Chapter 2: The Stage

At 3:00 AM, I woke up on time, got ready, and opened the door.

Click—

The sound overlapped with the door next to mine.

“Hi, Alice.”

It was Chuxue.

‘So suspicious…’

Even though I thought that, I didn’t immediately question her.

That would only alert the enemy.

“…Good… morning.”

I gave her my standard socially anxious response to keep up appearances.

She left shortly after, looking a bit unnatural.

However, I didn’t press her for answers because I was pressed for time today.

Besides, I could make my escape after performing these last few shows.

Right now, all I wanted was to finish the performances quickly and enjoy my retirement.

At 3:10 AM, the sky was pitch black.

I sat on the steps of the theater’s back door, stuffing the last bite of my second rice ball into my mouth.

A plastic bag from the convenience store rustled loudly in the wind beside me.

This theater was called Starlight Hall.

It was a large indoor venue in the Eastern Region, capable of seating 8,000 people.

Normally, performances wouldn’t be held at this hour.

But when a show took place during the late-night and early-morning hours, it was truly bathed in starlight.

There was only one occasion where such a performance would occur:

—Supernova.

It symbolized the birth of a supernova in the idol world.

Scalpers at the entrance had jacked up the ticket prices to three times their original value, yet people were still buying them.

When the final show ended last night, some people were crouching outside the venue crying because they hadn’t been able to get a ticket.

A normal venue with a capacity of 8,000 would never see such a sight.

It was only because of “Supernova” — or rather, the character I was currently playing.

“Sigh…”

But I didn’t actually care much about that.

I just found it troublesome, as it added a lot of unnecessary expectations and demands.

I thought back on the experience.

A three-month debut was actually quite short.

A total of twenty-seven performances wasn’t really that many.

The 8,000-person venue, the 2,000-person venue, and the 500-person underground live house.

I had stood on all of them.

But in truth, I didn’t really want to be on stage.

In the beginning, I was just an ordinary guy who liked idols.

I turned around and pulled a piece of paper out of my bag.

It was something I had printed a long time ago — Guide to Establishing an Idol Agency.

The corners were curled, and the fold lines were nearly torn.

I refolded it carefully and put it back in the bag.

In the future, I wanted to sit below the stage and watch the idols I trained dancing up there, instead of being up there myself.

Not as “Jewel Princess.”

Not as the “Backstage Social Phobe.”

But as the “President.”

I wanted to sit back, enjoy life, and watch beautiful girls dance.

Well, they had to be genuine beautiful girls.

As for fake girls, one like me was more than enough.

I mocked myself in my head once again.

Just then, my phone rang—

It was a notification from the bank:

Payment for yesterday’s performance has been deposited, including the finale bonus.

I tapped it and glanced at the number.

Then I exited and opened another page — a page where I had been calculating accounts for a long time.

Venue rental, equipment costs, initial staff salaries, business licenses, taxes, and insurance.

Each item was followed by a number.

At the very bottom was an even larger number.

Goal: 20,000,000 RMB

So, there was actually another reason why I was an idol to rake in cash:

To make money, open an agency, train my own idols, and then have those idols support me while I do absolutely nothing.

Finally — lead a slacking life, and maybe watch a few live shows.

Goal: 20,000,000 RMB

Balance: 19,998,542 RMB

Comparing the two numbers, I was very close.

Just a little bit more.

I might even reach it tomorrow.

“Hehe~”

At the fantasy of my future happy slacking life, all my disguises temporarily fell away, leaving behind a bit of a silly grin.

Because I really was tired.

Although my muscle memory turned it into a cute smile — I had truly gone a bit dazed.

“Ahem—no.”

Three seconds after allowing myself to drop the act, I immediately packed my things and stood up.

Now was not the time to think about this.

Besides, what if I got caught today?

Then I could only scream in my head — ‘No~ My slacking life—!’

Finally, I tossed the plastic bag into the trash and turned to enter the theater’s back door.

Originally, this plan was perfect, except for one thing:

I had overdone it.

Exceeding expectations brought not only trouble, but also threats.

I originally thought I could easily make money — after all, idols were indeed the most lucrative profession in this world — and then retire.

But my brain hadn’t degenerated to that extent yet.

Because threats like the one yesterday had been stinging my nerves, and I realized that I might not be able to get out unscathed — at least not that smoothly.

So, I quickly chose a plan between my dream and reality:

The idol agency still had to be opened, but I needed to train a newcomer comparable to, or even surpassing, the “Jewel Princess” to divert attention.

One person shining is very conspicuous.

But if there are two or more flashes of light, one can be hidden.

And most importantly, this way my dream of a slacking life with my own agency could still be realized.

Opening the agency just became the second step.

Tap, tap, tap—

People were already running through the hallways.

Staff members were moving equipment back and forth.

Someone was shouting into a headset, “Third set of lights, get ready!”

while someone else was crouching in a corner eating a cold lunch box.

