From last kiss to first kiss

It all started in the 1990s when an exhausted, average guy decided to visit a music shop to buy an album, hoping to relieve some of the stress from work. After making his purchase, he stood at the street lane, waiting for a taxi.

"You like Sinatra?" asked a woman who was also waiting for a taxi. She had noticed the Frank Sinatra album he was holding, the cover featuring a picture of the legendary singer.

"What?" he replied, momentarily caught off guard.

"I said, do you like Sinatra?"

"Oh… yeah. Yeah, I do."

"You?"

"I love him."

"So, what’s your favorite song by Sinatra?"

He thought for a moment. "'My Way.' It makes me feel like I'm the master of the sea."

"And you?" he asked.

"'I'm Gonna Live Till I Die.' It gives me, you know, a sense of life, a reason to enjoy the moment."

She smiled. "I’m anne , by the way. I’m a singer. I have a performance at a club tonight."

"Luigi," he introduced himself. "I’m an engineer."

"So, are you going to sing your favorite song tonight?" he asked.

"No, not at all. I’m going to sing the song from 'Anchors Aweigh'—

the part where he sings

'Tonight We Love' beneath the moon."

said luigi

"yeah … if only he had completed that version."

that why took challgened to complete that version

Darla chuckled.

"i wonder what is nice , the star or the moon?"

luigi looked up at the sky for a moment before answering. "I prefer the stars. They’re the source of light. The moon shines only because of them. Without the stars, there would be no light, and we

wouldn’t see the moon’s beauty. Poets always talk about the moon but rarely about the stars, even though they’re the reason for the moon’s brightness."

She looked at him, intrigued, then smiled. "What a valid answer."

Then, softly, she began to sing:

"Tonight we love while the stars Beam down in dreamlight…"

As she sang, a taxi approached. She stepped inside, pausing only to

say, "I’ll be at the Mandalay Club tonight."

Luigi watched as the taxi disappeared down the street. He was left standing there, lost in thought.

"What a… she…" he muttered, struggling to describe the moment.

To him, it felt like a rare phenomenon, something that only happens once in a lifetime. He thought he might never see her again—after all, what were the chances? No more taxis seemed to be coming.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" a taxi driver called out.

Luigi snapped out of his daze and quickly got inside. "Mandalay Club. And faster i want you to go ." he said . He wondered does his time come , he thought that he was the only one who want to listen to the complete version of this song ,and now he going to listen it from a girl he had feeling toward her.

Any way luigii the engineer—a man of numbers and blueprints, not poetry—found himself in a place he never expected. The club wasn’t just a restaurant; it had a stage.

At exactly 9 PM, the lights dimmed. A single spotlight illuminated the stage.

And then, there she was.

She stepped forward, radiant in a red dress as deep as a rose in full bloom with her friend sitting in the piano . The moment she began to sing, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

"Tonight, we love while the moon Beams down in dreamlight… Tonight, we touch the stars— Love is ours…".

It struck him like lightning. His lazy slouch disappeared; he leaned forward, engaged, almost reverent. His fingers tapped unconsciously to the rhythm, drawn in as if he were the maestro and she, his soloist.

The club was alive, but not everyone was paying attention. Some patrons were absorbed in their conversations, others focused on their card games or domino matches. At one table, an argument broke out over a lost bet, a small chaos unfolding. Yet, for John, none of that mattered.

To him, she wasn’t just another performer—she was a celestial force. A sun, while the rest of the world was merely a collection of lifeless planets orbiting in insignificance.

When she finished, the silence that followed was deafening. Then, Luigii stood, clapping, lost in the moment, in her, in something he wasn’t sure he had ever believed in.

Then the spell shattered.

"Show us your body, little darling!" a voice slurred from the corner.

"Yeah, dance for us!" another man taunted, followed by drunken laughter.

"Think you’re in an opera house? Girls like you don’t need to sing—just strip and give us a show!"

