Chapter 27: New Beginnings

The golden light of late afternoon spilled across the streets of Sweetdance City, painting long shadows across the pavement as Conrad and Magali walked side by side. The chaos of the council building was behind them now—its towering spires, its sterile halls, its heavy truths—and yet silence stretched between them like a thread drawn tight.

Conrad moved with a slight limp, his shirt swaying with each step, one hand tucked casually into his pocket. But even so, he held his head high, as if daring the world to see him as anything less than whole. Magali walked just a pace behind, her fingers clutching the hem of her sleeve, the words she hadn't spoken yet swelling like a tide behind her ribs.

They passed the familiar curve of the city plaza, the same space where their journey had begun. It should have felt like coming home. But all Magali felt was the slow churn of guilt. Her throat tightened.

She stopped walking.

Conrad didn't notice at first—he kept on a few steps more before realizing she wasn't beside him. He turned, eyebrows raised. "Mags?"

She stood still, her eyes lowered to the concrete beneath her shoes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Conrad blinked. "What?"

"I should've told you everything from the start. If I hadn't waited… if I had trusted you sooner, none of this would've happened." Her voice wavered. "You wouldn't have been hurt. And now… now because of me, you'll never get back on stage."

The city noise faded into a dull hum. Conrad stepped toward her, slow and steady. He gently reached out and touched her hand.

"Mags," he said, his voice soft but unwavering. "I meant what I said to the council. Every word. If I had to go through it all again—every fight, every scar—I would. If it meant protecting you."

She looked up at him then, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "But your career—your passion…"

"I've been chasing the stage all my life," he said, smiling, "but you're the first thing I ever fought for."

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering against her skin. "I don't regret any of it. Because it brought me here. With you."

And for the first time since the storm had broken, Magali felt the weight on her heart begin to ease. The future was still uncertain. But here, in this moment, a new beginning had already begun.

Magali smiled softly as they continued down the quiet city street, the faint neon glow of Sweetdance casting shifting colors across the sidewalk. Despite everything he'd endured, Conrad never once let the pain cloud his features. All he cared about was easing her guilt. That familiar warmth he carried, the strength beneath the charm, made her heart ache in the best way.

Wanting to shift the mood, she cleared her throat and nudged him playfully with her elbow. "So," she said, glancing sideways at him, "what are you gonna do with all that council restitution money? You know, since you're now Sweetdance's most charming and officially compensated hero?"

He chuckled, his smile tilting in that crooked way that always made her feel lighter. "Thinking of investing in glitter stocks. I hear they're booming."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Be serious, Conrad. You could open a shop—something with music, maybe. Like a place where new idols can buy good instuments. Or, ooh, what about a dance school? You teach movement, I teach performance. We shape the next generation of stars and prevent them from making the same dumb mistakes we did."

He looked thoughtful, genuinely considering it, but then shook his head gently. "They're great ideas, Mags. They really are. But I was thinking about something a little more… quiet."

Magali raised an eyebrow. "Quiet? What?"

Conrad turned toward her, his eyes softer than the fading streetlights. "I want to buy a house. In the Homestead District."

"A house?" she echoed, surprised. "Why a house?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at the stars barely visible beyond the reach of city lights, his voice low and steady when he finally spoke. "Because a house can be more than a roof. It can be a crew. A place where people come home—not just to rest, but to belong. And I want that with you."

Magali stopped walking, her breath catching. "Wait… are you saying you want to live with me in your house?"

Conrad turned, his smile widening with a hint of bashfulness. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

She gasped, a bright, happy sound bursting from her chest. "Oh my god—can we invite Ryu and Tarlya too?!"

Conrad laughed, the sound warm and full. "Of course. The more the merrier."

And as they stood together beneath the glow of the city, hands entwined and hearts wide open, the idea of a home—of their home—began to take root.

By the time they reached Ryu's crew hall, the city had settled into its quiet rhythm—cars hummed softly outside, neon signs blinked like sleepy eyes, and the night air carried the faint scent of spices and street food. The crew hall was dimly lit, cozy, and well-worn in a way that made it feel more like a sanctuary than a battleground. Inside, Ryu was sitting on a sunken couch, a blanket draped over his legs. Beside him, Tarlya slept curled against his side, her tiny body rising and falling with every quiet snore.

