Chapter 37: The Performance Continues.

15,000 people.

Before stepping onto the stage, that was merely a number.

After standing in the center of the stage, it was something else entirely.

It was a wave of sound.

It was a roar pressing in from all directions, powerful enough to knock someone over.

It was lightsticks.

It was the light of 15,000 pink glow sticks raised simultaneously, dyeing the entire stadium pink.

It was eyes.

It was 15,000 pairs of eyes staring at you at the exact same second, demanding that you speak, demanding that you move, and demanding that you return everything they had spent waiting for you.

I stood there.

Pink twin-tails.

Glitter eyeshadow.

The stage was dark.

Only a single spotlight shone on me.

Below the stage was a pink ocean.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

— It wasn’t the same rhythm as backstage.

This was the rhythm of the body.

The rhythm of a 15,000-person venue.

A familiar feeling was slowly reviving within me.

In truth, it wasn’t just 15,000-person venues.

I had been on stages with 18,000 people, 20,000 people, and even 30,000 people.

But now, I took a deep breath.

I took those things — the pocket watch, my sister, the seven people, and all the secrets I couldn’t tell anyone — and shut them away inside that black box.

Then, I spoke.

“I’m here!”

The first song.

It wasn’t a new one.

It was the Debut Song.

The one I sang three months ago when I stood in a 500-person venue for the first time.

Back then, someone in the crowd shouted, “A rookie? Can she even sing?”

Now, no one was shouting.

They were only screaming.

They were only waving.

They were only using all their strength to thrust that pink light toward me.

I started running.

I ran from left to right.

Then from right to left.

My twin-tails whipped around like a pink bolt of lightning.

Every time I reached a new spot, the screams from that direction reached a new peak.

When I ran to the very front of the stage, I crouched down.

I met the eyes of the audience in the first row.

And then —

“The next line — it’s your turn — !”

I held out the microphone.

15,000 people spoke at once.

They shouted in a chaotic mess, completely out of tune.

I listened.

I tilted my head.

I blinked.

Then, I laughed out loud.

“Pfft — even worse than last time~”

My tone was energetic, but as the last sentence fell away, my voice dropped to C4.

It was a real, fleeting laugh that lasted only a brief moment.

It was only for a split second.

The audience didn’t notice; they were laughing like crazy.

I stood up.

I patted my skirt.

“Fine, fine.

I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

Then I turned and ran toward the back of the stage.

Halfway there, I looked back and winked at the camera.

The second song.

I stood in the center of the stage and didn’t move.

I just sang.

I sang very slowly.

Very softly.

The rhythm was completely different from the first song.

The crowd quieted down as well.

15,000 people became so quiet it felt as if no one was there.

Only that voice drifted down from the stage, floating into every corner.

It drifted into the ears of those holding lightsticks.

It drifted into the hearts of those who had come to see a performance for the first time.

When I reached the chorus.

I suddenly paused.

It wasn’t planned.

It was —

My throat caught for a second.

Just for a second.

No one in the audience noticed.

I continued singing.

The third song.

The rhythm picked up again.

The lights exploded.

Red.

Pink.

White.

The entire stage looked like it was burning.

I jumped.

I jumped high.

So high that my knee twinged with pain again.

It was that song.

The one I had overdone last time.

Because the response had been so good, it was strongly recommended for an encore.

“Ignite — the Fuse — !”

“Boom, boom, boom — !”

“One-week Blank — !”

“Fill it all with Pink Bubbles — !”

I didn’t push myself as hard as last time, but the crowd still shouted along.

15,000 people screamed together.

They screamed until their voices were hoarse, until tears came to their eyes.

I ran to the left side of the stage and waved to the audience there.

They screamed.

I ran to the right side and made a finger-heart for them.

They screamed even louder.

When I reached the dead center of the stage, I stopped.

Facing the crowd, I slowly raised my hands and made a large heart over my head.

That heart sparkled under the lights.

“This — !”

“15,000 people’s worth of — !”

“My love — !”

“Did you catch it — !”

The crowd exploded.

The screams of 15,000 people erupted all at once.

I was surrounded by that sound.

I stood there.

Washed over by that sound again and again.

The fourth song.

I suddenly felt like doing something different.

“Next — !”

I pointed toward the audience.

“I’m going to call on you — !”

The crowd went wild.

“You — !”

I pointed in one direction.

The screams from that direction erupted.

“And you — !”

Another direction exploded.

“And you, and you, and you — !”

I pointed at random.

Every time I pointed, that section of the crowd went off like a bomb.

15,000 people were being played with, spinning in the palm of my hand.

At the very end.

I stopped.

I tilted my head toward the audience.

“Had enough fun yet~?”

The crowd shouted, “Not enough — !”

I blinked.

I put on an ‘I knew it’ expression.

“Not enough?”

“Then let’s keep going — !”

The fifth song.

The final 30 seconds.

I stood in the center of the stage, panting.

Sweat dripped down from my forehead.

The crowd was still shouting.

Still screaming.

Still waving.

I looked at that pink ocean.

I looked at the hands holding lightsticks.

I looked at the crying faces.

I looked at the laughing eyes.

I wanted to speak.

My voice was very soft.

So soft it was like I was talking to myself.

— But in the end, I pushed the words back down.

It was only for a moment.

No one heard it.

The last 10 seconds.

The music stopped.

The lights dimmed.

Only a single spotlight remained on me.

I stood there.

Facing the audience, I slowly bowed.

My movements were a beat slow.

Then I turned around.

And skipped toward the wings of the stage.

****

Backstage.

The dressing room door was closed.

I sat in front of the mirror.

I looked at the person in the reflection.

Pink twin-tails.

Glitter eyeshadow.

The makeup was smudged.

Sweat still clung to his face.

His eyes looked a little lonely.

But it was almost impossible to tell.

The person in the mirror was also looking back at me.

‘You’re… starting to get tired too.’

Alice.

The Agency.

The lights in the training room were still on.

Su Nian sat on the floor, clutching a water bottle and staring at the television.

Xiao Xi crouched beside her, also holding a water bottle — the pink one with the cute cartoon cat head on it.

The cartoon cat was facing Chuxue’s direction.

She was sitting on the sofa, holding her usual black tea that hadn’t changed in 10,000 years.

On the television, that pink figure had just disappeared.

The screen cut back to the host.

Su Nian opened her mouth.

“…So amazing.”

Her voice was very small.

“15,000 people… is also so amazing…”

Xiao Xi didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t look away either.

She just kept staring at the screen.

Chuxue put down her teacup.

She walked to the window.

Outside was the city’s night view.

The distant neon lights flickered.

She looked out the window.

She looked in that direction.

Toward the stadium.

‘Alice’s condition… is declining.’

She had noticed.

The Gemstone Princess, who had performed twenty-nine shows in a row, was finally starting to show signs of fatigue…

Although it was only for a few moments, he was no longer at 100%.

Though still remarkable…

‘But the Gemstone Princess — is not that Witch after all.’

She thought this as she spoke softly.

Her voice was so light it was like she was talking to herself.

“Eleven days.”