Her shoulders tensed. The confidence that had once filled her wavered. The engineer saw it—the way her fingers tightened around the microphone, the way the light in her eyes dimmed under their words.

A chair scraped against the floor.

Before he even registered what he was doing, his fist connected with bone.

A sickening crack. A man’s head snapped sideways. Gasps rippled through the room. Blood splattered against the table.

And then—silence.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Because the man slumped against the wall—his lip split, his eyes dark with fury—wasn’t just some drunk heckler.

He was Franco Mandeny.

The owner of the club. The man who ruled the night with a clenched fist.

The engineer, breathing heavily, didn’t care. His eyes flickered only once—to her.

Franco wiped the blood from his mouth and let out a slow, dangerous laugh. "Oh, man… you really don’t know who I am."

The engineer squared his shoulders. "I know exactly who you are—a weak little bastard hiding behind his men."

The laughter stopped.

The air in the club shifted—the kind of change that signaled violence was inevitable.

Franco’s jaw tensed. "Everyone's got their own opinion…" He rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers. "But no one calls me weak."

Then he swung.

His men followed.

The first hit sent the engineer crashing into a table, splintering wood beneath him. The second, the third—he barely felt them.

Then came the gun.

Anne froze, her breath caught in her throat. The pianist grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the exit. She barely resisted—her body moved, but her eyes stayed locked on him. She watched as

Franco loomed over him, pointing the gun straight at his chest.

"Aren't you scared of death?"

The engineer coughed, blood staining his teeth. "If my destiny is to die for love… then so be it."

Franco followed his gaze toward the stage. Empty now. He let out a scoff.

"Lovers and their illusions… people like you are why we always go back to square one."

His grip on the gun tightened.

Then, a chuckle. "You know what? I won't stain my club with your blood."

The engineer, barely conscious, forced out a laugh. "The powerless man and his illusions…"

Franco grinned. "You really don't know when to shut up, huh?" He leaned in. "You're the kind of guy who falls in love with a glimpse of

long hair, only to find out five years later it belonged to a man."

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

"The kind of guy who swears he'd climb a mountain to save a princess—only to run when the dragon appears."

The room roared with amusement.

Franco turned to his men. "Get him out of my club."

They dragged him through the door, throwing him onto the cold pavement like discarded trash.

"I swear," Franco mused, "he reminds me of a guy I once knew.

Swore up and down he’d die for a girl. Went to war for her. Came back a year later to find out she’d been cheating the whole time."

More laughter.

"But guess what?" Franco grinned. "She found out he was cheating too—with not one girl, not two—but four."

The room erupted in cheers. "Drinks on the house until closing!"

Outside, Luiggi lay in the street, barely moving. Passersby glanced at him, shaking their heads, muttering about another drunk fool. They thought he was delirious.

But if they knew what had happened to his heart… they would envy him. If they knew what he had felt in that moment, they would fight with swords just to experience it.

He gazed up at the sky, at the lone blue star shining above.

And thought of her.

To him, she was life—he had been born the moment he spoke to her, found purpose the moment he fought for her.

Anne stood by her window, staring at the same blue star.

She didn't know if he was alive or dead. She hadn’t heard a gunshot after she fled.

Her hands trembled. If I hadn't invited him… nothing would have happened.

She hated herself for running. For leaving him.

To her, he wasn’t the moon.

He was the sun.

His eyes burned like a flaming star—when he looked at her, she could have sung for him until her throat bled.

She had felt alive when she saw him.

And now…

Now, all she could do was wonder if he was still breathing beneath that same sky.

          To her   she lived when she saw him , passionate when she sang for him. 

A week passed. Then a month.  

Anne wandered from hospital to hospital, asking the same question over and over.  

"Did a man come in from Mandely Restaurant? A man injured?"

She scanned the newspapers, searching for obituaries, for any mention of an unnamed victim found on the streets.  

She found nothing.  

