"Congrats."
The word sliced through the air the moment Ethan stepped into the VVIP lounge.
It was Rebecca's voice — loud, sharp, cutting through the residual hum in his ears like a blade. She was standing near the glass walls, flanked by her two ever-present assistants. Bella was to her right, her smile wild and untamed, eyes practically twinkling as if she had seen a constellation being born on stage. There was a manic glint in her gaze, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her phone, no doubt firing off posts that would ignite another viral spark.
On Rebecca's left stood Kiesha, poised, composed — the complete opposite of Bella's electric energy. Her face wore no real smile, only the faintest curve of professional acknowledgment, like she had a thousand other things to do but chose to grace this moment with her presence. Her handshake greetings were brief, more symbolic than heartfelt. She wasn't here to cheer. She was here to strategize.
Ethan, still soaked in the aftermath of the concert, felt like an intruder in this realm of glossy perfection. The roar of the 60,000-strong crowd still echoed in his mind, the ghost of their screams vibrating in his bones. His skin glistened with sweat, strands of blond hair clinging to his forehead, his T-shirt plastered to his back like a second skin. His breaths were heavy, deep pulls as if he had just outrun a hurricane and won.
He stood there — a stark contrast to the room's polished elegance — as the clapping began.
At first, it was just Rebecca, her hands coming together in rhythmic, deliberate applause. Bella followed, almost instinctively, though hers was more animated, as if she wanted to jump up and down but knew better. Kiesha joined too, a measured tempo, just enough to be polite but nothing more. The others in the VVIP lounge — executives, influencers, and industry big shots — caught on a second later. A ripple of applause spread through the room.
But this was no stadium.
This applause was controlled, restrained, measured like the people giving it. It didn't crash over him like the tidal wave he had left on stage. It was more like a nod, a ceremonial gesture of approval from people who didn't scream, but signed contracts that made others scream.
Ethan smiled back, waving lightly, the motion slow, almost sluggish from the adrenaline crash. The clapping lasted no more than ten seconds before it dissolved into the usual hum of murmurs and clinking glasses. Controlled. Business-like.
He started making his way towards Rebecca, his sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished marble floor.
"That was a nice show," she said, not looking up from her phone. Her thumbs were a blur, firing off messages at bullet speed.
Beside her, Bella was grinning at the screen, practically bouncing on her toes. "Nice show doesn't even BEGIN to cut it," she said, her voice giddy. "We're everywhere. Trending number one on twitter, TikTok is on fire. Ethan, they're calling it the concert of the decade again — some are even saying century. Do you have ANY idea what you just did?"
Kiesha, ever the calm voice amidst the chaos, scrolled through a different feed. "We're clocking six million posts in the last hour alone," she added, her tone clinical, "Livestream replays are exploding. UMG servers are about to fry. And we've got three major outlets requesting exclusive behind-the-scenes footage within the next thirty minutes."
Bella was already crafting captions, throwing out taglines like grenades. "We need to double-push the hologram clip. That thing where you pointed at your name in the sky—people are LOSING it. Oh, and the Prime shot. Viral. Viral. Viral."
Kiesha, barely glancing up, muttered, "We'll release it at staggered intervals. Let them breathe, but not too much. Keep them hungry."
Ethan listened, half-dazed, as the two of them buzzed around Rebecca like hyper-efficient bees, managing the chaos of his success in real-time. Rebecca, ever the queen bee, finally looked up from her screen, her red lips curling into a smirk.
Ethan stood still as two assistants swooped in, their movements so synchronized it was like they shared a brain. They weren't fussing — not the way strangers would — they were his regulars now. Every concert, every shoot, every whirlwind appearance, these two had become his silent pit crew. One dabbed gently at his forehead with a soft towel, patting away the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin like a second layer. The other moved with clinical efficiency, adjusting the collar of his shirt, straightening it before sliding a sleek black jacket over his shoulders — the exact one his stylist had insisted on for this aftershow appearance. The jacket was sharp, tailored to perfection, making him look less like a drenched rockstar and more like a cover model for a luxury magazine.
He didn't flinch at their touch anymore. He'd gotten used to it.
But his eyes stayed fixed on Rebecca.
"About that last bit," he said, tilting his head slightly, his tone calm but curious. "You sure it was okay? It kinda felt odd."