I walked past them, and no one looked up.

I knew this was a sign of professionalism.

However, I still noticed a gaze.

White, long hair flashed past the window—

Chuxue.

Her again.

Too suspicious!

I thought of the note from yesterday again, and my heart skipped a beat.

My footsteps involuntarily drifted half an inch in that direction—

“Alice.”

Someone called out to me.

I turned around.

It was the venue’s Stage Supervisor, a woman in her forties with her hair pulled back tightly and deep wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

She had been in this industry for twenty years and was said to have managed three generations of idols.

“Last night’s improv interaction,” she said, “the front row cameras didn’t keep up.

Watch your positioning today and wait for the spotlight.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t say I had acted on my own, nor did she ask me to restrain myself.

She was simply reminding me to coordinate.

She looked at me.

I had seen that kind of look before.

It wasn’t the fanaticism of a fan or the scrutiny of a peer; it was the look of an old pro watching another old pro.

“I’ve kept an eye on you since your debut three months ago,” she said.

“You haven’t made a single mistake in twenty-seven performances.”

I didn’t say anything.

“No rookie is like that,” she continued.

“Where did you train before?”

“You’re joking. I’m just lucky… maybe I’m just talented.”

‘After all, I have been called a genius idol lately,’ I mocked myself internally.

She smiled slightly; I figured she didn’t believe me.

But she didn’t ask further and turned to leave.

I checked the time.

I had to hurry.

I continued walking.

But she was right.

No rookie could be like this.

A rookie would be out of breath by the third song, forget lyrics during the interaction segments, and be so nervous on the final night that they couldn’t sleep.

But I didn’t.

This wasn’t because of talent.

This was because, in the past, I had done this one thousand two hundred times.

***

The dressing room door was open.

There were people inside.

One was named Lin Tian, and the other was Xia Wan.

Lin Tian was the type of person who could never sit still.

Right now, she was leaning over the makeup mirror, rummaging through an eyeshadow palette.

Xia Wan was leaning against the wall yawning.

There were dark circles under her eyes; she clearly hadn’t had enough sleep either.

They were the supporting performers for today’s opening show, a rookie group called “Spark.”

Having debuted three months ago, this was their first time on the stage of Starlight Hall.

“Alice!”

Lin Tian’s eyes lit up when she saw me.

“That improv interaction you did last night was amazing!

I saw it clearly from the side stage — that wink, that angle.

How do you control your eyes like that?”

“Practice.”

“Practice? You can practice that?”

“Ten thousand times.”

Lin Tian was stunned.

Xia Wan burst out laughing nearby.

“You believe everything she says.”

“It’s not a matter of believing or not,” Lin Tian said, still staring at me.

“The problem is — look at her face now and that face on stage last night. Are they even the same person?”

Xia Wan walked over and stared at me too.

“True,” she said.

“The vibe is completely different.”

I didn’t say anything and started applying my makeup.

In the mirror, Lin Tian and Xia Wan stood behind me.

Their two young faces had a clear light in their eyes.

“You have another show tomorrow?”

I asked.

“Yeah,” Lin Tian said.

“It’s the finale! Just thinking about it is exciting. An 8,000-person venue… my parents are coming from our hometown tomorrow to watch—”

The finale day was the last day of the event.

“What about today?”

“Today?”

“I’m talking about today,” I said, looking at her through the mirror.

“Today’s venue is also 8,000 people. If you blow it today, there won’t be a tomorrow for you.”

Lin Tian’s smile stiffened for a moment.

Xia Wan pulled her away.

Before leaving, Xia Wan glanced back at me.

That look was a bit more complex than Lin Tian’s.

She understood.

Although I didn’t mean to give them a hard time, they really should know one thing—

Every venue would become a stepping stone for the road ahead.

…Even if I had to be the “bad guy” to remind them, it was better than them having regrets later.

I thought this way, truly having no other intentions.

I just saw some rookies and wanted to teach them something…

“Hmm?”

Wait, did I just forget my socially anxious persona?

—Oh no!

My disguise!

***

At 4:00 AM, I was ready.

I stood behind the curtain.

The performances at Starlight Hall had started last night and continued until now.

Separated by a single curtain, people in 8,000 seats were screaming and excited.

The waving of glow sticks became more frequent.

The performance was gradually nearing its end and was about to reach its climax.

Lin Tian poked her head out from the side stage and waved at me.

Xia Wan stood next to her.

She was about to go on stage, yet she was still clutching her script, her lips moving as she memorized her lines.

I looked away.

I closed my eyes to rest, waiting for my time to go on.

At exactly 4:10 AM, the music started.

I forced the note, my disguise, my unease, and my fear back into the depths of my heart.

I took a deep breath and adjusted the corners of my mouth to the exact angle carved into my bones.

Then, I walked onto the stage—

Flash!

The lights flickered on, shining on my face without being off by even an inch.