Myqee walked slowly down the road, her mind full of thoughts. She didn't know what she was going to do next. Her father died a year ago on her birthday. Her stepmother reminded her of the 'Cinderella' story. The worst thing was that she had just been thrown out of her late father's house. 

Even after working so hard doing odd jobs, her money was taken away from her, and she could not buy herself a better dress. But she was alright. At least she had somewhere to stay. But after she was chased away, she realized she had nothing left. She just wished someone would help her out. She sat by the road, thoughts racing through her mind. 

"What did I do to deserve all this? Was I not good enough? I wish I could just be happy for once. Sing songs with joy and make others happy. All I want is joy all around me. Is that too much to ask?"

She sighed and cried, not knowing how time was passing. When she realized how late it was getting, she got up and continued her journey. She opened the only sack she had and took out a steamed bun. That was all she had. As she was about to take a bite, she noticed a person on the side of the road. He almost looked like he had been dumped there. Stained with blood all over and open wounds on his body. 

Myqee was shocked. She could not believe her eyes. She wondered how the man had become like that. Her heart softened with pity as she looked at the man. She felt that it was horrible to do such a thing to a person, no matter what they did wrong. Myqee went towards the person and knelt down beside him. She was mesmerized by the man's looks. He was so good-looking and had a nice physique. She put the bun back in her sack and took out a cloth and a bottle of water. 

Myqee held the man in her lap. She carefully made the cloth wet, then started gently wiping the man's body. She had always been a kind girl with a soft heart. She couldn't bare to walk away and not help the man. Although that was the only bottle of water she was left with, she decided it was better to use it on the man, than keep it for herself. 

When she was done wiping the man down, she took another cloth and tore it into pieces. She used the pieces to try and cover the man's wounds. Although she was not able to cover all the wounds, she was able to cover most of them. When she was done, she decided to set the man gently on the ground. Before leaving, she took the steamed bun that she had initially wanted to eat, and placed it on the man's hand. 

"He might be hungry when he wakes up, he will probably need it more than I do."

She got back up on her feet and was about to leave when she heard a voice. It was gentle and fragile, and she knew it was the man's, so she stopped to look at him. 

"Thank... You!"

"Oh, no need to thank me. Please, don't struggle to talk, you are still in a bad state. I wish I could help you further, but I really have no way. I am so sorry."

"You helped me quite enough actually. All I needed was to stop my bleeding. I thought it was going to take a while, but since you helped me, it was quite fast. Thank you so much. I feel better now."

"It was nothing, really. Just please take better care of yourself next time. Life is too short!"

On hearing her words, the man smirked and got up. He seemed quite fine, and the wounds on his body seemed like they healed really fast. Railien was amazed. She thought that the man had an excellent body. The man stared at her intensively before speaking. 

"May I know your name, please?"

"I am Myqee. What about you?"

"My name is Akuma. It is such a pleasure to meet you. I did not know that there were still such good people around. If you do not mind, please, let me return the favor. Tell me how I can help you. I will do my best to fulfill your wish."

"It is nice to meet you too. I really hope you can stay well from now on. There are still good people, though it is quite hard to find. Do your best to stay away from trouble. That's what I ask from you. I don't need anything else. You should find your way home then. I will be going now. Take care!"

"Thank you again. I will try my best to stay away from trouble. Hey, Myqee, you should take the road to the right. This crossroad is not safe, but the two other roads are worse." 

"Thank you, I will take the right one then."

As Myqee took the right road, she thought to herself that she should not trust strangers. She then remembered that she had lost so much hope, so she decided to just keep going and see what would happen. 

"Hey, Myqee, what do you love doing the most?"

Although the question was weird and off-putting, Myqee did not hold back and shouted. 

"I love singing the most, because it calms my heart!"

"Then you should sing to your heart's content!"

"I will, thank you!"

