"Is that the druggie composer?"
As soon as the venomous words launched from Nico Tealeaf's mouth, a ripple of turning heads began to spread through the immediate VIP circle. With all of those calculating, high-society eyes suddenly fixed entirely on them, Percival didn't react with anger. He didn't even react with surprise.
Instead, he comically turned his head, looking over his own shoulder as if he were genuinely trying to see exactly who Nico was talking to.
A soft, highly amused ripple of laughter could be heard from the surrounding executives.
Percival turned back, tilting his head slightly beneath his mask. "Who are you talking to?"
The effortless, deadpan taunt caused Nico's fragile ego to completely shatter. His emotions spiked violently. He shoved past Briane's defensive stance, walking right up into Percival's personal space. Nico reached out and forcefully grabbed the pristine lapels of Percival's silver-accented suit, his face flushing dark red.
"Are you mocking me, you scum?" Nico snarled, his breath smelling heavily of champagne.
Floating invisibly just above their heads, Aphrodite let out a bloodcurdling, divine shriek.
"Let me strike him down, cousin!" the Goddess of Beauty screamed, her ethereal form glowing with a terrifying, destructive aura. "I will turn his miserable mortal bones into absolute dust!"
Percival didn't even blink. He stared down at Nico's white-knuckled grip on his collar. 'Don't,' Percival commanded in his mind, his mental voice calm and absolute. 'Do nothing.'
Percival slowly looked around the room. He knew exactly what the people surrounding them were thinking. In a normal place; even down in the brutal, sunless bottom floors of Nexus Prime where he grew up, people would immediately jump in to break up a fight.
But here, in the glittering heights of Sela, the ultra-rich were predators. They would only observe. They were waiting to see how Mar Raila would react, calculating the exact timing and political weight of the confrontation before they dared to intervene.
Percival couldn't help but let out a long, weary sigh. The absolute cowardice of high society was exhausting.
"Nico!" Briane snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. "Get off of him!"
But before she could physically push him away, a deep, commanding voice echoed from the crowd.
"Nico Tealeaf."
It was Ezil Zesel, the Qerrian CEO of Zesel Music Entertainment, the corporate behemoth that had recently deconstructed Goldclick Records. Ezil stepped out of the shadows, his expression completely unreadable as he looked intently at his disgraced artist.
Nico seemed to catch the heavy, terrifying weight of his boss's gaze. He immediately released his grip on Percival's suit, stepping back like a scolded dog.
Ezil walked closer, his dark eyes never leaving the masked composer. He reached out with a large hand and smoothly brushed the wrinkled fabric of Percival's lapel.
"My, my," Ezil said softly, his voice a low rumble. "It seems my artist scrunched up your suit a bit, kid."
Percival looked at the CEO through his mask. His mind was already moving ten steps ahead. It seemed this entire confrontation had been carefully orchestrated. He glanced at Nico, who looked sweaty and entirely unprepared for the sudden corporate pressure.
No, Nico hadn't planned this. Ezil had simply brought Nico to the gala specifically to see what would happen if he threw him into the same room as the Composer. And like a complete idiot, Nico had walked right into Ezil's scheme.
Percival exhaled slowly, deliberately maintaining his relaxed posture. "No worries. I've got countless more suits on my ship."
Ezil tapped him firmly on the shoulder, a wide, razor-sharp smile spreading across his face. "Of course, of course. A competent person should always have backups."
With the immediate matter 'handled' by the CEO, the surrounding crowd began to drift back to their own conversations. However, for the next several minutes, the low murmurs in the room would be entirely focused on dissecting the brief clash between Percival and the fallen ZME artist.
Ezil kept his hand resting lightly on Percival's shoulder. "It is nice to see you here. Are you Ms. Briane's plus-one tonight, kid?"
Percival didn't flinch under the massive Qerrian's grip. He simply looked up at him. "Call me properly."
The thick, dreadlock-like tendrils on Ezil's head swayed as he threw his head back and laughed hard, a booming sound that drew more eyes.
"Ah, yes!" Ezil grinned, thoroughly enjoying the pushback. "I called you 'Composer' the last time we met on that fateful night. Very well, Composer. Are you her plus-one?"
