Chapter 24: The Return Performance (Part Two)

The third segment —

The music starts again.

This time, the rhythm is light and bouncy.

I hop and skip across the stage, my ponytail bobbing up and down with every move.

“When I jump up on stage — !”

I jump and land.

“My knees hurt again — !”

Sounds of concern erupt from the audience.

They took the lyrics literally.

“But the pain doesn’t matter — !”

I quickly wave my hands and smile.

I continue to sing.

“I’m even happier after the pain — !”

“Because the pain proves — !”

I stand on my tiptoes, reaching upward with all my might.

“I’m jumping really high — !”

“High enough for all of you to see — !”

“Did you see it — !”

I point to my eyes, then point toward the crowd.

“This angle — “

I spin around.

“This arc — “

I whip my head around, my ponytail drawing a circle in the air.

“This ponytail swinging — “

(I suddenly stop.)

“Ah.”

My ponytail smacked me right in the face.

I cover my face, standing frozen on the spot.

The entire venue falls silent for a second.

Then —

“Hahahahaha — !”

12,000 people burst into hysterical laughter.

I peek out from behind my hands, revealing only one eye as I look at the crowd with a pitiful expression.

“It hurts so much — !”

I pause for a second.

“But I’m so happy — !”

The music gradually quietens down.

It isn’t the end, but the calm before the storm.

I stand in the center of the stage.

The lights dim until only a single spotlight is trained on me.

“When there were thirty seconds left.”

My voice becomes soft.

“I looked at the first row.”

“I saw a girl crying.”

The crowd slowly settles into silence.

12,000 people, yet it is so quiet it feels as if no one is there.

“On the fan she was holding — “

I gesture with my hands.

“The name ‘Alice’ was written in crooked letters.”

“The handwriting wasn’t pretty.”

“But it was earnest.”

I look toward the audience.

I look in that direction.

Although I can’t see her clearly, I know she is there.

“I looked at her.”

“And I made a funny face.”

(Tongue out + crossed eyes)

The audience laughs again, but this time, there is the glint of tears on their faces.

“She froze for a moment.”

“And then — “

“She smiled.”

I point in that direction.

“Smiling while crying.”

“Waving her fan even while laughing.”

I point at her.

In reality, I have no idea who I am pointing at or if anyone is actually there.

Across the entire stage, across the distance from the first row to the Nth row, across the boundary between light and darkness, I know that these invisible places might hold someone just like her.

“You — !”

“Have been blasted by me — !”

The final explosion —

The drums erupt.

Every single light flickers on.

It isn’t a gradual brightening, but a sudden “boom” as they all roar to life.

The stage is blindingly bright, so bright it forces eyes to shut, bright enough to return all the darkness of this past week.

“Detonate — the Fuse — !”

“Boom boom boom — !”

“The one-week gap — !”

“Fill it all with Pink Bubbles — !”

I run across the stage. From left to right, from right to left. My ponytail flashes like a bolt of pink lightning.

“Detonate — the Fuse — !”

“Bang bang bang — !”

“One week of waiting — !”

“Trade it all for — !”

I jump.

I spin in mid-air.

As I land, I face the crowd and scream that name with every ounce of strength in my body.

“A — LI — CE — !”

The crowd screams along with me.

12,000 voices shout that name simultaneously, the sound crashing back onto me.

(I hop)

“Phew — !”

(I hop again)

“Boom — !”

(A third hop)

“Bang — !”

I can’t jump anymore.

I crouch on the stage, hands braced against my knees, gasping for breath.

Sweat drips from my forehead, falling onto the stage and creating a small, dark stain.

“Detonate — !”

“The Fuse — !”

The final chorus.

There is no technique left, no choreography, nothing. It is just raw shouting.

“All of my seventeen years — “

“I’ll blast them all open for you to see — !”

The drummer is smiling.

The guitarist has his eyes closed.

The bassist starts to cry, but his hands don’t stop.

The lead singer walks over to me, hands me the microphone, and screams along with me.

“All of my past week — “

“I’ll give it all back to reward your wait — !”

The audience is singing.

12,000 people are singing.

It isn’t a chorus; it’s the kind of singing where everyone is screaming and tearing their lungs out to vent every bit of the past week’s anticipation.

“Detonate — !”

“The Fuse — !”

“Even after the explosion — !”

“There’s still debris — !”

“Even after it’s crushed — !”

“There’s still powder — !”

“When the powder falls to the ground — !”

“It’s still pink — !”

Because my name is Alice.

Because I am the Gemstone Princess.

Because I —

[Final Chorus]

“Detonate — the Fuse — !”

“Boom boom boom — !”

“The one-week gap,”

“Fill it all with Pink Bubbles!”

“Detonate — the Fuse — !”

“Bang bang bang — !”

“One week of waiting,”

“Trade it all for — “

[A — LI — CE — !]

As the final note fades, the audience screams my name while I drop to my knees on stage.

I really am kneeling.

This isn’t a choreographed ending pose; my legs simply have no strength left.

I had already guessed this would happen when I was designing the lyrics and movements.

Those sudden three consecutive jumps would drain my endurance in an instant.

Both knees hit the floor, hands braced in front of me, ponytail drooping down to touch the stage.

‘Oh no…’

I gasp for air.

‘It seems…’

Sweat drips down.

‘I… overdid it again.’

My knees are shaking.

‘I know… I’m definitely going to regret this in a moment.’

The shaking won’t stop.

The entire venue falls silent for a second.

Just one second.

Then, I slowly lift my head.

‘But… as for the stage.’

I raise my hands.

‘Don’t think about…’

I form a large heart with my hands.

‘When I…’

The heart is trembling.

‘…will be exposed.’

Because my hands are shaking.

‘What Warning Note…’

My entire arms are shaking.

‘The Agency…’

But the heart remains a heart, complete and aimed toward the audience.

‘I just need — !’

I speak into the microphone, breathless and stuttering.

“This… this…”

“Is one week’s worth of…”

“My love…”

“Did you catch it?”

The audience is silent.

And then —

“Waaaaaaa — !!!”

It explodes.

The screams of 12,000 people erupt at the same time.

It isn’t just shouting; it’s a pure scream, the kind that feels like they are emptying everything out of their chests.

I am surrounded by that sound, kneeling there, washed over by it again and again.

“The one-week gap.”

“It’s been filled.”

“With pink.”

“With smiles.”

“With the arc of a swinging ponytail.”

“With the kind of — “

“Cuteness that jumps even when the knees hurt.”

I push off the ground and slowly stand up.

My knees are still shaking.

It doesn’t matter.

I bow to the audience.

A deep, long bow that shows my forehead to everyone.

Then, I turn around.

I walk toward the backstage.

Halfway there, I suddenly remember something.

I turn back toward the crowd, waving as I walk backward.

“See you tomorrow — !”

I pause.

“Wait — !”

I stop in my tracks, tilting my head with a brilliant smile.

“Let’s keep blasting tomorrow — !”

Then I turn.

I skip off the stage.

My ponytail bounces behind me like a flicker of pink flame that refuses to go out.

The moment I disappear, I hear the screams behind me rise another pitch.

‘I really… overdid it again.’

I open the backstage door —