Akuma looked at her as she left, then looked at the steamed bun in his hand. He let out a grin, then stood up and disappeared. Railien kept walking for hours before reaching a center. There were a few houses and shops there and they all seemed open. 

When she checked her phone, she realized that it was almost morning. She went into one of the shops and bought something to eat using a necklace that her late father had gifted to her before he had died. Although she was not willing to part with it, she had no choice but to let it go. 

Myqee then sat down on a bench and started eating the snack she bought. 

The night turned colder as Myqee sat on the weathered bench outside the dimly lit shop. The snack she had traded her necklace for was hardly satisfying, but it quelled the hunger pangs that gnawed at her insides. Each bite was a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost to sustain the present. As she ate, the wind whispered through the deserted streets, carrying with it the faint echo of a song—a melancholic tune that seemed to resonate with her current state.

Unable to shake the feeling of desolation, Myqee's thoughts drifted back to the stranger at the crossroads. Akuma. His name alone suggested a hint of danger, yet his demeanor had been anything but. The rapid healing, his graceful movements, and that inexplicable disappearance all pointed to something unnatural. But Myqee, wrapped in her own miseries, pushed these thoughts aside. She had bigger concerns—like where she would spend the night.

Just as she prepared to leave the bench and seek shelter, a gentle hand touched her shoulder. Startled, she turned to find an elderly woman standing behind her, her face creased with wrinkles that spoke of wisdom and a life fully lived.

"Dear child, you look lost and weary. Come, I have a small room behind my shop where you can rest for the night," the woman said, her voice as soothing as a lullaby.

Grateful and without many options, Myqee nodded and followed the woman into the shop. The inside was a quaint mixture of a general store and a café, with shelves stocked with essentials and small tables scattered around for customers.

"My name is Eloise. I couldn't help but notice your situation. This town, while small, can be quite daunting to a newcomer, especially at night," Eloise explained as she led Myqee to a small room at the back of the shop.

The room was modest, with a single bed, a worn-out rug, and a small window that let in the moonlight. Eloise provided her with a blanket and a pillow, assuring her that she could stay as long as she needed to figure out her next steps.

"Thank you, Eloise. I can’t tell you how much this means to me," Myqee said, her eyes welling up with tears of relief.

"There’s good in this world yet, child. Remember, every kindness you give is bound to come back to you," Eloise replied, smiling warmly before leaving Myqee to her thoughts.

Alone again, Myqee lay on the bed, the events of the day replaying in her mind. The road. The crossroads. Akuma. His words echoed in her ears, "Sing to your heart's content." It struck her then—the power of her own voice, her love for singing, which she had nearly forgotten in the turmoil of her life.

Determined to not let her spirit be crushed, Myqee decided that no matter what, she would follow her passion. Perhaps singing could be her salvation, a way to bring joy not only to herself but also to others.

The next morning, after thanking Eloise and promising to return the kindness, Myqee set out with a new purpose. She would head to the city, where opportunities to sing might be found. With her few belongings, she started her journey, the morning sun casting long shadows on the path ahead.

However, the road to the city was not kind. She encountered skepticism and scorn when she told of her dreams to sing. Doors were slammed, and opportunities were scarce. Her resolve was tested time and again, but she persevered, her nights spent practicing under the stars.

One evening, as she sang by a small fire outside a town, a group of travelers stopped to listen. Captivated by her voice, they introduced themselves as members of a traveling theater group. They were enchanted by her talent and offered her a place among them.

Overjoyed, Myqee accepted, and soon, she was traveling with the group, her days filled with rehearsals and performances. She blossomed on stage, her voice a beacon drawing larger audiences wherever they went.

Yet, in quiet moments, her thoughts drifted to Akuma. His mysterious nature, the brief encounter that had altered the course of her journey, puzzled her. Had he been a guardian angel in disguise, or was there a darker thread woven into their meeting?

As the theater group approached a large city for a major performance, Myqee’s fame as a singer began to spread, drawing attention not just from locals but from influential figures in the music industry.

