Lord of Entertainment Side Story C3 Backstory +Bonus Song

(Firfel POV)

I still remember the day Sylwen left.

I was only thirteen. She walked out of our home with nothing but a cold goodbye, choosing to face the world alone.

I cried that night.

By the time I turned fifteen, I made up my mind—I would leave too. My mother, Delaney, the so-called Queen of Roses, was furious.

“You’re abandoning your life as a princess to live like some wandering peasant?” she snapped. “Don’t be foolish!”

But I just smiled, turned my back on her throne and her rules, and walked away.

I was going to find my sister. No matter what.

For a year, I wandered through the kingdoms of the Evros Continent, chasing whispers, rumors—anything that might lead me to Sylwen.

But something else happened along the way. I discovered a passion I never expected: acting.

I found myself enthralled by performances in village plays and grand theaters alike. I wanted to be up there. I wanted to become someone the world could remember.

But no one took me seriously.

Despite my looks, my charm—every studio in Evros turned me down. I couldn’t understand why at first. Then I learned the truth.

My mother was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

She was blocking every opportunity I had.

“I’ll become an actress and find my sister,” I swore to myself.

So I left Evros entirely. I crossed into the demon realm—into the mighty Morningstar Empire, deep in the Anatolia Continent.

There, my mother had no reach.

Or so I thought.

Studios were more willing to take me in, yes—but most of them were crawling with lecherous producers. Some even tried to force themselves on me.

Luckily for them, I had the strength to fight back. Being an elf had its advantages—especially when it came to magic.

Still, the path wasn’t easy. Eventually, I found an agency that accepted all races. That’s when things started to change.

I landed a few roles, started earning a stable income.

But something was missing. Two things, really.

My sister… and a true breakthrough in my career.

Yes, I was making a living—but I wanted more. I didn’t just want to be in films. I wanted to star in a masterpiece.

But demon cinema was… lacking. Their productions couldn’t compare to those of humans, elves, even dwarves.

I started thinking maybe I’d need to return to a human nation to chase my dream.

Then, something unexpected happened.

I came across a script titled Demonfather.

Curious, I auditioned—and was shocked to find that the director was none other than Arthur Morningstar, the so-called trash prince of the demon empire.

At first, I laughed. I doubted him, like everyone else.

But once filming began, I realized how wrong I was.

He shattered all my expectations.

When Demonfather finally hit the screens… it exploded in popularity. A masterpiece. A triumph.

I was overjoyed—but I thought that would be the end of it.

Then Arthur called me again. He bought out my contract from my agency and brought me into another film.

Another masterpiece.

And just like that, I found my home.

Years have passed. I’m part of Hellfire Agency now, part of the Hellfire Studio legacy.

Looking back… I’m grateful.

Grateful I met Arthur.

‘He is my light.’

Yes, we’re together now. He’s my boyfriend. But… besides kisses and small touches, we haven’t gone further.

Not yet.

I made myself a promise.

I won’t give myself completely to anyone—not until I’ve found my sister.

It may sound strange, even selfish, but I can’t rest easy. I can’t give myself fully to love when part of my heart still belongs to someone I lost long ago.

My sister. Sylwen.

I have to find her first...

I still remember that day.

We were under the old willow tree behind the palace gardens — me and Sylwen — our arms tangled in wildflowers, our cheeks sun-kissed and freckled. The wind played with our hair as we lay in the grass, eyes fixed on the sky.

“Look, that one looks like a rabbit,” I said, pointing.

“No, it’s totally a crown,” Sylwen giggled, poking my side.

We argued. We laughed. Then we started humming.

It was our song — the one we made up, just the two of us. We sang it every time the sky was blue or when the moon looked fat and sleepy.

Sylwen sat up and sang the first line with a crooked smile:

“Under the tree where the sky is blue,
Me and you go peek-a-boo…”

I chimed in, swinging my legs,
“Clouds go sailing, shapes go fly—
Is that a dragon or a pie?”

We laughed at that one. Sylwen always insisted it was a pie. I always argued it was a flying squirrel.

She lay back again, brushing dandelions off her skirt, and together we sang in unison:

“Tickle grass and dandelion feet,
Sunshine giggles, hearts go beat.
You say ‘look!’ and I say ‘where?’
We chase the wind that isn’t there.”

That was always our favorite part.

Our voices rose gently in the open air as we sang the chorus with arms stretched toward the clouds:

“La-la-la, the world is wide,
But right now, you’re by my side.
Hold my hand and count to three—
We’ll fly up past the tallest tree.”

The sun slowly dipped, and the shadows stretched. The breeze turned cooler. Sylwen hugged her knees and whispered:

“Then the sky turns dark and deep,
Stars tip-toe where dreams go sleep…”

I joined her, slower this time, humming the tune between the words.

“You talk soft, I hum slow,
‘Do big people always know?’”

We kept going. The moon had just peeked through a patch of cloud, its glow like a quiet secret.

“The moon is big, but not so loud,
It hides behind a pillow cloud.
We promise stuff with pinky ties,
Like catching stars and telling lies…”

Her voice was quiet, but I still remember the way she looked at me — not just as a big sister, but like someone promising she'd always be there.

The wind picked up. I remember clutching her hand, our fingers cold, but not letting go.

We whispered the next part together, eyes closed.

“Ooooh…
We climb the moon and ride the air,
Look down at the world, it’s still there.
So small, so round, so full of light,
But kinda lonely in the night…”

And finally, our voices faded into the rustle of the grass and the sway of the tree:

“La-la-la, the dream will fade,
Like morning sun and lemonade.
If we forget, just close your eyes—
The moon tree waits in lullabies…”

Then came our silly outro. We tapped the ground with our heels like we were playing an invisible piano.

“Tip-tap keys go drift and play,
Nighttime colors melt away.
I’ll find you in a dream again,
Where cloud-shapes smile and never end.”

That was the last time we sang it together.

She left not long after that. I never got the chance to sing it with her again.

But I never forgot.

And now… as I walked toward the place Arthur told me to go, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

He’d texted me earlier on the Hellphone.

‹I have a surprise for you. One of your long-time wishes — I’m going to fulfill it.›

My hands trembled when I read those words.

Aside from becoming a great actress, there was only one other wish that lived in my heart all these years — finding my sister.

‘Could it be... did Arthur actually find Sylwen?’

The hope stirred something deep inside me. I tried to stay calm, tried to prepare myself in case it was just another one of Arthur’s extravagant surprises — a new role, another masterpiece in the making.

But this time… something felt different.

I clutched my chest and whispered in my heart,

‘Please… please let it be her.’

---

(Sylwen POV)

I’m about to meet her… after all these years.

My heart felt twisted with emotions I couldn’t even name.

Why was I avoiding her for so long?

Was it guilt — for leaving her alone in that cold, gilded castle?

Or was it fear — that she’d look at me now and see someone she couldn’t recognize?

She walked in the light. I moved in the shadows.

And I’ve grown too used to the dark.

I clenched my fists.

After I left the castle, I joined an organization that demanded secrecy, silence, sacrifice.
They asked for a code name. I chose “Lala.”
It was silly — childish even — but it reminded me of our song.

That song we used to hum beneath the tree, guessing cloud shapes and chasing wind.

“Firfel…” I whispered to myself.

The memory stung, and my throat tightened. My eyes burned.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

And there — standing there — was a woman with the same silver hair as mine. Grown, radiant… but unmistakably her.

Firfel.

She froze at the doorway, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Sy… Sylwen?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the words through the ache in my chest.
“…Firfel.”