"No, sir," Briane stepped in smoothly, maintaining her icy, professional facade. "I came here entirely alone."
Percival took a slow sip of his champagne, ensuring his voice carried to the surrounding listeners. "I came here on a personal invitation from Mar Raila."
The casual reveal sent a fresh shockwave through the nearby guests. They had all assumed the reclusive composer had simply been sent a generic, label-wide invitation. A personal invitation from the CEO of EMG was an entirely different level of power. It meant he was favored.
Ezil's smile dangerously for a second. He looked across the room toward the main VIP circle. "Ah. So it seems."
From the edge of the crowd, the sea of executives naturally parted. Mar Raila, having watched the entire exchange from afar, began to walk purposefully toward them, her imposing presence cutting through the room like the bow of a battleship.
Percival's mind churned rapidly. 'What now?' he thought miserably, looking down at his half-empty glass. 'I just wanted to try the weird Selanian snacks and drink expensive water.'
Mar Raila glided to a halt in front of the tense circle, her dark, predatory eyes immediately locking onto the masked composer.
"Well," Raila purred, a highly amused smirk playing on her lips. "Aren't you a scene magnet, Composer?"
Ezil Zesel didn't back down. He offered a courteous, entirely hollow nod. "Why are you not with your plus-one, Raila?"
"It's a party," Raila waved a manicured hand dismissively. "He can do whatever he wants. Besides, the real entertainment seems to be over here."
"That is unlike you at all," Ezil noted with a low, rumbling chuckle. He then gestured to the seething young man beside him. "Ah, also. I don't believe you've officially crossed paths recently. This is Nico Tealeaf."
Raila didn't even fully turn her head to look at him. She just cast a brief, sidelong glance. "The rising star that fell out of orbit. Of course."
Nico aggressively ground his teeth together, his jaw visibly ticking beneath his mask.
Ezil stepped slightly in front of Nico. "Then he orbited into mine, Raila. Is it really falling when a star simply changes its course?"
Raila let out a soft, mocking fufufu. "You tell me, Ezil."
While the two titans of the music industry engaged in their high-stakes, passive-aggressive verbal sparring, Briane glanced back over her shoulder to check on Percival.
Her summer-sky eyes widened in sheer horror.
In the mere three minutes that Ezil and Raila had been talking, Percival had silently flagged down three different passing Compadre units. He had already downed six more glasses of vintage, incredibly potent Selanian champagne.
"Composer!" Briane hissed under her breath, frantically stepping closer to him. "I told you to tell me if you wanted to drink more!"
Percival slowly turned his head to look at her. His posture was no longer rigid and professional. It was slightly loose. The heavy, suffocating pressure of the executives' scheming had driven him straight to the bottom of the crystal flutes.
"I–" Percival started.
HIC!
A loud, entirely un-glamorous hiccup erupted from the Composer, echoing sharply into the sudden silence of the circle.
Both Ezil and Mar Raila stopped their verbal sparring, turning their heads to stare at the masked prodigy.
Percival held his gaze up, looking between the Qerrian ZME CEO and the manipulative EMG CEO. The alcohol had completely bypassed the Eternal Rose's charm and went straight for his Nexus-raised filter. He completely dropped his polite, high-society facade.
"Argh, fuck it," Percival groaned loudly, rubbing his temples. "What is with the mouth sports?"
The immediate surrounding area of the gala went absolutely, terrifyingly silent.
Percival took a step closer to the two most powerful people in the room, his voice entirely devoid of respect or fear. "Can you both just say things plainly and honestly? I don't know what your grand scheme is, or why you invited me here to play these games, but I really don't like being a monkey dancing on your palms."
…
Meanwhile, in an entirely different, heavily soundproofed wing of the Hotel, the atmosphere was vastly different.
This was the managers' lounge, a private room where the handlers, executives, and agents could mingle, drink, and talk actual business without the pretentious pretext of wearing masks.
Ratik stood near the bar, holding a simple glass of scotch. She was currently deep in conversation with a few veteran colleagues she hadn't seen since her grueling days working under Maestro Gil Nothos.
Suddenly, the rapid, frantic clack-clack-clack of high heels echoed down the marble hallway outside.