One night, after a particularly stirring performance, a well-dressed man approached her backstage. His presence was commanding, and his eyes, a deep shade of crimson, seemed eerily familiar.

"Myqee, your voice is truly remarkable. I would like to offer you a chance to shine brighter than the stars," he said, his voice smooth and enticing.

As Myqee looked closer, recognition dawned on her. Those eyes... It was Akuma, not as the wounded stranger at the crossroads, but as someone powerful, someone who held the keys to her future.

The realization struck her hard. Had this been his plan all along? To guide her towards her destiny?

"Are you ready to embrace your fate?" Akuma asked, extending his hand.

Myqee, with a mixture of trepidation and excitement, knew that her answer would change everything. With her heart pounding, she took a deep breath and prepared to make a choice that would define her path forever. 

The journey had just begun, and the echoes of her choices would resonate far and wide, in ways she could never have imagined. 

As Myqee stared into Akuma's crimson eyes, a chill ran down her spine. She was intrigued by the offer, yet something about his sudden reappearance stirred a pool of suspicion within her. His transformation from a wounded stranger to a wealthy patron with significant influence in the music industry seemed too coincidental, too orchestrated.

"Why are you doing this?" Myqee asked cautiously, trying to gauge Akuma's intentions.

Akuma’s smile was enigmatic. "I believe in nurturing true talent when I see it. And yours, Myqee, is a talent that deserves the grandest stage. The world should hear your voice."

His words were flattering, yet Myqee felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She remembered his quick recovery that night at the crossroads, his subtle smirk, and now his luxurious attire and mysterious aura—it didn't add up. How could someone go from being near death to wielding such power and elegance? And why was he so interested in her career?

Despite her doubts, the temptation was strong. This was her dream, after all, to sing and be heard. Yet, as she was about to speak, a memory of her father’s advice echoed in her mind: "If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Always question where the gold comes from before you accept it."

"Thank you, Akuma, for your kind words and this incredible offer," Myqee began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "But may I ask, how did you come to be in such a position to offer this? Last we met, things were quite different."

Akuma's eyes flickered briefly, a shadow passing over his features. "Let's just say I have had my fair share of fortunes and misfortunes. The world is vast, and opportunities for those willing to seize them are plentiful."

Myqee noticed the vague nature of his explanation. His reluctance to divulge details added layers to her suspicions. She thought about the steamed bun she had given him, how trivial it seemed now in the face of his current luxury.

"Who else have you helped like this?" she probed further.

Akuma chuckled softly. "My dear, in business and in art, there are many exchanges. Not all need to be public. Privacy is a valuable commodity in my line of work."

His answer was slick, practiced, and it made Myqee uneasy. She realized that accepting his offer might entangle her in matters far beyond her understanding. The allure of fame and success was strong, but so was her desire to remain true to herself and her values.

"Thank you, Akuma, but I must decline," Myqee said finally, her decision firm. "I need to make my way on my own terms, even if it takes longer."

Akuma's expression hardened for a moment before he regained his composure. "Very well, Myqee. It is your choice, after all. But remember, offers like mine don't come often. Should you change your mind, you know how to find me."

With that, he turned and left, disappearing as mysteriously as he had appeared. Myqee watched him go, a mix of relief and disappointment coursing through her. She knew she had likely just turned down the shortcut to her dreams, but she felt a stronger commitment to her path, one that she could forge with integrity.

In the days that followed, Myqee continued her journey with the traveling theater, her performances gaining in depth and emotion from her experiences. The group's camaraderie and the honest applause of the audience gave her a sense of fulfillment that no quick rise to fame could offer.

As her reputation grew, legitimate opportunities began to arise, ones that were clear and transparent, with no shadows lurking behind. Myqee embraced each one, building her career step by step, her talent and hard work opening doors that were grounded in reality, not shrouded in mystery.