Rebecca didn't even look up from her phone at first. Her fingers were busy, tapping, scrolling, managing digital fires with a smile that could either be called predatory or supremely confident — depending on which side of the business you were on. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his, it was with that sly, composed smirk of someone who had already calculated every possible outcome.
"Don't worry about that," she said smoothly, her voice slipping into full strategist mode. "We've gone through all the details with Vivienne. Look, there'll be a little backlash, maybe some purists will cry about commercial sellouts — but let them cry. The noise will only fuel the fire. The amount of traction we'll get from that stunt? The exposure? It outweighs any little tantrum. Trust me, Ethan, they know what they're doing she is good at her job i can't lie."
Ethan exhaled, half a nod, half a surrender. "Okay then."
Rebecca's eyes gleamed. She was about to continue, lips parting to segue into her next topic, when—
"ETHAN! ETHAN!"
The booming voice rolled through the room like a cannon blast, drowning out the murmurs and subdued conversations. A hearty, belly-deep laugh followed it, echoing off the walls. Ethan turned his head, a grin already tugging at his lips.
There he was.
Bill.
His agent. His bull-in-a-china-shop agent.
Bill barreled toward him, larger than life, his broad smile lighting up the room with an energy that didn't match the VVIP's usual sleek professionalism. He was clapping — no, slapping — his hands together with such force it was like he was trying to conduct his own personal encore.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him, a guy and a girl trailed in his wake. Ethan's eyes locked onto the guy instantly.
Paul.
Bill's son.
His old friend.
"Ethan, my boy!" Bill bellowed, grabbing Ethan by the shoulders and giving him a good-natured shake, his palms landing on Ethan's back like celebratory hammers. "What a goddamn SHOW! Jesus, kid, you outdid yourself! That Prime bit? Marketing orgasm, my friend. I'm getting offers flying into my inbox as we speak!"
Ethan was chuckling, swaying slightly from Bill's enthusiastic onslaught, when Paul stepped forward, a grin stretched across his face.
"Ethan, man, it's been way too long," Paul said, his tone warm, familiar, but laced with that nostalgic disbelief, like he still couldn't believe they were meeting again like this.
Ethan's grin widened, his hand shooting out to clasp Paul's in a firm shake before pulling him into a brief, brotherly hug. "I didn't even know you were coming, man. How've you been? Did you enjoy the show?"
Paul let out a short laugh, gesturing to the room, the lingering energy still thrumming through the walls. "Enjoy? I couldn't NOT come. Had to see it with my own eyes. You're a force now, Had to see the madness up close."
He then turned slightly, his arm motioning towards the woman beside him. "Oh, and this is Victoria — my girlfriend."
Victoria extended her hand, composed, polished, yet there was a warmth in her smile that cut through the VVIP stiffness. "Ethan, it's a pleasure. That performance was… electrifying. Honestly, I didn't expect to be this blown away, but you've got something special."
Ethan shook her hand, his touch light, his smile easy. "Thank you. Means a lot. I'm glad you both came."
But before the conversation could deepen, Bill clapped his hands again, his signature entrance and exit cue all in one. His grin was wide, and his eyes gleamed with that signature "agent's instinct" — the radar that always knew when to seize a moment.
"Alright, alright, enough with the catching up later," Bill said, slinging an arm loosely around Ethan's shoulder. "Kid, we're making rounds. There's a whole damn kingdom waiting for you to shake hands and kiss babies. Executives, directors, CEOs, hell, even The Rock's here. You're gonna meet them all."
Ethan chuckled, already being subtly maneuvered by Bill through the lounge. He shot Paul a quick grin over his shoulder. "Round two, huh?"
Paul laughed. "Round two."
But this wasn't a concert encore.
This was a different kind of stage.
As Bill led him through the sea of tailored suits and diamond necklaces, Ethan began another performance — not for screaming fans this time, but for the power brokers of the industry. Directors whose movies had grossed billions, record label moguls whose decisions could pivot careers overnight, the CEO of Spotify himself, raising a glass in Ethan's direction with a knowing smile.
He met a few Kardashian sisters, exchanged light pleasantries with them, cameras clicking in the background. He shook hands with Dwayne Johnson, The Rock himself, the man whose energy could match Bill's in sheer gravitational pull. That handshake wasn't just a greeting — it was a passing of torch, a nod of mutual respect.
