"Come in," a voice called from inside the dimly lit suite.
Ratik swiped the access panel, and the heavy doors hissed open. She stepped in first, with Dorian following close behind, his hands in the pockets of his techwear jacket.
As their eyes adjusted to the ambient lighting, the shadowed figure sitting opposite Mar Raila came into focus.
He was a Qerrian. His skin was a deep, rich Crimson, speckled with white markings that looked like constellations across his jawline. Unlike the wild, sensory-seeking tendrils of most of his kind, his head-tails were thick and braided into neat, heavy dreadlocks that cascaded over the shoulders of an intricately embroidered suit that probably cost more than Dorian's entire studio.
He looked up, his eyes scanning Dorian's casual attire, the tactical cargo pants, the hoodie, the sneakers.
"Heh," the Qerrian chuckled, a sound like grinding stones. "It's been a while since I met someone wearing something so... casual in a business setting."
'The fuck?' Dorian thought, his jaw tightening behind his mask. 'Is he trying to belittle me before we even start?'
Dorian didn't bow. He didn't apologize. He walked to the empty chair and sat down without waiting to be offered a seat.
"It is hard to put an effort in," Dorian replied, his voice calm, "when I never intended to meet under these circumstances."
The room went quiet. Ratik stiffened, ready to intervene.
Then, Mar Raila chuckled. The Qerrian threw his head back and laughed loud and hard.
"KAHAHAHAHAHA! Yes... he is Gil Nothos' disciple alright! The arrogance is identical!"
Ratik, sweating slightly, leaned in to whisper. "Composer, he is–"
But the man raised a crimson hand, silencing her. "It's okay. I haven't been treated as a 'nobody' since that old man Gil yelled at me twenty years ago. It's refreshing."
Raila smiled, sipping her drink. "It is my fault, really. I 'accidentally' made an appointment with both of you at the same time. Let me introduce you."
She gestured to the Qerrian. "This is Ezil Zesel. The CEO of Zesel Music Entertainment."
Dorian's mind raced. 'ZME. Another one of the "Big Three" alongside EMG and Scenery. They were the titans who maintained an undeniable stranglehold on the Accord's music industry. And Raila had "accidentally" invited him?'
'She lied,' Dorian realized. 'This is a setup.'
"Nice to meet you," Percival said, keeping his tone neutral.
Ezil leaned forward, his dreadlocks shifting with a heavy rustle. "You don't seem impressed, kid. Do you perhaps not know who I am?"
"I don't need to," Percival replied coolly. "And I never thought I had any connection with you. If you will excuse me, I am here to repay CEO Raila for her help."
Ezil smirked, revealing sharp, white teeth. "Oh, but you do have a connection with me, kid."
Percival tilted his head. "Percival. Or Composer. Let's redo our standing and call each other properly."
Ezil stared at the mask for a beat, then leaned back, amused. "Alright, I'll bite. You do have something on me, Composer. You see... GoldClick Records?"
Ezil paused for dramatic effect.
"They are my subsidiary. That's right. The label you are currently trying to burn to the ground... belongs to me."
The air in the room turned to ice. Dorian sat perfectly still. He was poking the eye of a leviathan.
"Well, well now," Raila interjected smoothly, acting the innocent host. "I am the one who 'accidentally' invited you both. How about talking about our future cooperation like we were here to do?"
Percival turned his masked gaze to the Qerrian. "Need I remind you who started the smear campaign, CEO Ezil?"
Ezil smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "This scale of retaliation hardly seems fair, does it? You pushed every path to lead them to ruin. You made it look like their own undoing. You destroyed a company over a single artist."
"There is no 'fair ground' to begin with," Percival said, his voice dropping an octave. "Nazir wasted ten years of his life to make them who they are. They took his youth, his voice, and his soul."
Dorian leaned forward, matching Ezil's intensity.
"In my eyes," Percival whispered, "it seems fair to take back what he gave."
Ezil narrowed his eyes, his sensory tendrils twitching as he studied the masked boy who dared to lecture a king about the cost of a crown.
