JUGULAR ─── original

The air in the Taureau Academy was thick with anticipation, a blend of nervous energy and the sweet scent of rosin. Tonight was the opening of 'Swan Lake,' a night that promised to solidify Aria Huynh's place as the undisputed queen of the stage. Backstage, the organized chaos of dancers stretching and technicians making final adjustments hummed with a deceptive calm.
Then, a piercing scream shattered the illusion.
The frantic cries of a junior dancer echoed through the hallowed halls, drawing a small, horrified crowd to Aria's private practice room. The door stood ajar, revealing a scene that would forever stain the academy's pristine reputation.
Aria Huynh, the prima ballerina, lay still on the polished wooden floor, her white Odette leotard starkly contrasted by the crimson bloom beneath her. Beside her, a dainty silver dagger glinted under the harsh stage lights, its blade a cruel, silent testament to the violence that had just unfolded. Her jugular, the very vessel of her life's rhythm, had been cleanly, brutally severed.
The academy, a temple of grace and beauty, had become a slaughterhouse.