Magali's heart melted instantly. "She's gotten so big…"

"She's a tyrant," Ryu said softly, but his voice carried nothing but love. He gently rubbed the baby's back with two fingers, his touch feather-light. "But she's my tyrant."

Conrad stepped forward, leaning slightly on his cane. "We came to ask you something."

Ryu glanced up, his expression curious.

"We're buying a house," Magali said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. "In the Homestead District. Somewhere quiet, but still close to everything. And… we want you and Tarlya to come with us. To live with us."

Ryu looked surprised, but not in a bad way. His smile was warm, grateful. He glanced down at his daughter, then back up at them. "You guys… that means a lot. Really. But I'm gonna have to say no."

Magali blinked. "Why?"

He shifted a bit on the couch, careful not to disturb Tarlya. "This little one's my whole world right now. She needs all my time, all my focus. I can't be the best crewmate, or housemate, or whatever else—not when my days are filled with diapers and lullabies."

"But it wouldn't be a burden," Conrad said, stepping closer. "We'd help. You wouldn't have to do it all alone."

Ryu smiled again, this time with a quiet sort of wisdom in his eyes. "I know. But this isn't about needing help. It's about you two. You just started this relationship." He glanced meaningfully between them. "You deserve time to figure it out without distractions. To grow together. Build your rhythm. You don't need a crying baby in the next room reminding you to sleep with one eye open."

Magali opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked down at Tarlya, who let out a tiny hiccup in her sleep, then to Ryu, who looked so at peace, even in exhaustion.

"We'll still visit all the time," Conrad promised.

"You better," Ryu said, chuckling. "Just don't feel like you have to carry me with you. I've got my own journey. And right now, it's all about her."

Magali stepped forward and gently touched Ryu's shoulder. "We love you, you know."

"I know," he said, his voice soft. "I love you both too."

For a moment, the three of them just sat in the quiet—a trio of survivors, each carrying their scars and dreams in different ways. And in the center of it all, Tarlya snored on, blissfully unaware of the world that had changed so much to keep her safe.

The morning light filtered softly through the windows of the crew hall, casting warm golden streaks across the wooden floor. A quiet hush had settled over the space, as if the building itself understood that something was changing—something big.

Magali sat curled up on the couch, still in her pajamas, a steaming mug of coffee balanced between her hands. Across from her, Conrad leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, staring silently at the blank stretch of wall in front of him. Neither had spoken much since returning from Ryu's place the night before.

Magali finally broke the silence, her voice gentle. "Do you… still want to buy the house?"

Conrad didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers folding and unfolding as he thought. Ryu's words had hit harder than he'd let on. It wasn't the refusal itself—it was what it represented. A fragment of their once-whole crew choosing to stand apart. But after a moment, he looked up at Magali. And when their eyes met, something steady sparked between them.

"Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "I still want to. Maybe he'll join us when Tarlya gets older."

Magali smiled softly, her chest rising with quiet hope. "He will," she said confidently. "He's part of this family. We'll be together again. Just… not all at once."

Conrad stood, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs before grabbing his hoodie off the back of a chair.

"I need to go do something important," he said, pulling the hoodie over his head. "Can you set up an appointment with the real estate agent?"

Magali gave a brisk nod. "You got it."

As the door clicked shut behind him, she leaned over to the coffee table and picked up her phone. Her fingers hovered briefly above the screen before she pulled up the contact for the city's real estate office. A smile curved on her lips as she tapped the call button. It was time to find a place to call home.

Later that afternoon, they headed out together for their appointment. The city bustled around them—a tapestry of honking cars, distant music, and the occasional chatter of street performers warming up for the day. Conrad and Magali walked side by side along the cracked sidewalks of Sweetdance City, the real estate office just a few blocks ahead.

Magali moved with quiet confidence, her shoulder-length brown hair swaying with each step, kept neatly in place by her iconic yellow hairband. She wore a smart, business-casual blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks that complimented her figure without trying too hard, paired with soft mustard heels that clicked lightly on the pavement. Her deep blue eyes were sharp with anticipation, but there was warmth there too—a spark that lit every glance she stole at Conrad.

