Dante surveyed the space with a piercing gaze. He knew the construction of the theater would take time, and an idea came to him—unexpectedly, almost like a temporary solution. Why not create a provisional space for Svetlana? A place where she could dance. Where she could rehearse her routines. A space where he could watch her without anyone else interfering.

Suddenly, it became clear.

“Clear this space,” he ordered firmly, as if he already saw the finished vision in his mind. His voice carried authority, but there was something else beneath it—something more personal, more intense.

The workers sprang into action without question. They didn’t need further instructions.

“Mirrors,” he commanded, and the sound of tools echoing in the empty room was music to his ears. “Cover every wall. Wooden floors. Soft lighting—but bright enough to catch every movement.”

They would use materials intended for the theater, but he’d worry about replacing them later.

His eyes swept across the room, visuali