At the same time, John searched, too.  

He drifted from restaurant to café, from small theaters to dimly lit bars—anywhere with a stage where someone might sing.  

Each time, he hoped. Each time, he left disappointed.  

But perhaps the universe had other plans.  

Everywhere he went, Darla had been there—just one day before.

It was as if fate was toying with them, keeping them on the same path but never letting them cross.  

During the day, Luigii worked.  

Brick by brick, wood and mortar—he built cities, watching them rise like silent giants.  

But when the shift ended, when the workers left and the site grew quiet, he did something no one else dared.  

He climbed.  

Hand over hand, foot over foot, he scaled the tower crane, reaching its highest point.  

From up there, the city shimmered, golden and restless. He lifted his binoculars, scanning the streets below.  

In every woman he saw, he searched for **her.**  

In every couple walking hand in hand, he imagined **them.**  

The world called him mad.  

Anne friends whispered that she needed therapy.  

But neither of them cared.  

She kept singing, believing that if she became famous, if her voice reached far enough, maybe—**just maybe—**he would find her.  

Another ordinary day. Another shift at work.  

Luiggi leaned against a pile of bricks, wiping sweat from his forehead when something caught his eye.  

A newspaper.  

A tiny article tucked into the last page, barely noticeable.  

His heart **stopped.**  

He snatched the paper from a worker’s hands, his eyes flying over the words.  

**"Anne : The Upcoming Rose—The Spring of Our Souls."**  

His breath hitched.  

The article spoke of her rising fame, her passion for music, her dream of touching people’s hearts.  

But what stunned him most was the last part.  

When the interviewer asked, "What’s your favorite letter?"

She had smiled and said, "X."  

"Why X?"

Her answer made his fingers tremble against the paper.  

"Because of 'Xanadu.' The mythical, idyllic palace of Kublai Khan—associated with luxury, peace, and utopia.  

And to me, that’s love.  

It gives a person peace, utopia, and euphoria." 

luiggi let out a breathless chuckle, half in awe, half in disbelief.  

Because Anne had just given him a clue.  

She was waiting to be found.

Determined to make an unforgettable gesture, Anne bought multiple fireworks.

Days passed, and the building grew taller. Now, it was nearly complete—wooden scaffolding and bricks covered its structure, only a few final touches left before it transformed into something new.

Late one night, Luigii climbed the crane tower once again, a bag filled with fireworks slung over his shoulder. When he reached the top, he grinned, imagining her reaction.

"In the name of love, I’ll launch it," he declared.

He struck the first match and lit the firework. But as he waited, he realized it took longer than expected to ignite. Wanting a continuous display, he hurriedly lit another. And then another. Six in total.

By the time he finished, the first rocket finally launched. It soared high, but just as it reached the sky—nothing. It vanished.

"Damn it. Were they all duds?" he muttered.

Then, suddenly—a brilliant, blazing X exploded across the night sky. The force of the explosion shook the crane violently. luigii lost his balance and barely caught himself, but in the struggle, several fireworks slipped from his bag. Some tumbled into the streets below, others landed on the roof of the unfinished building.

A moment later, chaos erupted.

The fallen fireworks ignited, launching in unpredictable directions like wild particles colliding inside an unstable core. Each explosion formed a luminous X, lighting up the city. One firework even bounced back, disappearing inside the building.

Inside the Building

"What the hell is going on?!" Franco Mandeley shouted.

He and his men had chosen this unfinished structure for a secret deal, assuming it was abandoned—hidden from both the public and the police. But the sudden explosions shattered their illusion of secrecy.

Blinded by the lights and deafened by the thunderous blasts, paranoia set in. "It’s a trap!" one gangster screamed. "The cops set us up!"

Panic turned into violence. The criminals turned on each other, guns drawn, accusations flying. The deafening sound of fireworks was soon drowned out by gunfire.

