For Noah Rolston, the weeks following his meeting at the Terania estate were a blur of progress. Securing the sponsorship had been the final and most important step in a plan he had spent years constructing. Everything was falling neatly into place.
He had spent his entire adult life preparing for this moment. He had studied sound engineering, business management, and music theory with equal obsession, and he had worked every minor studio job that would have him—from cleaning cables to composing jingles. The dream of forming his own group had begun during those long nights alone, when he saw how easily labels chewed up young artists and discarded them. He wanted to build something different—a boyband that valued precision, artistry, and individuality. He wanted a team bound by trust rather than signatures on a contract.
He called it EON, a name taken from a measure of time that never ends. To Noah, it represented permanence in an industry built on the temporary.
The rehearsal hall he rented was modest but efficient—white walls, scuffed floors, and a small stage surrounded by instruments. A single fluorescent light flickered above the door, but to Noah, it looked like the beginning of an empire. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the empty space. In his hand, he held a folder stamped with the Terania seal—their financial backing secured, their future finally tangible. For the first time in years, he allowed himself a quiet smile.
The members of EON arrived one by one.
Cassian Terania was first—Gideon's nephew, which had been a concern at the start. But Noah quickly learned that Cassian was no spoiled heir. He had charm, poise, and an effortless stage presence that made him magnetic. He could shift from humor to sincerity in a heartbeat, and audiences loved him even before he opened his mouth. His voice was a smooth baritone—steady, warm, and built for harmonies.
Next came Luca Rhee, a dancer turned vocalist whose background in choreography gave the group its physical edge. He was sharp-eyed, ambitious, and relentlessly self-critical, his intensity rivaling Noah's own. Where Cassian brought charisma, Luca brought discipline.
Theo Yuen followed—a quiet prodigy and the group's composer. His passion for digital production made him the backbone of EON's sound. He could take a handful of chords and transform them into a fully orchestrated track overnight. He and Noah often worked side by side in silence, their thoughts moving in the same rhythm.
Last to arrive was Jace Rho, still finishing a sandwich as he burst through the door. He was the youngest—restless, funny, and full of energy. He could win over a crowd with a single grin and was already being called the group's "heart." Noah found his optimism both irritating and necessary.
Together, they formed the balance he had envisioned: discipline and charm, intellect and emotion. They were not perfect, but they were grounded.
When they had all gathered, their chatter filled the empty room. Noah stepped forward and dropped the folder onto the table with a solid thud. The sound silenced them instantly.
"We have our sponsorship," he said. His tone was calm, but his eyes burned with quiet satisfaction. "The Terania Group will handle funding for our debut—studio access, promotion, marketing. Everything we need."
For a moment, no one moved. Then Jace let out a shout and threw his arms around Theo, nearly knocking him over. Luca grinned and shook his head in disbelief, and even Cassian—usually composed—laughed aloud.
"You're serious?" Cassian asked. "That's incredible, Noah."
Noah nodded once. "It means we can finally start recording. We'll be based here, but expect long hours. I'll push you harder than you've ever worked before. If anyone's not ready for that, say so now."
No one spoke. Their eyes gleamed with shared excitement.
"Good," Noah said. "Then we start tomorrow. I want our first single finished within a month. The team will coordinate schedules."
As if on cue, the door opened and several new figures entered—the beginnings of their production unit. Sound engineers, marketing strategists, stylists, and assistants filled the room. In an instant, the group looked less like a handful of dreamers and more like a professional enterprise. Clipboards clicked, cameras flashed for documentation, and someone wheeled in a rack of new instruments provided through the sponsorship.
Cassian turned to Noah with a grin. "You really did it."
Noah's expression softened. "No," he said. "We did."
Laughter filled the room as preparations resumed. EON finally had everything it needed—resources, structure, and direction. Noah watched the activity quietly, arms crossed, a faint trace of satisfaction on his lips. He had always believed control was the key to survival. Now, he finally held that control in his hands.
As the others tested microphones and tuned guitars, he stepped aside to review his notes. Between contracts, he noticed a folded sheet of paper—a handwritten message from Elara Terania, thanking him for his trust and saying how glad she was that he could rely on family again.
He ran his thumb over the ink. Family. The word echoed in his thoughts, just as it had when she had spoken it aloud. His mind drifted briefly to Mirabelle—the polite girl who had once followed him everywhere, always smiling, always reaching for his attention. Now, as far as he knew, she was his fiancée. The sponsorship, her parents' warmth, Elara's phrasing—it all fit neatly together. It made sense.
It felt, in a quiet way, like fate.
He pushed the thought aside. There was too much work ahead for sentiment.
By nightfall, EON's first official rehearsal was complete. The air buzzed with energy and the faint scent of coffee and sweat. As the last notes of their closing harmony faded, Noah closed his eyes.
This was the beginning of something vast, he thought—something that would outlive them all.