The soft, blue ring of the recording orb pulsed rhythmically on the glass table, capturing every breath and nuance in the quiet luxury suite.
"So," Mira began, her tone shifting from the formal introduction into a warm, conversational cadence. "Let us start simple. How are you doing today, Composer?"
Percival adjusted his posture, leaning comfortably back into the plush sofa. "Well, I suppose I don't know yet. I guess it depends entirely on how this interview goes, right?" He offered a brief, charming chuckle. "But it is good weather here in Sela. That must be a sign of a good day ahead."
Mira smiled, allowing herself a light chuckle to ease the mood even further. It was the perfect opening.
"Indeed, it is beautiful weather in Sela," Mira seamlessly pivoted. "Though, I imagine Sela might still be recovering from the weather you brought them last night. It was your first live performance almost entirely since your debut. The planet surely remembers it."
Percival shook his head slowly, a self-deprecating hum escaping him. "I doubt it was that memorable. I only played one song."
"Humble," Mira noted, her eyes glinting with journalistic sharpness. "I believe the one million people screaming your name in the Grand Selanian Stadium would fiercely disagree with you. But that begs the question... why there? And why then?"
Percival paused, tapping his gloved fingers lightly against his knee. "It was mostly a matter of coincidence, to be honest. Briane's final tour date aligned perfectly near my album release. Plus, with her being one of the featured artists on my album, it just made it feasible for all of these moving parts to come together. It felt like the right moment to celebrate her success and the new record."
Mira nodded, tapping a single note onto her datapad. "Yes, the new record. Let's talk about The Sun-Drenched Soul. It is a brilliant, incredibly tricky maneuver that none of the industry critics saw coming. Your previous works, from the likes of Skyfall to the cinematic weight of No Time To Die, they were heavy, dramatic, and deeply melancholic. The entire galaxy braced itself for a sad album today. But The Sun-Drenched Soul is pure, unapologetic warmth. What caused this massive shift in your musical emotional state?"
Percival let out a slow, quiet breath. The confident producer persona slipped just a fraction, revealing a glimpse of genuine vulnerability.
"Ah, yes," Percival admitted, his voice softening. "I've read some of the predictions and reviews leading up to the release. And to be completely honest with you, Mira... I was afraid."
Mira raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Afraid? The Maestro of Melancholy was afraid?"
"Afraid of disappointing my fans," Percival clarified, his hidden eyes looking toward the sunlit window. "When an audience falls in love with a specific feeling you give them, in my case, sadness or cinematic grief, pivoting away from that is a massive risk. I thought they might reject it. But... I believed in these new songs too much. I know the galaxy can be a cold, rigid place. I knew people would love a little sparkle of joy in their lives, even if they didn't expect it from me."
"Joy," Mira repeated, letting the word hang in the air. "It was indeed the exact feeling that came out of those tracks this morning. I felt it myself."
"Thank you," Percival said sincerely.
"However," Mira continued, a sly, investigative smile touching her lips as she leaned slightly closer to the orb. "I heard a rumor that one of the songs related to this era was created long before the others."
Percival tilted his head. "Oh? Which one?"
"A song titled Yesterday," Mira said smoothly, watching his reaction carefully. "Some of my deepest industry sources say it was birthed from a drunken challenge on the exact night of your debut concert with Maestro Gil Nothos."
Sitting beside Dorian, Ratik's eyes briefly widened before narrowing at the reporter. That was a tightly kept secret from the after-party.
Percival froze for a split second before a highly awkward, entirely un-producer-like laugh burst out of him. "Hahaha... ah... yeah."
He rubbed the back of his neck, sounding exactly like a teenager who had just been caught sneaking out. "That was... it was a fifteen-minute writing challenge. Someone was pushing my buttons. I don't even know what came over me, really. But that night was just a raw snippet of what the track is today. I had it extensively polished in the studio later. So don't worry, listeners, the music you hear from me now is not just my drunken thoughts."
Mira laughed, a bright, victorious sound. "Addressing the readers already, I see. But that is genuinely shocking. Fifteen minutes for a masterpiece. It makes one wonder... if fifteen minutes gets us that, what does months of your time get us?"
Percival finally relaxed, his confident, easy smile returning beneath the mask as he gestured broadly.
"This album, haha."
Mira let out a bright, genuine laugh, the tension in the room easing even further. "Hahaha... yes, I suppose months of your time does yield quite the result."
She shifted her posture, adjusting her glasses as her tone grew slightly sharper, signaling a pivot. "But while we are on the topic of your creative timeline, you've used your timing very deliberately this year. Be it a coincidence like joining Briane's final tour, or the specific voices you chose to highlight. Surely, some of your featured artists were not mere coincidences."
Percival nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean Juno. Well, she isn't actually focusing on a music career right now. She has... other, much heavier responsibilities. But her vocal recordings were part of the very first batch of songs that were finished for the album. So, I thought I might as well put her on the record. Her voice grounds the entire project."
