Music God Celebrity

The sprawling marble courtyard of the Harmonia Conservatory hummed with nervous energy. Tomorrow was the Starfall Showcase, the critical event for any senior hoping to secure a record deal. Ryan Parker stood near the grand fountain, clutching a crumpled composition notebook against his chest. The cool autumn wind bit through his thin cotton jacket. He was waiting for Megan Harper.

​Ryan had spent seventy two hours awake on cheap coffee and sheer willpower, finalizing the vocal arrangements for her performance. It was his masterpiece. The song that would launch her career and make their suffering worthwhile.

​A collective gasp rippled through the courtyard. The chatter died.

​A sleek black Aston Martin glided past the wrought iron gates and rolled to a stop.

​Megan stepped out of the passenger side. She wore a tailored crimson dress, looking every bit the superstar she was destined to be. But she did not look at Ryan. She reached a delicate hand back into the luxury car.

​Logan Murphy emerged. The heir to Murphy Entertainment, the most ruthless media conglomerate in the country, wore a charcoal suit that cost more than Ryan had earned in three years scrubbing academy floors. Logan flashed an arrogant smile and wrapped a possessive arm around Megan’s waist.

​Ryan stepped forward. Whispers broke out across the plaza.

​He forced his ruined throat to work. Three years ago, he was the freshman prodigy with the coveted tenor voice. Then came the car crash. He had shoved Megan out of the way, taking the full brunt of the impact. The steering column crushed his windpipe. Now, he could not speak loudly without tasting blood.

​"Megan," Ryan rasped. Every syllable felt like swallowing glass. "You missed our final studio rehearsal."

​Megan froze. She turned to face him, removing Logan’s hand for a moment. The warmth she usually reserved for Ryan was gone, replaced by a chilling, practiced indifference.

​"We do not have rehearsals anymore, Ryan," she said smoothly. "We do not have anything."

​Logan smirked, adjusting his platinum cuffs. "Is this the charity case? The one who fetches coffee for the freshmen?"

​"Megan, please," Ryan gripped his notebook tighter. "Tomorrow is the showcase. I finished the bridge for Fading Echoes. The acoustic arrangement is perfect."

​"You really do not get it," Megan sighed. She looked at him with overwhelming, suffocating pity. "I am not singing your acoustic arrangement tomorrow. I am performing a Murphy Entertainment original track. As an officially signed artist."

​Ryan stared at her. "Signed? But the showcase..."

​"The showcase is a formality for peasants," Logan interrupted with aristocratic condescension. "My father approved her Platinum Tier contract this morning. Global distribution. She does not need a school showcase, and she certainly does not need a broken stagehand dragging her down."

​"I gave up everything for you," Ryan choked out, fighting the burning agony in his throat. "I worked three jobs for your studio time. I sold my grandfather's guitar. I skipped my medical treatments."

​"And I said thank you," Megan snapped. Her composure cracked, revealing raw frustration. "I owe you my life, Ryan. But I do not owe you my future. Look at yourself."

​She pointed a manicured finger at his scuffed sneakers and worn oversized jacket.

​"Do you expect me to spend my life singing in dive bars while you wipe down microphones?" Megan's voice echoed sharply. "You cannot even speak above a whisper without bleeding. Logan can give me the world. You can only give me guilt."

​The words struck him like physical blows. The surrounding students watched with cruel fascination, recording on their phones.

​"So that is it?" Ryan asked, his raspy voice trembling. "Three years of me ghostwriting your portfolio, and you throw it away for a rich kid with a contract?"

​Logan laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Ghostwriting? Be careful with your words, garbage. Slander is a legal offense."

​"It is the truth," Ryan spat. "I wrote every note of Fading Echoes."

​Logan reached into his designer jacket and pulled out a crisp, embossed legal document. He held it up for the crowd to see.

​"Really?" Logan mocked loudly. "Because my legal department filed the official copyright for Fading Echoes this morning. It is registered under my name as the lead composer, and Megan as the primary lyricist. If you ever claim you wrote it, my team will bury you in corporate debt until your grandchildren are paying it off."

​Ryan felt the air leave his lungs. They had not just betrayed his heart; they had stolen his soul. Fading Echoes was his life's work.

​"You actually let him steal my song?" Ryan whispered.

​Megan looked away, staring intensely at the marble pavement. "It is just business, Ryan. You could not sing it anyway. Let Logan use his industry capital to make it a global hit. It is better for everyone."

​"Better," Ryan repeated blankly.

​Logan pulled a thick stack of hundred dollar bills from a gold money clip. He tossed the money into the air above Ryan. The crisp bills fluttered down into the dirty puddles around Ryan’s worn out shoes.

​"There is ten thousand dollars," Logan sneered. "A generous buyout for your scribbles. Buy some throat lozenges. Just stay away from my girlfriend. You are a depressing eyesore."

​The crowd erupted into cruel laughter.

​Ryan did not look at the scattered money. He kept his eyes locked firmly on Megan, waiting for a single ounce of remorse.

​She did nothing. She turned her back, slid gracefully into the expensive leather passenger seat, and shut Ryan out of her shiny new world.

​Logan gave a mocking two fingered salute, stepped into the driver seat, and revved the powerful engine. The deafening roar drowned out the laughter as the supercar sped away, leaving Ryan entirely alone amidst the scattered cash.

​Ryan's knees gave out. He collapsed onto the unforgiving concrete. The sharp physical pain in his vocal cords was nothing compared to the cavernous agony tearing through his chest. He reached out with trembling fingers, ignoring the hundred dollar bills, and grabbed his dropped composition notebook. It had landed face down in a muddy puddle. The ink of his masterpiece was bleeding into the dirt, ruined forever.

​He had endured three years of crushing poverty and physical torment, fueled by the naive belief that talent and love could overcome worldly obstacles. He was a colossal fool. Talent without power was a tragedy. Love without wealth was a cruel joke.

​A freezing drop of rain struck his cheek. The dark sky broke open, pouring a torrential downpour over the courtyard. The students shrieked and scattered inside, leaving Ryan kneeling in the freezing storm.

​He stared at his ruined, blistered hands. Hands that composed symphonies nobody would ever hear. He opened his mouth to the gray sky, trying to scream out the suffocating despair violently crushing his lungs.

​Only a pathetic, bloody hiss escaped his lips.

​He slammed his fists onto the concrete. The impact tore the skin from his knuckles. Warm blood mixed with freezing rain, washing over the scattered hundred dollar bills.

​Utter despair swallowed his mind. He closed his eyes, wishing the cold would take him.

​Then, time abruptly stopped.

​The heavy rain froze suspended in midair. The ambient sound of the city vanished entirely, replaced by a perfect, terrifying vacuum of silence. A cold, synthetic, and distinctly mechanical sound chimed directly inside his skull.

​[Ding! The Ultimate Music God System has detected Host's utter despair.]