The rustling noise buzzed through the air, the honking chaos of traffic flowing like a river. The world still clung to the tail end of a scorching summer, bursting with life. Las Vegas, with its kaleidoscope of colors, shimmered like a snow globe—a disco dance floor flickering between light and shadow.
And there they were, in the middle of that dance floor, swaying freely and losing themselves in the moment, as if tomorrow might be the end of the world.
"Far away yet so close, lights flashing, melodies fading… I stand on the corner watching you kiss her, I can only dance on my own."
The scene painted by the lyrics broke the fourth wall, spilling into reality like a picture-in-picture from a movie. It was a story no one cared about, playing out alone—visible only to those who truly understood loneliness, sitting in the dark, falling apart, overwhelmed by sorrow.
Simon watched it all quietly, not losing his composure, just taking in the brief performance. His chest felt stuffed with cotton, a pang of empathy stirring inside him. He genuinely felt the melancholy and bitterness in the song, his emotions settling slowly before he let out a long breath.
Everyone has a little corner in their heart, hiding secrets they don't want anyone to know.
His thoughts drifted like smoke or mist, swirling through the noise and glamour of Las Vegas. For a moment, all the clamor faded, and the world went silent.
Then Simon straightened up, turning to his colleagues behind him, calling them back to work. But in the hazy glow of shifting light and shadow, he caught glimpses of faces lost in thought—fleeting, indescribable flickers of distraction passing through the blur.
"Back to work."
Though reluctant, work was work. Simon raised his voice, snapping his colleagues out of their reverie. One by one, they snapped back to reality, almost overcompensating for their brief lapse by raising their voices and bustling about.
"Let's get to it!"
"Time to hustle."
"Work, work, work."
Meaningless chatter filled the air as they slipped back into their familiar rhythm. But the emotions lingering deep in their minds? Those were theirs alone to know.
Simon glanced back at the singer in the crowd, a spark of curiosity flickering inside him. On a whim, he stepped forward. "Sorry, NBC's prepping for tonight's live broadcast. We need to test the audio. This area's off-limits for performances."
"Of course, of course. We get it." Ronan straightened up, flashing Simon a big smile. He gestured to the nearly packed-up instruments and gear beside him. "We'll be out of here in no time. No worries."
Simon glanced back and realized this wasn't just a solo act—it was a band. The singer had just done a solo piece. "Good, good," he said, nodding as it clicked. Logic told him to walk away, but an impulsive urge won out. "Can I ask… what band are you guys?"
"King for a Day," came the answer—not from Ronan, but from the taller girl nearby. Her eyes were still slightly red, but a smile had returned to her face. "They're an amazing, amazing band. They've got their own YouTube channel where you can find all their performances. They're doing a street tour right now. You'll love them—their shows are incredible!"
"Today's performance was especially awesome, right? You noticed too, didn't you? That's why you came over to ask more, yeah?"
She was like an eager fan trying to pitch something but fumbling the details. Her jumbled, overly excited words ended up startling the person she was pitching to. Those bright, intense eyes felt a little unnerving, making Simon instinctively step back half a pace to keep a safe social distance.
Simon stared at her, dumbfounded, nodding blankly. What started as mild interest had turned into mild panic. "Yeah, it was good. I'll check them out sometime," he said hastily, his tone dripping with polite disinterest. He gave a quick nod and turned to leave.
The taller girl, still a bit disappointed, called after him, "Make sure you do!"
Simon tripped over his own feet, stumbling awkwardly. Laughter erupted behind him, leaving him flustered.
And that was exactly why, as he walked away, he forgot about the band. At the end of the day, it was just a street performance—hardly earth-shattering, nothing that lingered for days. Plus, he had work to finish.
The next few days were a whirlwind of nonstop tasks. He barely had time to eat, let alone think, completely forgetting about the band that had popped up on the street. His packed TV station schedule left no room for rest, much less relaxation.
It wasn't until two weeks later that a colleague cornered him during lunch. "Simon! Simon!" The guy's giddy excitement carried that familiar gossip vibe. Simon had a bad feeling, but it was too late to escape. "We found a video. It looks like you're in it."
Why did that sound so weird?
Had an ex-girlfriend secretly filmed something and leaked it online? Was his face clear in it? But why would anyone gossip about a random TV worker's video? Unless he'd done something heroic… or totally embarrassing?
In the span of a second, Simon's mind raced through a dozen sharp turns. Then he saw the video—and it had nothing to do with his wild guesses.
"…What?" Simon couldn't help but blurt out in confusion. Once it sank in, he burst out laughing.
The video was shot outside the Venetian in Las Vegas, from a bystander's perspective. The title was pure clickbait: "A Performance That Stopped the World."
The description explained that the TV crew had been clearing the area for a live broadcast that night, but the staff couldn't bring themselves to interrupt the heavenly voice rising above the crowd. Everyone paused their work, waiting for the performance to end before resuming. For those brief two minutes, the world really did seem to stop.
It was undeniably a curiosity-piquing, viral-worthy title.
In the past two weeks, this clip—under three minutes long—had blown up on YouTube, skyrocketing to fame overnight. It had already racked up over five million views, creating a small wave of buzz in the vast online sea.
No wonder his colleagues had noticed.
Simon was stunned. He never imagined that moment would circle back to him like this.