The heavy oak doors burst open. Briane Taleini stood in the doorway, her chest heaving, holding the skirt of her lavish red and gold dress up so she could run. She scanned the room wildly until she spotted the sharp, familiar suit.
"RATIK!" Briane shouted, entirely dropping her Crystal Canary elegance.
Ratik instantly set her glass down, her managerial instincts flaring to life. "Briane?"
Beside Ratik, Briane's own manager, Kio, nearly dropped her datapad in shock. "Briane? What happened? Did something happen on the floor?"
"Just come!" Briane gasped, waving them forward.
A rush of rapid footsteps followed as Ratik, Kio, and Briane sprinted back through the VIP corridors. They followed the rising commotion until Briane shoved open a set of heavy acoustic double doors, leading them into one of the hotel's private, opulent concert halls.
The hall was already rapidly filling with the glittering elite of the masquerade, all buzzing with frantic, hushed excitement.
And standing right in the center of the brightly lit stage were two men: Composer Percival and Nico Tealeaf.
"Oh, shit," Ratik cursed softly, instantly rushing down the center aisle toward the stage.
She spotted Mar Raila sitting comfortably in the very center of the front row, looking incredibly entertained. Ratik marched right up to the edge of her seat.
"Raila," Ratik demanded, her voice a low, furious hiss. "What is this?"
Mar Raila didn't even look away from the stage. She just smiled lazily. "Your artist is much bolder than I thought, Ratik. He angered poor Nico so much with his... honesty... that Nico completely snapped. He challenged Percival to a live songwriting challenge right here, in front of the entire industry."
Sitting heavily in the plush chair beside her, Ezil Zesel waved a massive hand at Ratik. "Move, Ratik. You are obstructing my view."
Ratik's jaw tightened, but she forced herself to shift to the side, allowing Briane and Kio to catch up and stand closely behind her in the aisle.
Ratik turned to Briane, her eyes frantic. "What really happened?"
Briane winced, pulling her domino mask off her face and rubbing her eyes. "I think he drank too much... again. I'm so sorry, Ratik. I really should have kept closer eyes on him."
Ratik looked up at the stage. She saw Dorian standing there, adjusting his silver half-mask, looking slightly swaying but terrifyingly focused as a grand piano was wheeled out onto the stage by the hotel staff.
Ratik shook her head. "No need to apologize, Briane."
Ratik turned her attention back to Mar Raila. She took a step forward, completely ignoring Ezil, and bent down so her mouth was mere inches from Raila's ear. The air around the manager suddenly felt as cold and absolute as a BSO operative.
"This is the last time you do this to my artist," Ratik whispered, every syllable dripping with venom. "I don't know whatever it is you are trying to scheme by inviting him to this event. But if there is even one negative article that comes out of this stunt tonight... I will shine your secret to the entire galaxy."
Mar Raila's lazy smile vanished. She turned her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto Ratik's.
"You will burn yourself to the ground if you did that," Raila warned, her voice a dangerous, velvet threat. "Remember?"
Ratik didn't blink. The fierce, uncompromising loyalty she held for the farm boy blazed in her eyes.
"Then I will turn myself into ashes to burn your empire," Ratik stated with absolute, chilling conviction. "Because he will soar higher, with or without me."
For a fraction of a second, the impenetrable armor of the EMG CEO cracked. Mar Raila's eyes faltered, genuinely taken aback by the sheer intensity of Ratik's threat.
Raila swallowed hard, snapping her head back to face the stage, refusing to look at the manager again.
Ratik stood up straight, smoothing out her suit jacket. She crossed her arms, locked her eyes on her masked prodigy, and waited for this whole thing to end
…
As the impromptu stage was hastily set up, the murmurs of the gathered guests began to ripple violently through the concert hall. Celebrities leaned in close to each other, whispering behind feathered fans and jeweled masks, their eyes fixed hungrily on the drama unfolding.
"What exactly happened out there?" one A-list actor whispered to his co-star, adjusting his velvet collar. "It seems the prodigal composer isn't as composed as his name suggests."
"It was inevitable," another seasoned artist leaned in, her voice dripping with gossip. "I was standing right next to them. Percival looked Nico dead in the eye and said, 'At least my songs are mine.'"