Mira offered a polite, knowing smile, shaking her head slightly. "I'm sure rising star Juno has a brilliant path ahead of her. But I am actually talking about your other feature. Nazir Kal."
Beside Dorian, Ratik's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. This was the territory she had been waiting for.
Mira leaned slightly forward, her eyes locking onto the dark lenses of Percival's mask. "You actively bypass the traditional record label ecosystem. You took Nazir Kal, an artist who was just publicly kicked out of his agency, a man that had officially red-flagged as 'unmarketable' and you put him front and center on what is already tracking to be a record-breaking album. So, tell me, Composer... are you intentionally trying to dismantle the industry's status quo, or is this disruption just a byproduct of your creative process?"
The suite fell quiet save for the soft, rhythmic pulsing of the recording orb.
Percival let the weight of the question settle before he answered, his voice calm and entirely unbothered.
"That is just fate," Percival said simply.
Mira raised her pen, intrigued. "Fate? Can you elaborate on that, Composer?"
Percival adjusted his gloves, resting his hands in his lap. "A few months ago, both Nazir and I were being used to besmirch each other's names. Be it one way or the other, the specifics don't matter now. The people involved in that particular label drama used my name and my sudden rise to catch the media's attention, and in the process, they used Nazir's personal life as collateral damage to ruin both of our reputations."
"A camaraderie born from crisis, then?" Mira suggested softly.
"Camaraderie from crisis," Percival echoed with a soft chuckle. "Remind me to use that as an album title someday. Haha. But in all seriousness... that drama mostly ruined his career. I have my anonymity. When the media storm hit, I could still walk down the street. People don't clamor and shove their datapads in my face, and paparazzi don't capture me when I'm out in public buying groceries. Nazir didn't have that luxury. His face was everywhere, taking the brunt of a manufactured scandal."
Percival paused, his tone shifting into something fiercely protective of the music he curated. "He is an incredible talent. In a way, by putting him on this record, I just wanted to push the stars to let them burn brighter. The industry tried to snuff him out; I just gave him the microphone back."
Mira stared at him, profoundly struck by the raw honesty and lack of corporate spin in his answer. She reached out and took a slow sip of her iced water, letting his words fully digest on the audio log.
She set the glass down, her journalistic instincts seizing the perfect segue he had just handed her.
"There is immense power in that anonymity, just like you said," Mira noted, her voice steady and probing. "You can buy your groceries in peace while your music changes the galaxy. But some critics argue there is also a severe lack of accountability in that power. Does the mask allow you to break the industry rules without facing the personal consequences that other, visible artists do?"
At the mention of accountability and the evasion of consequences, Percival visibly shifted on the plush sofa. It was a direct, surgical strike to the very core of his public persona.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ratik instantly lean forward, her protective instincts flaring.
"Mira–" Ratik began, her voice dropping to a warning register, ready to shut the line of questioning down.
But Percival held out his hand, gently cutting his manager off. "Indeed."
Ratik clamped her mouth shut and slowly leaned back, though her eyes remained fixed on the reporter.
Percival turned his full attention back to the recording orb. "I couldn't say that the mask doesn't help shelter me in the eyes of the public. It does. But ultimately, my creations must speak for themselves. To this second, I haven't done anything the industry hasn't already done in the shadows; I just did it in the light. I'm not going to be so naive as to say every artist should wear a mask and hide their face. But... this works for me."
Mira didn't back down. She pushed further, her voice gentle but insistent. "Yes, but if it were just about creative freedom, you could simply release music under a new name, or perhaps create a new persona for a new genre. With The Sun-Drenched Soul, you've just shown the galaxy that your capacity for creation is vastly wider than we ever thought. Why keep it all under the Percival moniker if the mask is just a shield?"
Percival let out a slow exhale, the sound catching slightly on the audio pickup.
"Yes," Percival admitted, his voice dropping into a quieter, far more vulnerable cadence. "I could do that. But I also might say... the paranoia, and all sorts of other feelings I've harbored all this time, have been making me constantly second-guess myself."
Mira's pen stopped. "Second-guessing?"
"I've been thinking about it," Percival confessed, staring at the blue light of the orb. "I think about the impact and the influence I could command by revealing myself. The fame. The praise. But at the same time, I am deeply paranoid of someone else revealing it for me. The thought of it makes me restless in the middle of the night. But this mask... it was my choice. And these kinds of things, once done, cannot be undone. So for now, yes. I will still hide myself, and others can theorize about my choices all they want."
Mira looked at him, completely captivated by the raw, unguarded confession. She had expected corporate deflection; instead, she got the midnight anxieties of a musical titan.
Recognizing that she had struck gold and not wanting to push him past his comfort zone, Mira looked down at her notes and smoothly transitioned.
"On a much lighter note," Mira smiled, completely changing the atmosphere in the room. "It is no secret that you are closely tied to Maestro Gil Nothos. After all, your grand debut was also his highly anticipated comeback."