Magali clutched the satchel of gems close to her side, the soft jingle of the contents providing a strange sort of rhythm to their steps. Curiosity tugged at her, and as they paused at a crosswalk, she loosened the flap and peeked inside. Her brow furrowed.

"Hey, Conrad," she said, holding the satchel open for him to see. "Wasn't there more gems in here yesterday?"

Conrad gave a quick nod, unbothered. "Yeah. I bought something earlier."

Magali tilted her head, curious now. "What did you buy?"

He turned toward her, offering a small, secretive smile. "It's a surprise. You'll find out soon enough."

She stared at him for a beat longer, trying to read between the lines of his expression, but it gave nothing away. With a soft sigh, she closed the satchel and let it fall back against her hip.

"Alright," she said, her voice light, though tinged with a hint of resignation. "Just… I hope it's not something completely ridiculous."

He smirked. "Would I ever do that?"

She arched a brow. "Do you want an honest answer mister glitter socks?"

Conrad laughed, the sound chasing away the tension like sunlight through fog. Magali smiled despite herself. It was his money, after all—and maybe, just maybe, the surprise would be worth it.

The real estate office was nestled on the corner of a quiet street just outside the bustling shopping district—an older building with ivy curling around the windows and a brass bell that jingled as Magali and Conrad stepped inside. The walls were lined with framed photos of happy couples holding keys, most of them smiling with a mix of relief and excitement. It smelled faintly of old books, coffee, and air freshener trying to mask both.

Behind the front desk sat an elderly man in a neatly pressed vest and a bolo tie shaped like a treble clef. His snowy white hair was combed back, and a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. He glanced up, eyes lighting with practiced charm.

"Well, well—two new faces," he said, rising with the grace of someone who'd once danced across stages. "Name's Dorian. Used to be an idol back in the silver age. These days, I help folks find homes instead of hitting high notes."

Conrad smiled and extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dorian. I'm Conrad, and this is Mags—Magali."

Dorian's handshake was firm and warm. "Conrad… the name rings a bell. You wouldn't happen to be the Conrad Howard, would you?"

"Guilty as charged," Conrad said with a humble shrug.

"Well, you're not the first idol to settle down in the Homestead," Dorian said, gesturing for them to take a seat at his desk. "So—what are we looking for? Apartment? Cottage? Something with a balcony and a view?"

Conrad leaned forward, his tone steady. "A house in the Homestead District. Something modern. Plenty of room to grow. An updated kitchen, modest yard, nothing too flashy—but accessible. We want easy travel into the city when needed."

Dorian gave a slow nod, tapping his pen against a notepad. "Sounds like a dream setup. But I'll be honest with you, son… homes like that don't come cheap. Especially not in Homestead. Most folks your age tend to—"

Before he could finish, Conrad placed the satchel on the table. The weight of it thudded softly against the wood.

Magali sat back, arms crossed, watching the old man's expression shift.

Dorian paused. Then unfastened the flap with a practiced hand, peeking inside. His eyebrows rose almost comically. "Well now," he breathed, clearly stunned by the glittering gems within. "Executive currency, is it? I haven't seen this much sparkle since the Sapphire Revue in '78."

Conrad gave a polite smile. "So… you think we can find something?"

Dorian's face broke into a wide grin. "My boy, with this kind of budget, I can show you houses that'll make your heart sing. Let's not waste any time. You two ready for a tour of Homestead's finest?"

Magali leaned toward Conrad, whispering, "I guess this old gem trade thing does have its perks."

He smirked. And with that, Dorian was already flipping through his digital listings, whistling an old show tune as he began to set up their first tours.

The next several hours unfolded like a reality show on fast forward, complete with dramatic reveals, disappointed reactions, and plenty of side commentary.

The first house was charming on the outside—white picket fence, brick chimney, flower boxes beneath the windows—but once inside, they barely had room to breathe. The ceilings were low, the rooms were narrow, and Conrad nearly bumped his head on a ceiling beam.

"Cozy," Dorian offered diplomatically.

"It's a shoe box," Magali muttered.

"Hey, at least it's got character," Conrad added, peeking into a pantry the size of a coat closet. "Haunted character." They didn't even finish the full tour.

