Music God Celebrity

Transaction Alert: $10,000,000.00

A heavy raindrop remained suspended an inch from Ryan’s nose, refracting the dull academy lamps into fractured sparks. The laughter of departing students was gone, replaced by a silence so absolute it felt physical.

​[Ding! The Ultimate Music God System has successfully integrated with the Host soul.]

​The voice vibrated from the center of his consciousness like a harmony of silver bells.

​"Who is there?" Ryan tried to ask, but his throat only produced an agonizing click.

​[Host: Ryan Parker.]

[Status: Severely Damaged.]

[Vocal Integrity: 2.4 percent.]

[Net Worth: Twelve dollars and forty two cents.]

[Evaluation: A dying spark.]

​Ryan stared at the translucent screen in his vision. It was real. The raw, bleeding hole where his love for Megan once lived pulsed in time with the flickering display.

​"Net worth twelve dollars," Ryan muttered in his mind, a silent laugh bubbling in his chest. "I saved her life. That is all a hero is worth."

​[The System detects Host despair. Commencing Novice Survival Pack distribution.]

[Item 1: Flawless Vocal Cord Regeneration Potion.]

[Item 2: Absolute Pitch and Master Level Guitar Proficiency.]

[Item 3: Emergency Fund Injection: One Billion Dollars.]

​The notification hit his mind like a physical blow. His phone vibrated in his wet pocket with a sharp buzz. He pulled it out. The screen glowed through the raindrops with an official alert from his banking app.

​"Transaction alert. Account ending in 4402 has received a credit of $1, 000,000,000.00. Current balance: $1,000,000,012.42."

​Ryan stared at the zeros. He had worked eighty hours a week across three jobs just to save five thousand dollars for Megan. Now, he was a millionaire just for existing.

​"System, give me the potion," Ryan whispered in his mind.

​[Vocal Cord Regeneration Potion administered. Host is advised to remain calm.]

​Overwhelming warmth flooded his chest like liquid sunlight. The heat traveled upward, centering on his crushed windpipe. The constant ache that had been his companion for three years intensified into a searing heat, making him arch his back. Then, it vanished.

​The silence broke.

Patter. Patter.

The rain had resumed. The world was moving again.

​Ryan sat up slowly. He touched his throat. The scarred skin felt smoother, though the external marks remained. He took a deep, effortless breath. No wheezing. No taste of blood.

​"Testing," Ryan said.

​His voice did not just come back. It resonated. It was deep, rich, and possessed a magnetic timbre that vibrated in the air around him. It carried absolute authority.

​Ryan stood up, his movements no longer sluggish. He looked at the scattered hundred dollar bills Logan had thrown. Earlier, they were a mark of shame. Now, they were just paper. He turned toward the campus gate without a second glance.

​He had a shift at The Sound Bar, an elite music cafe and instrument shop just off the academy grounds. It was where the rich students went to be seen, and where Ryan scrubbed espresso machines and polished guitars he was never allowed to touch.

​The neon sign flickered through the downpour as Ryan pushed the heavy glass door open. The entry chime rang.

​"You are twenty minutes late, Parker!"

​Tyler Bennett, the shop manager and a notorious sycophant for the wealthy students, marched toward him. He wore a vest two sizes too small and a fake gold watch that rattled on his wrist.

​"Look at you," Tyler sneered, pointing at Ryan’s dripping clothes. "You are tracking mud over the Italian tile. Do you know how much I paid for professional buffing? You look like a drowned rat."

​Ryan did not answer. He walked past Tyler toward the staff lockers, his expression unreadable.

​"Hey! I am talking to you, mute!" Tyler shouted. "Do not think you get to act like a diva just because Megan Harper is becoming a star. I heard what happened at the fountain. She finally realized you were a lead weight. Getting dumped must be hard on the ego."

​Ryan stopped. He slowly turned his head. For the first time in three years, he did not look down at his shoes.

​"The floor is wet because it is raining, Tyler," Ryan said.

​The silence was deafening. Tyler froze, his mouth hanging open. He stared as if he had just seen a ghost.

​"You," Tyler stammered, his voice climbing an octave. "You can talk?"

​"Since it stopped being your business," Ryan replied calmly. His voice was as smooth as aged bourbon. "Is the shift starting or are you going to keep gawking?"

​Tyler’s shock morphed into petty rage. He hated that even as a mute loser, Ryan understood the instruments better than he ever would.

​"I do not care if you found your voice in a gutter, Parker," Tyler hissed. "You are late. You are filthy. And your presence is bad for our brand. Logan Murphy just called. If I keep you on the payroll, Logan will not bring the showcase after party here."

​Ryan tilted his head. "You are choosing a student party over an employee?"

