Hee-Hee… We Haven’t Had Enough - Vocaloid 神威x巡音

💜💗💜💗💜 Story 💗💜💗💜💗 Deep within the theater, there was a corridor without windows. Its walls were covered with clown masks from performances of the past. The masks came in all shapes and forms. Some wore exaggerated grins, others wept with painted tears, and a few had their mouths curved into grotesque smiles. It seemed that no matter what the person wearing them had experienced, they were destined to maintain those ridiculous expressions forever. At the end of the corridor, a heavy black door slowly closed, separating the crimson glow of the stage and the empty audience seats from the world beyond. Kamui Gakupo and Megurine Luka had finally returned to their private dressing room. The room contained an antique round table, two velvet armchairs, and a black mirror that occupied almost an entire wall. Playing cards, performance notes, and several sketches covered the tabletop, each filled with strange symbols. In the corner, a phonograph turned by itself, playing a cheerful circus melody that somehow inspired an inexplicable sense of unease. Gakupo removed his colorful black gloves and placed the entirely black deck of playing cards on the table. His long purple hair cascaded over his shoulders, a few strands brushing lightly against his cheeks. His violet eyes still held traces of the excitement he had felt during the performance. Luka hung her top hat on the back of a chair before casually sitting on the edge of the table, swinging her legs gently. She twirled a black feather pen between her fingers, the purple heart painted beneath her eye standing out vividly in the dim light. The two remained silent for a moment. Then Gakupo suddenly smiled. It was not the exaggerated grin he had shown the audience onstage. This smile was more composed, more genuine in its delight. The corners of his lips slowly lifted, and his violet eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were savoring a riddle whose answer was known only to him. “Darling, what did you think of tonight's performance?” Luka stopped twirling her feather pen and tilted her head toward him. “If we're judging only by the ending, I'd give it a perfect score.” She deliberately paused before revealing a sinister smile. “However, if you're asking about the entire performance, I think there are still plenty of things we could improve.” Gakupo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her answer. “Such as?” “The opening.” Luka pulled a notebook from the table and opened it to the page containing their performance schedule. “We spent too much time allowing the audience to grow accustomed to the atmosphere of the theater. Although we managed to capture their attention quickly, I think we could do better. If we made them feel that something was wrong from the very beginning, yet left them unable to identify exactly what was amiss, the entire experience would feel completely different.” She drew a small circle on the paper with her feather pen. “For example, we could make every clock in the theater stop at the same time. We could subtly alter the stage scenery whenever nobody was paying attention, or occasionally introduce a sound into the music that doesn't belong to the original melody.” She raised her eyes, her smile gradually deepening. “When the audience begins to doubt their own eyes and ears, that's when the real performance begins.” Gakupo listened quietly before letting out a low chuckle. “Excellent. You want them to start feeling afraid before they even see us.” “Exactly.” “Then we could incorporate the theater bells into the performance as well.” He picked up another sketch, slowly tracing the outline of the stage with his fingertip. “Whenever the bells ring, something changes. The lighting, the seats, the curtains—even our positions.” Luka's eyes lit up. “And we wouldn't need to let them witness every change as it happens.” “Sometimes, all they need to do is turn their heads and look back again, only to discover that the figure sitting beside them has disappeared.” The two exchanged a glance. A moment later, they burst into laughter together. Their laughter echoed through the small dressing room, intertwining with the circus melody playing from the phonograph. The clown masks hanging on the walls seemed even more unsettling as their laughter filled the air. Luka hopped down from the table and walked over to the black mirror. Her reflection revealed her long pink hair, pale face, and the purple heart beneath her eye. She touched her makeup with one hand before turning around and flashing Gakupo a radiant smile. “There's also the costumes.” “The costumes?” “Yes. Tonight's designs were beautiful, but we could make them more distinctive.” She spun lightly, her skirt and decorations swaying with her movements. “I want to add black heart patterns to my cuffs, making them appear whenever the lighting changes. As for you…” She stopped and examined Gakupo carefully. “Your purple hair suits the stage perfectly. Next time, we could add a few silver chains so they occasionally reflect the light in the darkness. When you step out from behind the curtains, the audience should see those glimmers first, before slowly making out your face.” Gakupo glanced down at his long hair, considering her suggestion. “That sounds promising. However, there's one detail I'd like to preserve.” “What detail?” “My smile.” He lifted his head and slowly raised the corners of his lips at his reflection. At first, the smile was elegant, almost charming. Yet as his lips gradually curved higher, the amusement in his eyes remained utterly devoid of warmth. Instead, his expression resembled a dark doorway slowly opening onto something dreadful. “I've noticed that when I don't rush to reveal my malicious intentions, the audience becomes even more curious about what I'm thinking.” Luka gazed at him and suddenly began to applaud softly. “Darling, that's exactly what I love about you.” She walked over and rested both arms on his shoulders from behind, looking into the mirror alongside him. “You don't need to laugh loudly all the time, and you don't need to exaggerate every movement like a madman. Sometimes, all you need to do is watch them silently, then smile at the most inappropriate moment. That's more than enough.” “And what about you?” Gakupo turned his head slightly, his purple hair brushing gently against her face. “How do you intend to improve your own performance?” Luka blinked her blue eyes, as though she had been waiting for him to ask. “I want to make my voice more versatile.” She released her arms, returned to the table, and picked up a sheet of paper covered in dialogue. “Sometimes, I can address the audience affectionately, just as I did tonight. Other times, I can speak as though I'm inviting friends to a party, cheerfully announcing that the show is about to