The second house had the opposite problem. It was massive—an over-the-top mansion with mirrored columns and a sweeping staircase that looked like it belonged in a soap opera.

"I feel like I need heels just to enter this place," Magali whispered.

"You're wearing heels," Conrad pointed out.

"Exactly. And they're still not tall enough."

They toured in awkward silence while Dorian rattled off luxury features neither of them asked for: a wine cellar, a ballroom, and even a private helipad.

"Does this place come with a cleaning crew?" Conrad asked.

"You'd need one," Magali deadpanned. "And a butler. And a second butler to manage the first one."

Next up was a sleek, ultra-modern townhouse with glossy floors, motion-sensor lights, and an open-concept everything. But the moment they stepped outside, Dorian gestured vaguely across the quiet hills and said, "Nearest transit hub's about a twenty-minute drive."

Both Conrad and Magali stared blankly. "A drive?" Magali asked.

Conrad frowned. "We don't… drive."

Dorian blinked. "You're city idols. How do you not—"

"We dance, we sing, we fight crime occasionally," Magali said. "But neither of us ever got a license."

Dorian sighed. "All right. Cross that one off."

The fourth house had potential—clean lines, nice flow, even a decent kitchen—but the neighborhood was so quiet it felt eerie. Not a person in sight. Magali raised an eyebrow as they stood in the front yard.

"I'm pretty sure I saw this in a horror movie once."

"Right before the couple gets devoured by sentient mailboxes," Conrad added.

By the fifth tour, even Dorian was starting to look worn out. His binder was thinner now, and his once-upbeat commentary had shifted into muttered prayers and half-jokes.

Still, through it all, Magali and Conrad kept their spirits up—laughing at cracked tiles, turning nose-wrinkling bathrooms into inside jokes, and occasionally dancing together through empty living rooms just to see how the acoustics felt.

They didn't find their dream home that day. But they did find a rhythm—shared glances, quiet smiles, and the kind of growing understanding that no blueprint could build.

The next day brought gentler sunlight and the faint scent of dew on the Homestead breeze. Magali stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly on the stone path as she followed Dorian up the short walkway toward yet another house. But this one… felt different.

It wasn't extravagant or grand. In fact, it was the smallest one they'd seen yet—a cozy one-story home with pale blue siding and ivy curling along the trim. A tiny porch wrapped around the front, and the wind made the hanging swing creak softly, like a lullaby.

Magali's eyes lit up before they even stepped inside. The interior was bright, with sun-dappled floors and an open kitchen just big enough to hold quiet mornings and shared dinners. Through the back windows, a tidy little yard stretched out, bordered by a picket fence and shaded by a wide tree. Magali pressed her hand against the glass, already imagining where the garden beds would go.

"I like this one," she said, glancing at Conrad. "It's small, but… it feels right. That swing is adorable, and I could get to Dance Square in fifteen minutes flat. We could really build something here."

She turned to him with hopeful eyes. "Can we get it?"

Conrad was quiet for a moment, studying the light as it filtered through the kitchen window. Then, with a small shake of his head, he gave her a crooked smile. "No," he said gently. "Not this one."

Magali blinked. "Why not?"

"Because I have a better idea." He motioned for Dorian to follow and stepped outside, pointing down the street. "There's a house just a few doors down—one we didn't tour. I saw the sign yesterday, but it wasn't in your catalog. Can we see it?"

Dorian adjusted his glasses and squinted toward the other property. "Ah… that one? I believe it was just listed. Technically it's still in the paperwork stage, but yes—I can make a call."

Magali raised an eyebrow, still watching Conrad. "You saw it yesterday?"

Conrad shrugged, lips curling into a soft, secretive smile. "Let's just say… I have a feeling."

Magali crossed her arms, eyes narrowing playfully. "You're keeping secrets again."

He grinned. "Just one more. Trust me, Mags. You're gonna love this one."

The house was quiet as they stepped through it, their footsteps echoing softly on polished wood floors. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching the golden threads in the den's curtains. It had everything—the swing out front, the garden-ready backyard, the bright and breezy kitchen that Magali had loved in the last home. But this one stood taller, prouder. Two full stories, with enough rooms to house not just a couple, but a future.