Through it all, she sometimes wondered about Akuma—what his true intentions had been, and what dark paths she might have walked had she accepted his offer. But as she sang each note, free from unseen strings, Myqee knew she had made the right choice, trusting in her own voice and the honest echoes of her heart.

The winter was harsh that year, the cold seeming to penetrate the walls of even the grandest theaters, chilling the performers to their bones. Myqee’s troupe, under the now constant and scrutinizing patronage of Akuma, traveled from city to city, each venue booked solid with patrons eager to witness the magic that the mysterious benefactor had helped cultivate. But with each performance, the strain grew heavier on Myqee's shoulders, her smiles on stage masking the turmoil that churned within.

It was during a particularly difficult stretch of the tour, with sets breaking down and costumes mysteriously going missing, that the troupe faced its biggest challenge yet. In the middle of a performance in a grand opera house in Lyon, a backdrop fell, causing a near disaster that injured two of the performers and brought the show to a sudden, jarring halt. The audience was left in confusion, and the troupe in disarray.

As the chaos unfolded backstage, Akuma appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the frantic energy that buzzed through the air. “Myqee, let me help,” he offered, his voice smooth and reassuring. “I can arrange for the best medical care for your injured friends, and as for the set—leave that to me.”

Grateful yet wary, Myqee accepted his help. The injured performers were swiftly taken to a private clinic, and within hours, a crew under Akuma’s direction was working through the night to repair the set. By the next morning, everything was in place as if nothing had happened. The show could go on, thanks to Akuma’s intervention.

As the tour continued, Akuma’s presence became more pronounced. He traveled with the troupe, his aides always nearby. Myqee found herself under a golden cage of surveillance and luxury, her every need met before she even realized she had it. Yet, the golden threads felt more like chains each day.

Akuma’s generosity bordered on obsession. He showered Myqee with gifts—jewelry, rare books on music and theater, and dresses that cost more than Myqee had ever dreamed of. Each gift was a reminder of his unspoken demand for her affection and loyalty. But Myqee’s heart grew heavier with each velvet-wrapped present. She couldn’t shake the feeling that each token was a shackle, tying her down to a destiny she never asked for.

One evening, after a particularly successful show in Vienna, Akuma invited Myqee to dine with him privately in his lavish quarters, set up temporarily in one of the city’s most opulent hotels. The room was adorned with roses, candles flickering softly against the luxurious backdrop. The setting was perfect, the dinner exquisite, but Myqee’s stomach churned with unease.

As they dined, Akuma’s conversation turned personal. “Myqee, you must know by now how deeply I care for you,” he began, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her want to look away, yet she couldn’t. “I wish to offer you more than just patronage. I want you to consider a life alongside me, sharing in all that I have.”

Myqee’s fork clattered against her plate, her appetite lost. “Akuma, I... I appreciate all you’ve done, but I cannot accept this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akuma’s face darkened for a moment before he smiled, a chilling, calculated gesture. “Of course, you need time. But consider what I offer, Myqee. I can give you the world.”

The tour drew to a close with a grand finale in Prague, the city’s historic opera house packed to the rafters. The final performance was a spectacle of sound and emotion, Myqee’s voice soaring, bittersweet and powerful. As the final note lingered in the air, the audience erupted into applause, the adulation washing over her in waves.

But as she took her bows, her eyes met Akuma’s across the crowded theater. His applause was slow, deliberate, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine. He knew, as did she, that a decision loomed on the horizon.

Later that night, back in her hotel room, Myqee’s mind raced. The opulence that surrounded her felt suffocating, the gifts from Akuma heavy with unspoken promises. It was then that she noticed a small, elegantly carved box on her vanity, one she hadn’t seen before. Inside, she found a letter, written in Akuma’s flowing script.

“My dear Myqee,” it read, “consider this my final offer. Join me willingly, and be part of something greater than you can imagine, or refuse, and lose everything you hold dear. The choice is yours.”