begin. But at the most crucial moment, I'll suddenly stop.” She held the paper near her lips and smiled sweetly. “Then, in the gentlest voice imaginable, I'll ask them…” Luka tilted her head, fixing her blue eyes on her imaginary audience. “‘Do you really believe this is just a performance?’” When she finished speaking, the dressing room fell silent for a moment. Gakupo slowly turned toward her. His expression shifted from admiration to undisguised delight. “Perfect.” He stepped forward and bent down to kiss the back of her hand. “I'm already looking forward to the next show.” Luka smiled and withdrew her hand, though she made no real attempt to move away from him. “Be patient, darling. We haven't discussed the most important part yet.” “The most important part?” “The order in which we draw the cards.” She returned to her seat and spread the entirely black deck across the table. Every card was as black as the night itself. Even the hearts and diamonds, which would ordinarily be red, had been dyed a bottomless shade of black. With her fingertips, she divided the deck into two piles. “Tonight's arrangement was quite interesting. The Two of Hearts determines the manner of death, while the Ace of Spades determines the degree of suffering. But I think we could make the drawing process far more dramatic next time.” Gakupo pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. “What do you have in mind?” “I haven't decided yet.” Luka answered honestly, then gave him a sly smile. “However, I'd like the act of drawing the cards to become the centerpiece of the entire performance. Rather than simply drawing two cards, I want every card to feel like a secret waiting to be revealed.” She pushed one black playing card toward him. “For example, the first card wouldn't reveal its result immediately. Instead, it would alter some detail on the stage. The second card would then make everyone realize that what happened earlier wasn't an accident.” Gakupo lowered his gaze to the card, tapping its back twice with his fingertips. “And we wouldn't need to explain the rules to anyone.” “Of course not.” Luka's eyes curved with amusement. “We're the ones who make the rules, darling. The audience only needs to watch us and wonder what we'll do next.” “Then which part would you like me to handle?” “You'll be responsible for keeping them guessing.” She extended one finger and gently tapped his chest. “And I'll make them believe they've already figured out the answer.” Gakupo was momentarily taken aback before letting out a deep laugh. “That sounds like a delightful division of responsibilities.” “I think so too.” Luka neatly gathered the cards and placed them back in the center of the table. Then she picked up her pen and began writing several lines on the final page of their performance notebook. A new opening. New scenery. A new card-drawing ritual. And a new way to take their final bow. She wrote slowly, as though every word deserved careful consideration. Gakupo sat beside her, occasionally suggesting new ideas. Sometimes he expanded upon her concepts; other times, he deliberately proposed arrangements she had never anticipated. They discussed how the lighting should change, how the music should stop at the most inappropriate moments, and how far apart they should stand onstage to make every moment of their eventual closeness appear particularly captivating. Occasionally, Luka would turn around and ask for his opinion. Sometimes, while she was absorbed in writing, Gakupo would reach out and gently brush the pink strands of hair away from her eyes. Whenever their gazes met, those intimate, knowing smiles would return. They were not merely performance partners. They were accomplices who understood each other better than anyone else. For them, the most enjoyable part of the show had never been simply standing onstage and receiving applause. It was the pleasure of planning and designing everything together, then turning their wildest ideas into reality. Night gradually settled over the theater. The melody from the phonograph finally stopped, leaving the room in a brief silence. Luka put down her feather pen and surveyed the pages of notes she had filled with satisfaction. “I think we have more than enough ideas now.” Gakupo picked up the notebook and flipped through it from beginning to end before slowly closing it. “More than enough.” He raised his head and looked at her. “However, there's still one thing missing.” Luka leaned closer, curious. “What is it?” Gakupo did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached out to straighten her collar and gently tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Then he leaned toward her and whispered: “A symbol that will make everyone remember us.” Luka's expression shifted slightly. The next moment, she suddenly laughed. It was an extraordinarily sinister smile. She slowly picked up two blank black cards and drew a heart on one and a spade on the other. Then she placed the cards side by side on the table, allowing the two dark symbols to reflect one another beneath the dim light. “Hearts and spades.” She spoke softly. “Tenderness and suffering, intimacy and fear. Two entirely different symbols, yet both can exist in our hands at the same time.” Gakupo stared at the cards, the smile on his lips gradually deepening. “Just like us.” “Exactly, darling.” Luka turned toward him, an unsettling glimmer dancing in her blue eyes. “So, next time the audience sees these two cards, they'll know that we've arrived.” Gakupo picked up the card bearing the spade, while Luka took the black heart. They raised the cards before their faces and exchanged a knowing glance. Then, at the same time, they smiled. It was not the stage smile they had practiced to please an audience, nor was it a false expression worn to conceal fear. It was their genuine smile. Sinister, wicked, and filled with anticipation. “Darling,” Gakupo murmured, “our next performance will be even more spectacular.” Luka leaned against his shoulder, pressing the black heart card against their joined hands. “Of course.” She added with a smile: “After all, we still have so many delightful ideas that we haven't had the chance to show everyone.” Their laughter once again filled the room. The black mirror reflected their silhouettes sitting side by side, while the two cards on the table slowly rose into the air without anyone touching them. The heart and the spade flipped over simultaneously. Two scarlet clown faces gradually appeared on their pitch-black surfaces. In the next instant, the faces turned black again. As though they could hardly wait to welcome the next group of spectators into the theater. Outside the dressing room, one of the clown masks at the end of the corridor suddenly turned silently toward the theater entrance. Its painted mouth began to curve upward, little by little.