The bass was so loud that Tobi could feel it in his teeth.
Inside the packed hall of the Faculty of Arts, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and sweat. Hundreds of students were screaming, their phone flashlights waving in the dark like a sea of digital stars. This was "The Big Link-Up," the biggest concert of the semester, and Tobi was the headliner.
Backstage, Tobi stared at himself in a small, cracked mirror. He looked like a star. He was wearing a custom denim jacket with "TOBI-G" spray-painted on the back. His hair was perfectly styled, and his social media notifications were blowing up.
"Two minutes, man! You're on!" his manager, Segun, shouted over the noise. Segun clapped him on the back. "The big scouts from Lagos are in the front row. Sing that new song 'Body on Fire.' If you hit that high note, your life changes tonight. No more Mellanby Hall. No more trekking to lectures. Just luxury, bro."
Tobi tried to smile, but his stomach felt like it was full of cold stones.
He reached into his pocket and felt a small, crumpled piece of paper. It was a note his mother had tucked into his bag when he left home last month. It had one Bible verse written on it: "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"
He quickly shoved the paper back into his pocket. Not now, he told himself. God will understand. I just need this one break.
THE PERFORMANCE
"Please welcome... the Voice of the University... TOBI-G!"
The crowd exploded. Tobi stepped out onto the stage, and the spotlights blinded him. For a moment, he felt like a god. The fans reached out to touch his shoes. The music started—a heavy, infectious beat designed to make people lose their minds.
He began to sing. His voice was flawless. He moved across the stage with confidence, pointing at the scouts in the front row. They were nodding, already typing on their phones. This was it. The "Blow" (success) he had prayed for was finally happening.
But then, right in the middle of the second verse, something happened.
Tobi looked toward the back of the hall, near the exit. Standing there, far away from the flashing lights, was a small group of students. He recognized them. It was the Campus Christian Fellowship (CCF). They weren't dancing. They weren't screaming. They were just... looking at him.
One of them was Brother Jude. He didn't look angry. He looked sad.
Suddenly, the lyrics Tobi was singing felt like sand in his mouth. He was singing about things he didn't believe in—money he didn't have, and a lifestyle that felt empty. In his heart, he heard a whisper, a sound quieter than the bass but stronger than the speakers:
"Tobi, whose song are you singing?"
THE CRACK IN THE MASK
His voice faltered for a second. The music continued, but Tobi felt like he was under water. He looked at the crowd, and for the first time, he didn't see fans. He saw hungry souls looking for something real, and he was giving them poison wrapped in sugar.
The "Neon Lights" started to feel like an interrogation. He hit the high note—the one Segun said would change his life—and the hall went crazy. But inside, Tobi felt a sharp pain, as if something was tearing in his soul.
He finished the song and walked off stage while the crowd screamed his name.
"You killed it!" Segun screamed, hugging him. "The scouts want to talk now! They have the contract ready in the VIP lounge!"
Tobi stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face. His phone buzzed. It was a text from the CCF group chat he had muted weeks ago: "We are praying for you tonight, Tobi. Remember the Fountain."
Tobi looked at the VIP lounge where fame was waiting. Then he looked at the exit where the "Quiet Voice" was calling.
The world was cheering. But God was waiting.
©️ YURIWRITES 🖋️📘