The instant the three of us burst through the ornate doors into the main theater, I had exactly half a second to process the massive hall sprawling before me—two tiers of crimson velvet seating rising toward that same artificial moonlight—before my brain registered the second, significantly more jarring detail. Unlike the pristine lobby we’d just left, this place looked about as run down as the exterior had promised.
Water stains crept across the ceiling like geological maps, seats were missing chunks of padding, and the pervasive smell of must mixed with something floral permeated the air in pungent waves.
The stage dominated the far end of the hall, framed by heavy burgundy curtains that had clearly survived multiple regime changes. The whole space felt caught between grandeur and decay in a way that was oddly poignant, like watching a once-beautiful person age without quite losing the memory of what they’d been.
We trailed down the aisle a few feet, my boots sinking slightly into carpet that squelched in ways I chose not to examine too closely, before Julius released my hand and cupped both of his around his mouth like a makeshift megaphone.
"Felix!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the empty theater. "Loona’s finally arrived!"
I heard a scuffle behind the stage curtains—soft footsteps, something being knocked over, a tiny gasp of surprise—and then a small head popped out from the split where the curtains met. Blonde hair cascaded around delicate features, and those wide eyes—gods, those eyes, so large and expressive they took up half his face—locked onto me for precisely one second before he squeaked and ducked back behind the fabric like I’d personally threatened his existence.
My heart nearly melted on the spot, turning into some kind of emotional puddle that my ribcage struggled to contain, because Felix had always been adorable but time had apparently refined that quality into something approaching weaponized cuteness.
"Felix!" I called out, my voice softening automatically into the kind of tone you’d use to coax a frightened kitten from under the furniture. "Come on out, it’s me! I promise I’m not scary—well, okay, sometimes, but not to you! Never to you! Please don’t make me come back there because these boots were not designed for stage climbing!"
Nothing happened at first. The curtains remained stubbornly closed, and I was just about to nudge Julius to suggest we try a different approach, when they suddenly flew open with dramatic violence.
Felix came stumbling out in what could only be described as a ball of tears and forward momentum.
His long blonde hair bobbed with each running step, catching the moonlight and throwing it back in golden waves as the plain white dress he wore billowed around his slight frame like he was starring in some romantic film about windswept meadows and tragic love.
He reached the edge of the stage and didn’t even pause—instead he launched himself off with the kind of reckless trust that suggested he knew exactly who would catch him. I barely had time to brace myself before he crashed into me, his arms wrapping around my waist with desperate strength as sobs wracked his entire frame.
"Hey, hey," I murmured, one hand automatically coming up to pat his head while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. "It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay. We’re both okay. Well, I’m mostly okay—got a few new scars and some trauma, but who’s counting?"
I felt him hiccup against my chest, his tears soaking through my shirt before I set him down slowly. Then I carefully wiped the tears away with my thumb when he finally tilted his face up to look at me.
"There you are. Saints above, Felix, you’ve gotten even more adorable somehow. How’s that possible? Did you make a deal with some deity of cuteness? Is there a shrine I need to know about?"
Felix breathed a shuddering sigh of pure joy, his expression transforming from tear-stained distress into something so radiantly happy it made my chest ache. He took in my smile with the kind of vigor usually reserved for people seeing religious visions as his hands clutched at my blouse like he was afraid I might evaporate if he let go.
Then I noticed—because how could I not notice—the very distinct stiffness pressing against my crotch through the thin fabric of his dress.
I couldn’t help it. The joke was right there, practically gift-wrapped and waiting. "Someone’s a little bit too excited to see me," I said with a glance down at the bulge tenting his dress in ways that confirmed he was wearing nothing underneath. "I mean, I’m flattered, truly, but maybe we save this level of enthusiasm for after the introductions?"
Felix’s face went from pale to crimson so fast I briefly worried about his blood pressure as his hands flew down to cover himself with mortified urgency, a tiny whimper escaping his throat that was equal parts embarrassed and absolutely precious.
I laughed—couldn’t help it, the sound bubbling up warm and affectionate—and was about to say something reassuring when a sharp bang echoed from the side of the theater.
The door—one I hadn’t even noticed tucked into the wall—swung open with violent enthusiasm, and two figures came charging down the row of seats like they were competing in some kind of deranged obstacle course.
The one in front was a beastfolk bunny girl, and my brain stuttered trying to process all the visual information at once because she was wearing fishnets that climbed up impossibly long legs, a white bunny suit that left very little to imagination, and a cute red bow positioned just below the thin metal of her collar.