Throughout it all, Ethan moved with a kind of casual charm, not forced, not rehearsed. Fame had introduced him to the world, but this — this was different. Bill was working the room like a maestro, introducing Ethan to every gatekeeper, every influencer, every tastemaker who mattered.
And in between, when the storm of introductions eased for brief pockets of time, he found himself conversing again with Adele, Eminem, and 50 Cent. The two rappers, though clearly ready to vanish from the social circus, took a moment longer to clasp his hand, give him that extra nod of approval, the kind of nod that wasn't given lightly. Then, like titans returning to their caves, they left.
He had fame, yes.
But now… now Bill was building his empire.
Ethan was laughing, that easy, infectious laugh of his, as he stood beside Rihanna. The two of them were leaned in close, the surrounding noise of the VVIP room melting into a soft hum. Rihanna had just made a cheeky comment about his collaboration with Eminem, her lips curling into that signature, mischievous grin.
"I mean, you handled Slim pretty well on that track," she teased, her accent dancing through her words.
Ethan let out a playful groan, shaking his head. "Please, you know way more than me about working with him. I'm still new to the trenches, you're basically a general."
Their chemistry was effortless — the kind where you'd think they'd known each other for years, despite this being one of their few real conversations. There was a comfort between them, a rhythm to their exchange that made the VVIP room feel less like a high-stakes networking hub and more like two artists connecting in their own bubble.
Ethan, always the joker, grinned and leaned a bit closer. "Though, you know, I was kinda hoping you'd be one of them surprising the crowd with me tonight. You, me, on stage? That would've been legendary."
Rihanna laughed, her head tilting back, eyes sparkling. "You're crazy."
"I mean it," Ethan pressed, eyes glinting. "Would've been one step closer to completing the Pokémon set."
There was a pause.
A beat of silence as Rihanna blinked, clearly not following. Ethan noticed immediately—the slight furrow of her brows, the confusion dancing behind her smile. He gave an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, anime reference. That probably sounded really dumb."
Rihanna just smiled, a low, amused chuckle escaping her. "You're cute. But no, it didn't sound dumb. I'm just on a break from music right now, you know how it is… but hey, who knows? Maybe there's a chance for that collab later down the line."
Ethan's smile softened into something more genuine, more personal. "That would be beautiful. I'll hold you to your word."
As their exchange lingered, Bill was already at work. The ever-sharp agent slid into the conversation, his business instincts kicking in as he exchanged numbers and a few well-placed words with Rihanna's team. Ethan caught the interaction out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly. Bill never missed.
But then—
"Ethan!"
His name, this time, wasn't barked or shouted with booming bravado. It was softer, more personal, but urgent nonetheless.
He turned his head and his face instantly brightened. "Jessica!" he called out, voice laced with genuine delight. His arms extended outwards as if he was about to embrace an old friend. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in forever!"
But as Ethan moved towards her, his joy stumbled.
Jessica wasn't smiling.
Her face was sharp, features drawn thin, and though she masked it well, there was a flicker — a faint crease between her brows, a tension in her jawline. It wasn't the look of someone basking in the afterglow of a historic concert. No, it was something else. Something heavier.
She offered a small nod, her voice measured, controlled. "Ethan, we can catch up later… for now, there's someone here you need to meet."
Ethan's smile faltered.
There was a shift in the air, subtle but undeniable. The lightness of the evening dimmed just a little, like a cloud gently drifting in front of the sun. His playful, easy-going facade didn't crack — not completely — but there was a slight tightening in his expression, an instinctual brace for whatever this was.
Jessica's tone wasn't casual. Her words weren't a suggestion.
Ethan's eyes flicked sideways, his ears catching the sound before his brain had fully registered it — a voice. Low, raspy, textured like gravel dragged across velvet. It wasn't loud, but it carried. The kind of voice that could fill an arena without ever needing to raise in volume.
"So… is this the elusive superstar I've been hearing so much about?"
Ethan's head snapped in the direction of the voice.
His breath hitched.
His eyes widened, just a fraction, but enough. His body seemed to freeze for a half-second, shoulders stiffening, his pulse suddenly pounding in his ears.
The room didn't fall silent — not yet — but for Ethan, time had slowed.
His gaze locked on the figure approaching, details slowly sharpening in his vision, though his mind was still catching up.
He didn't say a word.
Couldn't.
But the expression on his face — the flicker of shock, the mixture of disbelief and curiosity — said everything.