The silence in the room was heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken threats. Ezil Zesel leaned back, his Crimson fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the armrest.
"Fine," Ezil said, his voice smooth but final. "GoldClick will not fall. As long as it is under me, it stands. You may have scratched the paint, kid, but the foundation of ZME is iron."
He stood up, adjusting his intricate suit with a deliberate slowness. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a stain to clean up."
He walked toward the door, his movements fluid and predator-like. His hand hovered over the panel, but he stopped. He turned his head slightly, fixing one unblinking eye on Dorian.
"Ah, and Composer," Ezil said softly. "Don't think this is over. I swear it under my Zesel family name."
The door hissed shut behind him, sealing the room in silence.
"Fufufu," Raila chuckled, breaking the tension. "That was smart of you."
Percival grabbed the cup of Teebu from the table, his hand trembling slightly now that the adrenaline was fading. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."
"For once, I am not," Raila said, her smile sharp. "This way, you intrigued him. You made him fight you on the same ground. A bit of a spoiler: if you had cowered under his gaze, I can assure you he would have taken his turn under the table, destroying you quietly and efficiently. But with the cards you dealt, you pushed his ego to play on the board. He wants to beat you publicly now."
In Dorian's mind, the internal monologue was screaming. 'Fuck. That was too much of a gamble. I just challenged one of the Big Three to a duel. I need to be ready for any underhanded tactic, even from this Raila woman.'
Percival sipped his Iced Teebu, masking his panic. "Maestro Gil made sure I was ready to step foot in the industry," he lied smoothly.
In his mind, he apologized. 'Sorry, old man. I'm borrowing your reputation as a shield for a second.'
…
Gil Nothos, in the middle of his nightly routine of polishing the Stradus, suddenly paused. He rubbed his left ear vigorously.
"Itchy," he grumbled. "Someone is talking about me."
…
"Fufufu, that old man sure does teach strange lessons," Raila laughed, pouring herself another drink.
Percival lean in, "So. Our business. You called me here saying you wanted to settle the payment now."
"Oh, the ever impatient, are we?" Raila teased.
She stood up and walked toward a sleek, black cabinet embedded in the wall. As she reached for the biometric scanner, the heavy silk sleeve of her gown slipped down, revealing her forearm.
Dorian blinked. But Raila didn't seem bothered. The cabinet clicked open, responding to her retinal scan. She reached inside and pulled out a single, heavy envelope.
She walked back to the sofa, adjusting her sleeve with a casual grace. "Fufufufu. Here is the payment."
She handed the envelope to Dorian. It felt heavy, made of thick, textured paper that smelled of old money. It was sealed with a wax stamp bearing the EMG crest.
Dorian broke the seal and pulled out the card inside. It was a formal invitation.
A Masquerade.
"I want you to come with me to the party," Raila said, smiling sweetly. "That is your payment. Be my plus one."
Percival looked up from the card. "This is it?"
Raila winked. "That's it. And it is a masked ballroom. Very on-brand for you, don't you think?"
Percival looked at the date. It was several months away. "I don't think I can–"
He started to protest, but Raila leaned forward and placed a single finger on his mouth, he could feel the warmth of her skin.
"It is a payment, Composer," she whispered. "Your only options are 'Yes' or 'Absolutely'."
Percival leaned back, escaping her touch. He sighed.
"Fine. I'll come."
Raila smiled fully, a triumphant expression that lit up the room. "Wonderful."
…
Dorian and Ratik stepped foot onto the boarding ramp of the Millennium Falcon. As the ramp hissed shut behind them, sealing them away from the opulent hotel and the suffocating presence of Ezil Zesel and Mar Raila, Dorian's legs turned to jelly.
He stumbled, grabbing the hydraulic strut for support.
"Holy shit," he breathed.
From behind him, Ratik let out a breath she had been holding for twenty minutes. "That was reckless, Dorian. Incredibly reckless."