By the time silence returned, only one man remained—Franco Mandeley, wounded and desperate. He stumbled toward the exit, only to find himself surrounded by flashing red and blue lights.

The police had arrived.

Cornered, Franco went mad. He fired wildly at the officers, refusing to surrender. In his desperation, he grabbed one of the fallen fireworks, attempting to light it like a grenade. But before he could throw it—

BANG!

A single shot ended it.

Above It All

Luigii , still perched atop the crane, laughed to himself, unaware of the chaos below. He was preparing to launch his grand finale—the final firework for Luiggi.

But as he struck the match, he felt himself slipping.

This time, he couldn’t regain his balance.

As he fell, time seemed to slow. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest in the shape of an X, and smiled.

Anne was in a taxi, returning home from a small theater when she saw it—the sky ablaze with the letter X.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"It’s him," she whispered.

The moment was breathtaking, the sound exhilarating. Another X appeared. Then another. It had to be John.

"Driver, hurry! Take me there!" she urged.

Excitement filled her heart—she was finally going to see him again.

But when she arrived, her joy turned to dread.

The street was flooded with police. Ambulances filled the area. Officers guided people away from the scene.

She rushed forward. "What’s happening?!" she cried.

A police officer turned to her. "It seems some gangsters were using this unfinished building for illegal dealings, thinking no one would notice. But thanks to the guy who launched those fireworks, we caught them. He sacrificed himself to reveal their hideout."

Her breath hitched. "Sacrificed?"

Her eyes darted to a stretcher being carried toward an ambulance. The moment she saw the man lying there, her worst fear came true.

"No… no, no, no!"

She ran to him, her heart shattering. His body was battered, his condition severe. Tears streamed down her face as she noticed how his arms were positioned—crossed over his chest, forming the letter X over his heart.

"Oh, luiggi … I wish I could have told you I loved you. I wish I never left. I wish we had more time ."And give him the last kiss .

News of luiggi sacrifice spread like wildfire.

The city mourned the lover and the fighter. At his funeral, countless people gathered, including Anne . During the moment of silence, they honored him—not by placing their hands over their hearts, but by crossing their arms into an X over their chests.

And from that day on, in this city, love was no longer symbolized by a heart.

It was an X—a mark of devotion, of sacrifice, of a love that would never be forgotten.

And the unfinished building?

They left it standing, untouched.

A monument to love. A symbol of The Xanadu Building.  

When Anne finished singing the pianist changed the music As Francis sang, "love me tender, love me dear

ove me tender, love me true

All my dreams fulfill

For my darlin', I love you

Anne my moon will you marry me 

the light of club switch on him 

‘oh francis ‘ 

she descend from the stage like an angel and the other light of club was moving along with her and start to sang 

Love me tender, love me true .," 

love me tender, love me dear

Tell me you are mine” 

and when she got closer to him both of them sang in same time 

ll be yours through all the years

Till the end of time 

of course my star francis i will marry you 

then start to kiss their first kiss as husband and wife 

as a star and a moon 

at same the choir version of the end part of the love me tender was played by the people who rented them francis who were sitting in the club as normal visitor

. The crowd clapped and cheered for this beautiful celebration. 

Then his subconscious mind appeared to him like the paint of me and the devil. "Look at yourself again luigii . You talking to me again, making up scenarios. You see, Francis was the real man. You see franco Just the shadow cast by your jealousy. The villain had never existed outside of your own mind.

 In reality, the confrontation had been nothing more than a casual exchange. Anne was already in a relationship. The taxi that had stopped wasn’t taking her away—it had simply pulled up in front of Francis’ car, where he had been waiting for her.

“your all alone luigi”

All this unfolded as Luiggi watched, his heart heavy, his voice trembling as he quietly and tears was about to fell from his eye as he sang I Fall in Love Too Easily by Frank Sinatra. 

And he get out from the restaurant as invisible guy nobody notice him.He looked to sky to notice there was no stars and moon , it was void as his heart