The first actor physically winced, drawing in a sharp breath. "Oof. That's got to sting."
"With the recent plagiarism drama being so publicly brushed onto Nico's shoulders by his old label, it's no wonder he wants to bury the kid," the seasoned artist continued, watching the two men on stage. "Maybe that's exactly why he challenged him here. There is no better way to prove your actual skill and salvage your reputation than to publicly defeat the wildfire that is Composer Percival."
The small group nodded silently, their eyes tracking the masked figure swaying slightly near the grand piano. In their minds, they were all thinking the exact same thing: 'Let's see if his claim of fifteen-minute songwriting is real. Will this pressure completely squash the mighty fire and launch the fallen star back into orbit? Or will it just give the fire more fuel and bury a rising star six feet deeper?'
…
Down in the front row, Ezil Zesel crossed his massive arms over his chest, his dreadlocks swaying as he settled deeper into the plush velvet seat. He leaned his heavy frame toward Mar Raila.
"What was that little display about?" Ezil asked casually, referring to Ratik's furious whisper. He hadn't been able to hear the words over the ambient noise of the hall.
Raila didn't even blink. She kept her eyes glued to the stage, her posture perfectly relaxed. "Nothing important, Ezil. Focus on your artist up there. He is about to be humiliated in front of his peers."
Ezil let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated in his chest. "Do you really think I care about him?"
Raila finally turned her head to look at the ZME CEO. The casual cruelty in his voice wasn't an act. He was being entirely sincere. He genuinely didn't give a single damn about Nico Tealeaf's career or his reputation.
'Then why did he bring him here tonight?' Raila's mind worked rapidly, connecting the dots. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You knew I invited Composer Percival tonight, didn't you?"
Ezil just offered a wide, terrifyingly sharp smirk, completely unbothered by the accusation. "I needed a pawn to measure the true capabilities of my new toy. It is never fun to pit an elephant against an ant, Raila. I needed to see exactly how the elephant moves when the ant bites."
"So this is just your opening move in a much larger game?" Raila concluded, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr.
The Qerrian CEO chuckled again, entirely confident in his position. "Are you trying to hold me down, Raila?"
Raila just smiled, a cold, bloodless expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Darling. You don't know me at all."
Before the two titans of industry could escalate their corporate cold war any further, the clear, amplified voice of the hastily appointed MC rang out across the hall. It was a mid-level artist signed under EMG, eager to seize the sudden spotlight.
"Alright, celebrities and executives in the room!!" the MC shouted, his voice echoing off the acoustic panels. "Tonight, we are about to witness an incredible duel! As you can see, both artists are currently finalizing their pieces behind me! There are absolutely no restrictions tonight! No theme! Just full creativity and raw passion!"
The crowd erupted into polite, highly anticipated applause.
"Let's see which artist will go first!" The MC jogged over to the side of the stage where Percival was casually leaning against the polished grand piano. "How about it, Composer? Would you like to debut yours now?"
Percival slowly raised his head, adjusting his silver half-mask.
HIC!
"Let him go first," Percival waved a hand loosely toward Nico. "I am a gentleman, after all... hic."
A genuine ripple of loud chuckles and amused murmurs swept through the seated celebrities and executives. Even entirely drunk, the masked prodigy was effortlessly charismatic.
The MC grinned, pivoting smoothly toward the seething form of Nico Tealeaf on the opposite side of the stage.
"Nico!" the MC announced, holding the microphone out. "Composer Percival has graciously thrown the towel to you! Will you throw it back and let him go first, or will you take the opening stage?"
Nico snatched the microphone from the stand, his eyes burning with a desperate, frantic energy. He glared across the stage at the swaying, silver-clad figure.
"No need to wait," Nico sneered into the mic, his voice harsh and aggressive. "Maybe he just wants me to go first so he can try to copy my melody, since he clearly hasn't got anything written down."
The audience instantly became rowdy, the chatter escalating into a chaotic mix of gasps and low whistles at the blatant, highly personal disrespect.
Nico turned his back on Percival, setting himself up at the second grand piano that had been rolled out for him. He took a deep breath, cracking his knuckles. He was ready to prove to the entire galaxy that he wasn't just a plagiarist. He was a real musician.