Dorian took a full, deep breath, willing his heart rate to slow down. "Couldn't agree more. I poked the bear. No... I slapped the bear." He looked at Ratik, his eyes wide. "Hopefully we are ready when the time comes."
Ratik walked past him, her heels clicking on the metal grating. She sat in the cockpit seat, her fingers flying over the pre-flight checks. Her hands were steady, but her jaw was set tight.
"When we are ready," she said, flipping the ignition switch, "we will be ready. There is no going back now."
The Falcon's engines roared to life, a comforting, guttural sound. The ship lifted off, banking hard away from Sela and punching into the star-strewn blackness.
…
Several days later…
Another headline shocked the entertainment world, eclipsing even the Nazir Kal scandal.
BREAKING: CEO PIDACO NEVESS STEPS DOWN.
In a prerecorded announcement broadcast across the Stellarcast network, Pidaco sat in his home study, looking solemn and oddly relaxed in a casual sweater.
"The harassment directed at me and my family this past week has been overwhelming," Pidaco said, his voice carrying a practiced tremor of victimhood. "It has made me realize that life is short. It is time for me to step down as CEO of GoldClick Records and do what I love most: spend time with my family."
In Friton, Dorian watched the broadcast from his living room. He snorted.
"That's it?" Dorian muttered. "The fuck? He just... retires? No consequences?"
Lyra, sitting on the rug with her law textbooks, didn't look up. "Relax, Brother. You can't be mad and charge at your enemy at the same time. He's retreating. That's a win."
Dorian looked at her. "Did the academy teach lawyers to fight in the front line or something?"
"I take Battle Analysis class to fill in my quota," Lyra said matter-of-factly. "Sometimes the best victory is forcing the enemy to leave the field without firing a shot."
Dorian sighed, leaning back into the sofa. "You don't need to graduate fast, Lyra. Relax. Take your time."
Lyra smiled, closing her book. She walked over and patted Dorian's head, a reversal of their usual dynamic. "Don't worry, Brother. This is what I want."
She walked away to her room, leaving Dorian alone with the image of Pidaco's fake-sad face. He turned off the screen with a grunt.
…
Pidaco stood in his office one last time. The room was mostly packed into boxes. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the skyline of Sela.
"Boss," Kex said softly from the doorway.
Pidaco sighed. He overlooked the city he had loved. Down on the street level, a massive digital billboard flashed. It was an ad for Briane Taleini's new tour, coming to Sela in a few days. Her face, triumphant and radiant, beamed down on the city.
"Poetic," Pidaco murmured. "This is where it started. And this is where it ends."
"I'm sorry, sir," Kex said, bowing his head.
"If I didn't push it..." Pidaco whispered, tracing the condensation on the glass. "If I didn't let those billboards bother me... I wouldn't be in this situation."
Kex remembered the day. The day Briane suddenly dropped her album. The music video for Lovely, featuring Percival, had played on loop over that very billboard, visible from this very office. That short, burning obsession with destroying the "upstart" Percival had become a downward spiral that cost Pidaco everything.
Pidaco exhaled, turning away from the window. He had worked his way out of the slums, worked day and night to reach this position, this office. And he had thrown it away on a grudge.
"Take care of her for me," Pidaco said.
Kex bowed deeply. "Thank you for all your hard work, CEO."
But then, the lift doors hissed open.
Three people stepped out. Two were burly, armored figures that looked like private security. The third was a woman in a sharp, grey suit, holding a datapad.
She walked straight up to Pidaco. "Are you Pidaco Nevess?"
Pidaco straightened his jacket. "Yes."
She handed him a data chip. "You have been served."
Pidaco frowned, taking the chip. "For what?"
"For several lawsuits pushed against you from several of your ex-employees," the woman stated, her voice devoid of emotion. "The dates and further details are in there. With this, you have been notified and are prohibited to go out of the Sela system until further notice."
Pidaco felt his knees weaken.
"You have a legal obligation to respond by a set deadline," the woman continued. "If you do not, the court can rule against you without your side being heard, resulting in a default judgment. Are we clear?"