Percival laughed, the heavy tension instantly evaporating from his shoulders. "Hahaha, yes! And then the old man immediately re-retired again–"
Percival froze. He slapped a hand over the mouthpiece of his mask.
"Oops," Percival winced, his professional aura completely shattering into that of a panicked teenager. He leaned closer to the orb. "I mean... Maestro Gil. Can you please change that to 'Maestro Gil' in the transcript?"
Mira beamed, thoroughly charmed by the slip-up. "Of course, Composer. As per our contract, you have the right to request some editorial adjustments."
Percival gave a highly exaggerated, theatrical nod of relief.
Mira continued, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "However, while Maestro Gil champions you, Lady Rita Bralare has also publicly claimed you as her one and only student. How do you navigate the immense expectations of the old guard while clearly paving a completely new path?"
Percival hummed, impressed. "Oh, that is a very good question."
He sat back, his demeanor returning to that of the thoughtful prodigy. "I won't say that I paved this path solely on my own. I would say... I pick and choose from the paths of others. We are all standing on the shoulders of legends, Mira. Gil taught me weight. Rita taught me precision. But I also won't gloat when all this success comes my way. The path ahead is still very long, and the destination is still so far."
He looked out the window at the bright Selanian sky. "So, I will definitely break the path. I will walk down all sorts of different paths. Because I want to make sure that when I finally reach the end and look back... the path I left behind was entirely mine."
Mira smiled, highly satisfied with the depth of his answer. She looked back down at her datapad, her finger scrolling to the next section.
"A lot of critics call you a 'once-in-a-century genius,'" Mira noted, her tone inquisitive. "But Maestro Gil recently hinted to me that your true secret is simply how much you enjoy the work. So, tell me... how much of Percival is natural talent, and how much is just relentless obsession?"
Percival let out a low, slightly shy laugh. He crossed his arms, looking down at the glass table. "I can't really say anything about my own talent. That's for others to decide. But I do know that I genuinely love this. These songs might seem so small in the grand scale of the galaxy, but as long as there are people out there who want to hear them, I'm not going anywhere."
He paused, gesturing politely for a brief hold. He picked up the glass of iced water from the table. Tipping his head back slightly, he carefully slipped the rim of the glass beneath the lower edge of his mask and took a long, refreshing sip.
He set the glass down with a soft clink and continued seamlessly. "And as for the obsession part... well, I will admit that I do pull a lot of all-nighters."
Mira jotted a quick note, her smile widening. She seamlessly shifted to the next topic. "Speaking of your listeners, the galactic net is currently divided into two very distinct camps about you: those actively trying to hack your true identity, and those fiercely protecting your right to the mask. Do you ever read what the fans say about you online?"
"I must say that I do," Percival answered honestly. "It's incredibly reassuring to see people support you with such passion. But the net is a double-edged sword. If you believe the overwhelming praise, you also have to believe the overwhelming hate. I don't want to put all my chips on internet validation. So... yes, I read it, but only sometimes."
"A very healthy boundary," Mira commended. "But since you do read the forums, how about the recent rumor regarding you working on a secret project for an indie game developer called Round Table Studio?"
Beneath the mask, Dorian's heart gave a slight, microscopic jump. He forced a highly amused, breezy chuckle.
"Ah, yes," Percival said smoothly. "A rumor that has followed me since the very day I uploaded my first video on Stellarcast. I can see why people think it, to be honest. They released their first game around the exact time I uploaded my first song."
Mira tilted her head, clearly intrigued. "Oh? It seems you know their timeline more intimately than people speculate."
Percival waved a hand dismissively, falling perfectly into his alibi. "Well, when millions of people tag me in posts telling me I secretly work on something, I naturally need to go see their product. And honestly? It's not bad. Their Stardew ambience fits their style perfectly, somewhat blocky like their... ah, pixel style. And their Hades OST? It was good."
Mira studied him for a second. "You sound very detached when you talk about their OST. It is a brilliant soundtrack, but you view it objectively. So, is it really not your creation?"
Percival shook his head, a hidden, highly ironic smirk playing on his lips. "It is an honor to be compared to a whole studio. I think a little bit of competition can be good for the industry."
Mira's eyes suddenly widened behind her glasses. Her journalistic brain connected the dots he had just seemingly laid out for her.
"Wait," Mira said, leaning slightly closer to the recording orb. "Are you saying that the way to compete with you... is to have the collective power of a whole gaming studio? A corporate entity where there are possibly tens to hundreds of people behind the music?"
Percival just sat there. He didn't confirm it. He didn't deny it. He just offered a slow, incredibly cheeky smile that was just barely visible beneath the edge of his mask.
"I'm not saying anything," Percival murmured.
Mira grinned, a thrill of pure adrenaline rushing through her. She was profoundly grateful she had chosen to help this young composer during the Goldclick drama. He wasn't just a musical prodigy; he knew exactly how to play the media game. Without confirming a single negative thing, he had just handed her a massive, headline-worthy quote.
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**