While the rest of the hall buzzed with anticipation, down in the front row, Ezil Zesel's dark eyes narrowed sharply. His intense, calculating gaze was entirely focused on the relaxed, swaying posture of the masked composer leaning against the piano.
…
Nico Tealeaf sat straight-backed at the grand piano, his fingers resting lightly over the black and white keys. He took one final, grounding breath. The entire concert hall had gone dead silent, waiting to see what the fallen star had written in his frantic fifteen minutes of preparation.
He pressed the first chord. It was a heavy, somber minor progression, stark and unadorned.
Nico closed his eyes, leaning into the microphone stand.
"Staring at the glass, but the reflection isn't mine," he sang, his voice carrying the smooth, breathy cadence that had originally made him a rising star. "Built a house of cards on a fragile, borrowed line..."
The audience of hardened executives and critical artists listened intently. The progression wasn't overly complex, but it was incredibly earnest. Nico layered a steady, rhythmic synthetic beat underneath the piano chords, giving the song a distinct, modern R&B feel that was his undeniable signature.
"They say I took the crown, but they handed me the gold," Nico's voice rose, pouring raw, defensive emotion into the lyrics. "Caught in the machine, doing exactly what I'm told… Now the spotlight burns, and the shadows pull me down… But I'm still the king in this empty, quiet town..."
In the third row, Briane Taleini tilted her head slightly, analyzing the performance with a professional ear. It was a blatant, highly public attempt to justify his actions during the Goldclick drama. He was painting himself not as a thief, but as a victim of the corporate machine, a pawn who had just been handed stolen music by his label and told to sing.
"I didn't light the match, but I'm standing in the fire," Nico belted out the chorus, his voice straining slightly to hit the emotional peak. "Just a broken bird caught up in the wire… Look at me now, look at what I've become… A target for the crowd, a beat on a stolen drum."
Down in the front row, Ezil Zesel simply watched, his arms still crossed, his face an impenetrable mask of Qerrian stone.
The song wasn't a masterpiece. It lacked the intricate, soul-stirring depth of the tracks he had allegedly 'written' before the scandal broke. But it was undeniably catchy. It had a solid hook, a clear narrative, and most importantly, it had Nico's authentic voice behind it.
As the final, lingering minor chord echoed through the acoustic hall, Nico opened his eyes and glared defiantly across the stage at Composer Percival.
The audience erupted into applause. It was a solid, respectful response from a room full of famous stars in the galaxy. They were genuinely a bit impressed. He had managed to produce a coherent, emotionally charged song under immense pressure.
The MC jogged back out to the center of the stage, his voice booming over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, give a huge hand to NICO TEALEAF!!"
The applause swelled once more before settling down into a low, expectant hum. The MC confidently strode over to the grand piano, where Percival was still casually leaning, adjusting his silver half-mask.
"So, how about that, Composer?" the MC asked, holding the microphone out, clearly fishing for a soundbite.
Percival straightened up slightly, his posture swaying just a fraction. He looked across the stage at Nico.
"That was good," Percival said simply, his baritone voice echoing through the hall.
The MC blinked, completely caught off guard by the total lack of malice. He quickly tried to scoop up more drama, leaning closer. "Is that... sarcastic, Composer?"
Percival let out a soft, genuine chuckle. "No. It's good. It's his. And that is always a good thing in my ears."
The absolute sincerity in the masked prodigy's voice completely deflated the tension in the room. He was praising the fact that the fallen star had finally produced something entirely original.
Nico stood frozen by his piano, his defensive glare faltering. He didn't know how to process the genuine compliment from the man who had ruined him.
The MC, realizing he wasn't going to get an explosive, headline-worthy fight out of the Composer, quickly pivoted back to his role.
"Well, alright then!" the MC announced, stepping back from the grand piano. "Are you ready, Composer?"
Percival just gave a single, lazy nod. He didn't even sit down on the piano bench. He simply reached out and rested his hands on the keys while still standing.
The MC threw his arm toward the masked figure.
"NOW, GIVE IT UP FOR PERCIVAL!!"
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**