The truth of Akuma’s identity, the reality of his being the devil in disguise, crashed over her like a wave. His words, once cloaked in charm, now revealed the depths of his manipulation and control. Myqee knew what she had to do. 

As Myqee sat alone, the letter crinkled in her trembling hands, her heart pounded with the realization of the weight of her choice. The room seemed to close in on her, each lavish furnishing and extravagant gift a testament to Akuma's manipulation. Yet, amidst the gilded oppression, a part of her felt the weight of responsibility—it was not just her fate that hung in the balance, but potentially many others. Akuma, in his devilish guise, had the power to create much darkness in the world, but if she were by his side, perhaps she could temper that, guide it towards light.

With a deep breath, she stood, her decision clear in her mind. She would stay, not as a captive to his whims but as a counterbalance to his immense power. This was the agreement they had struck, and though he had confessed his love for her, she knew that such a love from a devil was a precarious thing, fraught with danger and temptation.

The following morning, Myqee approached Akuma. He was waiting in his study, the room dark except for the light casting deep shadows across his ageless face. The atmosphere was tense, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Myqee’s presence softened it slightly, her resolve firm.

“Akuma, I have considered your offer,” she started, her voice steady despite the churning fear inside. “I will stay with you, as I promised, but remember our agreement. You shall not harm another soul. I will be here, not as your possession, but as your conscience, your guide.”

Akuma’s eyes studied her for a long moment, and then, slowly, he nodded. “Very well, Myqee. I have never intended to deceive you about the nature of my affections nor my intentions. Know that my love for you is real, as real as the darkness from which I was born. Together, we shall see if a devil can indeed walk in the light.”

In the months that followed, Akuma kept his word. Under Myqee’s influence, his actions, though still driven by his intrinsic nature, were less malevolent. He redirected his considerable influence towards endeavors that, while still serving his interests, also benefitted others. Hospitals, schools, and even art centers like the one Myqee’s troupe performed in received anonymous donations that transformed them into state-of-the-art facilities.

Myqee watched all these developments warily. She saw the change in Akuma, a softening of sorts, a consideration in his actions that hadn’t been there before. It gave her hope, but a part of her remained on guard. The devil was, after all, a master of deception. Could a being so steeped in darkness truly walk in the light? Or was this yet another layer of manipulation, a deeper, more insidious game?

As winter gave way to spring, the tour resumed. The troupe, bolstered by the incidents of the previous season, performed with renewed vigor. Myqee’s voice, her artistry, seemed only to deepen, reflecting the complex tapestry of her emotions—hope, fear, love, and the constant, nagging doubt about the nature of her pact with Akuma.

One evening, after a particularly stirring performance in Paris, Myqee wandered away from the after-party, seeking solace in the cool, night air. She found herself in a quiet garden, the lights of the city flickering like distant stars. As she walked, absorbed in her thoughts, a shadow detached itself from the darkness. Akuma stepped into the moonlight, his gaze finding hers.

“You were extraordinary tonight, Myqee,” he said, his voice low and full of an emotion she dared not identify.

“Thank you, Akuma,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral. “The troupe is happy, the audience was moved. It’s all any performer can ask for.”

Akuma moved closer, his presence overwhelming. “And what about you, Myqee? Are you happy?”

The question caught her off guard. Was she happy? She lived in a world of luxury, her influence used for good, her days filled with music and applause. And yet, she was bound to a devil, her life a constant play of shadows and light.

“I am... content,” she chose her words carefully. “I see the good that comes from our arrangement. It gives me hope.”

“Hope is a powerful thing,” Akuma mused, looking up at the stars. “It can transform even the darkest soul.”

“Yes,” Myqee agreed, her gaze also lifting to the heavens. “It can. And perhaps, in time, it will transform more than we think.”

As they stood together, the night whispering around them, a fragile understanding passed between them. Myqee’s path was set alongside a being of great darkness, but in her heart, she harbored a flickering light of hope. Hope that even the deepest shadows might one day be touched by light.