Pidaco felt numb. The world seemed to ring in his ears. The "retirement" plan, the escape to a private moon was gone. He was trapped.
"Yes," he whispered weakly.
The three figures turned and left without another word.
Kex watched as his former boss, the man who had once terrified an industry, fell to his knees on the plush carpet.
"CEO..." Kex whispered, taking a step forward. "Are you alright?"
…
The next day, the morning light on Astra Nova was crisp and clear. Lyra Kepler walked briskly toward the lecture hall, her bag slung over her shoulder. The tension of the last week was finally ebbing away, replaced by a quiet satisfaction.
"Little Lyra!"
Lyra turned. Hana Vhan was jogging towards her, her face flushed with excitement.
"Hey, Hana," Lyra said, waving. She walked toward her friend, noticing the bounce in Hana's step.
"I saw your post! The signed shirt!" Lyra teased, leaning in slightly. "Is my bro–I mean, Percival's signature really that valuable to you?"
Hana clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling, completely missing the slip in her excitement. "Kyyaaa! Of course! It's a holy relic!"
As they walked together toward the Art Nouveau building, Hana leaned in, her voice dropping to a hopeful whisper. "So... since I helped him out with the Pidaco situation... can you maybe ask Percival's manager to come to my system? Maybe do a concert?"
Lyra laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, I can't. It will be too much even for me. And besides, you haven't even done anything to help him yet, right?"
Hana stopped dead. She looked shocked. "Haaa? Did I not mention this to you yesterday?"
"What?" Lyra asked.
Hana leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I told my dad to make a call with a judge in Sela. You know, to be 'fair' with Pidaco's trials. Hehe."
Lyra frowned slightly. "Fair as in...?"
"Maximum sentences!" Hana chirped cheerfully.
Lyra's eyes widened. She laughed, a nervous sound bubbling up. "Whoa. I didn't think that was possible."
"Hehe," Hana giggled. "So... the concert?"
Lyra sighed, shaking her head. "That's too much, Hana. I'll tell you if he does do a concert, but he never does it except for his debut. It's almost like... he doesn't need the money. Or maybe he has another job entirely."
"I know..." Hana sighed dreamily. "He's so mysterious."
…
"Alright guys," Arthur announced, his voice echoing in the digital workspace. "Ready for our first campaign?"
The team was buzzing.
"Keep eyes on the forum," Arthur instructed. "Let's see how long it takes for people to find the first clue."
"Oh oh! The betting pool!" Bem shouted, rubbing his hands together.
"Alright," Lin Liseli said, pulling up a holographic scoreboard. "Before we update, let's make sure the betting pool is correct. We are betting on how long it will take for players to find the first clue and post it on the forum. In the pessimistic side, we have Mr. Dalle betting 25 days."
"Come on," Ross Dalle defended himself. "It's pretty elaborate to find it. You have to till a specific tile on a specific day!"
"Then Mr. Bem betting 18 days," Liseli continued.
"I think mine will win," Bem said confidently. "Gamers are smart, but not that smart."
"Mr. Kasavin with 12 days," Liseli noted. Kasavin nodded silently.
"Mr. Logan with 5 days," she added.
"They are good guys," Logan shrugged. "Never underestimate the hive mind."
"And lastly," Liseli grinned, "our Founder practically throwing his money away so we have a bigger pot... betting on 1 hour."
"Hey," Arthur laughed. "We have a passionate fan base. I believe in them."
"And me," Liseli finished, "I just bet on whoever wins! Ehe!"
The team booed her jokingly.
"Alright," Liseli announced. "With the rules that none of us can find and post, or even give the slightest hint to others... we will start the betting in 3... 2... 1!"
Arthur pressed the [UPLOAD UPDATE] button.
And so, an ordinary patch update for Stardew Valley was uploaded to the Void and Heliostore. The changelog mentioned "Bug fixes and minor text adjustments."
Unbeknownst to the players, this month's ordinary patch hid a marketing campaign the likes of which the galaxy had never seen before. A breadcrumb trail that would lead them straight to the gates of Hell.
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**