Her hair was straight and white as snow, falling to her shoulders in a sleek curtain. Her eyes—a deep crimson, exactly like mine—tracked her pursuer with manic glee as she waved something lacy and dark above her head like a trophy.
Behind her, saints above and every deity in between, was a succubus. Another succubus. My brain took a moment to recalibrate because full succubi were not supposed to be here. They’d been outlawed generations ago, purged from Prismillya after one too many "unfortunate incidents" involving vanished nobles, drained treasuries, and entire districts collapsing into cultish chaos.
And yet there she was, sprinting in the open like the ban had never existed at all.
Her skin was a rich, wine-dark red that glistened like molten glass in the moonlight, deep and vibrant in a way that made my own pale complexion look washed out by comparison.
Freckles dotted her collarbones and cheeks like constellations someone had carefully painted across her flesh, each one a tiny mark of imperfection that somehow made her look even more striking.
Her emerald eyes sparkled like cut gems, sharp, brilliant, and currently blazing with fury, while her breasts—saints, I was trying not to stare but they were right there—were small and pert, defying gravity with the kind of elegant assertion that suggested they knew exactly how perfect they were and didn’t need volume to prove it.
She was wearing lingerie, dark, lacy, and clinging to her curves, except the panties were currently being twirled around on the bunny girl’s finger like some kind of perverse flag of victory.
"Give those back, you insufferable cotton-tailed menace!" the succubus shrieked, her voice carrying across the theater with operatic projection. "I swear to every circle of hell, if you don’t return my underwear right now—"
The bunny girl stuck her tongue out—actually stuck her tongue out like a child—and the succubus lunged with a growl that was more feral than I’d expected.
They collided mid-leap, becoming a rolling ball of limbs, white fur, and red skin, grappling over each other as they tumbled down the aisle and crashed directly into the space where I was standing.
Felix shrieked—a high, piercing sound—before he dove behind me for protection, his small hands clutching at my skirt as the wrestling match continued at my feet.
The bunny girl had somehow gotten the succubus in a headlock despite being physically smaller, while the succubus was attempting to bite her captor’s arm with teeth that looked slightly too sharp to be decorative.
Julius cleared his throat—not loud, not aggressive, just a single pointed sound that somehow carried more authority than any shout could have.
In an instant, both women froze mid-grapple, their heads slowly turning toward me with synchronized precision that would have been impressive if it weren’t so deeply unnerving.
The succubus’s emerald eyes locked onto mine, and I watched something light up behind them then—recognition maybe, or possibly just excitement at seeing another member of her species—before she scrambled to her feet with athletic grace.
"Oh... my... stars!" she breathed, and suddenly she was circling me with increasingly frantic movements. "So cute! Look at you! Look at this face!"
Her hands shot out before I could dodge, fingers squishing my cheeks and pulling them in ways that violated every concept of personal space.
"The little nose! The perfect lips! The eyes! Saints above, those eyes!" She was practically vibrating with excitement, her crimson skin flushing darker with enthusiasm as she poked and prodded at various parts of my anatomy. "How old are you? Where did you come from? Have you been a succubus long? Do you know about the feeding techniques? The dream-walking? The—"
The bunny girl sprang up from the floor with impossible agility and shoved the succubus aside—literally planted both hands on her face and pushed with enough force to send her staggering backward—before leaning in and sniffing me.
Not subtly, not politely, but full-on pressing her nose to my neck and inhaling with the kind of deep, thorough investigation reserved for drug-sniffing dogs at customs.
She trailed lower, her nose following some invisible scent map across my chest, down my stomach, and then—oh gods, oh no—she pressed her face directly against my crotch and took a long, shuddering breath that made her body tremble in response.
A soft moan escaped her lips—breathy, needy, absolutely inappropriate—and I felt myself stiffen in my panties despite my brain screaming at my body that now was not the time. She pulled back slightly, her crimson eyes meeting mine, and then a wicked smirk spread across her face.
"You fucking reek of semen, you know?" she purred, her voice low and thick with amusement.
I stuttered. Actually stuttered, words dissolving into incoherent syllables as my face flooded with heat. "I—that’s—you can’t just—there were circumstances—it’s not what you—I mean it is what you think but also there’s context and—"
"Would all of you just shut the fuck up?!"
The shout came from somewhere in the upper seating, echoing across the theater with enough force to shake the dust loose from the ceiling.
Every single person in the room—me, Julius, Felix, the bunny girl, the succubus, even Brutus who’d been standing silently this entire time probably regretting every life choice that had led him up to this moment—froze and slowly turned our heads toward the source.