They moved through each space with slow wonder, their voices hushed like they were walking through something sacred. Upstairs, the bedrooms offered cozy corners and clean lines. A wide den with a fireplace downstairs practically begged for music and laughter.

When the tour ended, Conrad looked at Dorian and nodded firmly. "Let's start the paperwork. I want to buy it."

Dorian's eyes lit up behind his glasses. "Excellent choice, Mr. Howard. I'll get things moving right away." He shook hand and with a respectful nod to Magali, made his way back toward the car.

Magali lingered in the hallway, hands folded in front of her, brow creased in thoughtful curiosity. When the front door clicked shut, she turned to Conrad.

"I really do love this house," she said softly, "but… it's a little bigger than we need. Do you think Ryu will change his mind about moving in with us?"

Conrad didn't answer right away. He crossed his arms, eyes sweeping across the sunlit walls as if imagining a scene that hadn't happened yet. Then, quietly, with a shrug of nonchalance that didn't match the weight of his words, he said, "I just want to have room to grow. In case we have kids."

Magali blinked. Her breath caught. "Kids?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the word itself was too delicate to say out loud.

Conrad finally looked at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I don't want to outgrow the place the moment life changes. I want us to have space—for dreams, for family, for whatever comes next."

Magali turned away from him, cheeks flushed a soft pink that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. She crossed her arms and gave a sharp little huff.

"Conrad, stop joking around," she said, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. "We can't be talking about kids already!"

"Why not?" he asked, his tone maddeningly casual.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead, her fingers began to fidget, twisting the hem of her sleeve. "Because… we need to… you know…" She trailed off, voice barely a whisper. "Get married first."

"Then let's get married."

The words landed like a thunderclap. She whipped around, heart stumbling in her chest—just in time to see him already down on one knee. A small velvet box rested in his palm. When he opened it, a single diamond sparkled inside, kissed by slivers of golden sunlight that filtered through the nearby trees.

Magali froze. Her breath hitched. Her hands rose to her mouth, as if to catch the gasp that escaped her.

Conrad smiled—genuine, nervous, and just a little crooked. "Mags… I know this is sudden. I know these last few months have been a whirlwind of fights, council hearings, and more than one near-death experience. But through all of it—every chaotic, impossible second—there's one thing I never once doubted."

He looked her in the eyes, voice quiet but steady. "And that's us."

He took a breath, the kind people take before jumping into something that will change everything. "Remember how we met? You were completely lost—and two seconds away from being arrested. But then I lied to the cops and dragged you into that ridiculous cab ride."

Magali laughed behind her hands, eyes glimmering through the mist gathering at their edges.

"You almost hated me. And honestly, I wouldn't have blamed you. But I knew, even then, that you were special. That you had something worth chasing. So I followed you. I brought you to my crew."

His smile deepened, soft and full of memory. "We had so many adventures, didn't we? With Seasons, your sister Zoila and Lannabelle, Khefner and Ryu… And all those nights in the crew, finding harmony in all the chaos. You and me—every gig, every late night curled up in the lounge, every dumb argument about dinner, every dance floor we ever set on fire."

He reached for her hand, voice thickening just slightly. "I love you, Mags. I've loved you for a long time."

The world fell quiet around them.

"So I'm asking—marry me. Let's build something that lasts. Let's make a home together. Let's make this life ours."

For a moment, she didn't move. Her eyes welled, breath shaking. Then silence stretched on too long.

Conrad's hopeful smile dimmed. His shoulders dipped slightly as he looked down at the ring. "You know what… this was a dumb idea. I probably should've waited. Maybe we need more time and—"

"Yes." The word came out small. Fragile. Then louder. "Yes!"

She dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around him. "Yes, you idiot!"

Conrad laughed, overcome, as she kissed him hard—tears and joy and disbelief all tangled up in that one moment. Sunlight bathed them in gold, the ring still glinting between their tangled hands.

They stood together, the world narrowing to just the two of them. With careful hands, Conrad slid the ring onto Magali's finger. The gem caught the sunlight, scattering it into tiny stars between them—a quiet promise cast in diamond and gold. It wasn't just a ring. It was a vow. A beginning. They weren't just buying a house anymore. They were building a new life free of drama and worries.