​"Reliable?" Tyler laughed a shrill, mocking sound. "You are a charity case. Logan Murphy is the future of the industry. You are just a janitor with a restored voice box. You are fired. Hand over the apron and get out of my sight."

​Ryan did not look surprised or angry. He simply pulled out his phone.

​"I will leave," Ryan said, his voice terrifyingly steady. "But first, who owns the lease on this building? Is it still Aaron Collins?"

​Tyler blinked, confused. "Mr. Collins? Yes, he owns the whole block. What does a beggar like you care? He would not even let you park your bicycle in his driveway."

​"Aaron Collins likes money more than loyalty," Ryan mused, his thumb moving across his screen. "He has been trying to sell the commercial rights to this row for six months. The asking price was three point five million."

​"How do you know that?" Tyler narrowed his eyes. "Stop playing with your phone. I told you to get out!"

​Ryan ignored him. He opened the private wealth management app the System had pre installed and dialed a number.

​"Mr. Collins?" Ryan said. "This is Ryan Parker. No, you do not know me, but I am standing in your shop at the academy gates. I understand you have a standing offer for the property at three point five million. I am offering four million. Cash. Right now. The only condition is that the deed transfer happens within five minutes and you send a digital notice of immediate ownership change to the current manager."

​Tyler started laughing a high pitched, hysterical sound. "Four million? You do not have four cents, Ryan! Who are you talking to? Your imaginary friend?"

​Ryan remained silent. Aaron Collins was a businessman, and four million dollars was irresistible bait.

​"Check your email, Tyler," Ryan said, hanging up.

​"You are insane," Tyler spat, grabbing Ryan to shove him toward the door. "I am calling campus security."

​Suddenly, the shop tablet let out a sharp, urgent ping. Then another. And a third.

​Tyler frowned and walked to the counter. "Collins never emails at this hour."

​He tapped the screen. As his eyes scanned the text, the color completely drained from his face.

​"To the management of The Sound Bar," Tyler whispered, reading aloud without realizing it. "Please be advised that as of 7:42 PM, the property and all business licenses have been sold to Mr. Ryan Parker. All current management contracts are subject to the new owner's discretion. Please extend your full cooperation to Mr. Parker."

​Tyler dropped the tablet onto the marble countertop. He turned around, his hands shaking violently.

​"Ryan," Tyler stammered, his voice a pathetic squeak. "I was just following company guidelines. Logan Murphy is very influential, and I thought..."

​Ryan stepped toward him with the predatory grace of someone who finally understood the rules of the game. He snatched the fake gold watch from Tyler’s wrist and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

​"You were worried about the Italian tile, were you not, Tyler?" Ryan asked.

​"I was just joking! You know I always liked your work ethic!" Tyler was practically hyperventilating. "Please, I have a mortgage. I have car payments!"

​Ryan pointed toward a corner where a mop bucket sat in dirty gray water.

​"You said I was a janitor," Ryan said softly. "You were right. This shop does need a janitor. But it is not me."

​Ryan leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

​"You are fired, Tyler. But I will give you a chance to earn a reference. Pick up that mop. Clean every single tile in this shop until I see my reflection. If there is a single drop of water left when I come back, I will make sure Aaron Collins sues you for every cent of inventory you skimmed off the top for the last two years."

​Tyler gasped. "How did you..."

​"I was a mute, Tyler. Not a blind man," Ryan said, turning his back. "Start scrubbing. I want to hear the mop, not your voice."

​As Tyler scrambled toward the mop bucket in a blind panic, Ryan walked toward the back of the shop. He headed for the Vault, a climate controlled room where the rarest instruments were kept.

​His phone vibrated again.

​[Ding! Mission: The First Revenge is complete.]

[Reward: 1000 System Points and the fragment of an SSS Rank Song: The King Return.]

​Ryan smiled a cold, sharp expression. He looked at the row of legendary guitars. For three years, he had been the ghost of the academy. In three days, he was going to be their god. He picked up a matte black Fender Stratocaster, his fingers moving over the strings with a familiarity that felt like coming home. He struck a single chord. It was loud, perfect, and defiant.

​Outside, the storm continued to rage, but for Ryan, the sun was finally beginning to rise.

​"I am coming for you, Logan," Ryan whispered to the empty room. "I hope your showcase is ready for a change in the weather."

​He sat on a stool, his eyes glowing with newfound fire. He began to play a hauntingly beautiful melody of resurrection and revenge, while the sound of Tyler frantically scrubbing the floor provided a satisfying percussion. This was only the beginning. He had one billion dollars, a commanding voice, and a heart finished with mercy. By the Starfall Showcase, the world would know the king had returned to reclaim everything stolen.

​Ryan leaned back, closing his eyes as the System fed the lyrics directly into his mind.

​"The boy you broke is the man you will mourn," Ryan hummed, testing the melody. "They'll all come crawling back to me."