of the suppressed memories that exploded.
How was I to know?♪
A mirror’s perfect echo
Of a maw of unfathomable sorrow
To me bowed like a willow,
Buried beneath the ashes♪
Through the dread, the disarray, the endless nightmare.
How was I to know?
A mirror’s distant echo,
Leads me back home of sunlight?
🎹♪♪♪
Blair stood with a gracious smile on her lips as she performed a small, elegant bow. Her skirt swayed gently, the embroidered hem catching the light.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said in a regal tone, her graceful demeanor still captivating the crowd. Then she paused, her amber eyes twinkling mischievously. Picking up a plate from the nearby table, she held it high like a game show host presenting a grand prize. “Now, a serious question—how’s the Puto Lanson?”
The crowd blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. Only then did they collectively realize that every single person seated at the tables scattered around the area—tables that had somehow multiplied even outside the stall—already had a plate of steamed cassava cake and a freshly opened coconut with a straw in it.
“Isn’t it marvelous? That sweet, slightly nutty flavor from the cassava and brown sugar is pure perfection, isn’t it? Honestly, it’s so good that it deserves a standing ovation!”
She popped a small bite into her mouth, savoring it dramatically before adding with a sly grin, “Oh, and when you’re paying, don’t forget to include a little tip for my stellar performance. You know, consider it a special service fee for pairing your cassava cake with live entertainment!”
The crowd erupted in laughter, with someone shouting, “Only if you throw in an encore!”
She winked. “Deal! But only if you bring your own coconuts next time!”
As the students finally settled into their seats, the chatter subsided, and forks clinked against plates. The sweet aroma of cassava, mingling with the faint nuttiness of fresh coconut, captured their full attention to the desserts they had, whether knowingly or not, been persuaded to order. Her radiant smile gradually softened, and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed.
Her gaze was fixed on Spencer, who was seated just a few meters away. The effortless charm she had displayed moments earlier, replaced by something dimmer. With slow deliberation, she mouthed the words, “How’s my performance?” Her amber eyes held his in a silent challenge. “As I promised… I sing good, right?”
His expression remained calm, but his eyes betrayed a storm—a flicker of disbelief, anger, and something deeper. His lips tightened, and his jaw clenched ever so slightly as her words echoed in his mind.
To the crowd, he appeared composed, but within, he grappled, knowing that her song was no mere performance—it was a confession. The genius in him now felt like a fool, recognizing too late that he had accepted a challenge far more personal and revealing than he had ever anticipated.