The open-air stadium felt more like a riot than a concert. Fans surged through the gates like a flood, their excited screams vibrating against the concrete.
"I heard the Crimson Girls sold out a hundred thousand tickets for this!" one teenager shrieked, clutching her lightstick.
"I would've died if I didn't get a seat!" her friend yelled back over the roar.
Nearby, an influencer stared at her phone in disbelief. "Five million people on my Weibo live stream... damn, the world is watching."
At the very front of the VIP section, a girl tried to slip into an empty seat, only to be blocked by a security guard. "Sorry ma'am, this spot is reserved."
The girl's face twisted. "Reserved? I got here first! If the owner isn't here, it's mine."
The guard didn't budge, his expression flat. "I can't allow that. Please move."
"Hmph! You tell that person they're late, because I'm not moving an inch—"
"Is there a problem here?"
The voice was like silk, cutting through the girl's tantrum instantly. The bickering girl froze. She looked up at the newcomer and felt the air leave her lungs. It wasn't just the height or the face that belonged on a high-end magazine cover—it was the aura. This woman stood with a cold, effortless grace that made everyone around her feel small.
The girl swallowed hard and forced a shaky smile. "I... I was just leaving."
The newcomer tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft, melting smile.
"Are you... an idol?" the girl whispered, starstruck.
The woman's eyes glinted with a hidden meaning. "Something like that."
"Can I—please, a photo?"
The woman gave a small nod. After the flash cleared, the girl scurried away, still glancing back over her shoulder. How do I not know her? She's too gorgeous to be a nobody.
The lady settled into her seat, smoothing her skirt. "Enjoy your show," she whispered to herself, savoring the words. Oh, she was going to enjoy it. Every single second.
The stadium plunged into sudden darkness. A sea of a thousand lightsticks flickered to life, and four girls—The Crimson Girls—strutted onto the stage. The crowd erupted into a deafening roar.
At the front, the woman didn't cheer. She leaned back, a lazy, bored expression masking the fire in her eyes.
The group leader gripped her microphone, shouting to the heavens, "Tonight, we bring you the music that shook the universe!"
A sharp smirk tugged at the woman's cherry-red lips. She lowered her head, hiding her face as the stage lights began to swell.
Silence fell. The music was about to start.
But before the first note could play, the massive projector screens behind the group flickered. Instead of the Crimson Girls' logo, a single face filled the screen.
The four idols froze. They stared up at the giant display, their blood turning to ice. The face on the screen was a mirror of the woman sitting in the front row—viciously beautiful and very much alive.
The leader's gaze snapped down to the audience, locking onto the woman in the VIP seat. Her jaw dropped. It was like looking at a ghost. The microphone slipped from her trembling fingers, hitting the stage with a piercing, ear-splitting screech.
Leisurely, the woman in the front row reached into her bag. She pulled out a cap and tugged it over her hair. Bold, neon letters on the front screamed: SURPRISE.
The leader's knees turned to jelly. She hit the floor with a dull thud, clutching her head as if it were about to burst. Her bandmates didn't even look back; they had already scrambled away, abandoning her in the spotlight.
Two burly men in suits marched onto the stage, hauling the leader away.
The woman in the front row didn't rush. She stood up, uncrossing her long legs, and adjusted a dark mask over her face. She climbed the stage steps with the confidence of a queen returning to her throne.
Picking up the fallen microphone, she turned to the stunned crowd.
"The show has ended," she announced, her voice echoing through the silence. "Feel free to leave. Or stay and see what real music sounds like."
The crowd began to grumble, confused and angry—until she sang.
The first note tore through the air, so pure it felt ethereal. It was the exact song the Crimson Girls had promised to perform, but this version was different. It had soul. It had power. It was the original.
The fans who had started for the exits stopped in their tracks. Some even ran back in, drawn by the haunting melody. No one dared to breathe.
When the final note faded, the silence lasted for an eternity. Then, the stadium exploded. The roar was louder than anything the Crimson Girls had ever received. People were crying, screaming, and reaching toward the stage.
The influencer from earlier stared at her screen, her hands shaking. "Thirty million... thirty million people are watching this live!"
The masked woman looked out at the chaos she had created. Under her mask, her smirk widened. My songs are mine alone, she thought. This is just the beginning.
Without a word, she turned and vanished into the shadows of the backstage, leaving the "Star Circuit" in ruins behind her.
——***—— ~~
In a high-end restaurant, a women swirled a wine cup in her hand.
Her eyes were narrowed and phoenix like fulled with fierceness as she stared at nothing in particular.
She was none other than Miss Nyxara—the dashing lady who had taken the spotlight of the concert.
Her eyes were getting more red and a drop of tear fell from them as memories filled head.
Slave! She had been a slave to star circuit bighit industry, every song every lyrics she wrote was given straight to the famous groups without any credit without any firm of payment, Crimson girls was the girl group she was assigned to.
Her friend, a very close one, a guy who liked her had stood up for her but was shot in the head falling off the cliff.
And then hers went next as she was shot in the heart also falling and drowning in the water below.
However fate had other options other than death for her...
And so, she was reborn, her face and body going through a transformation as her natural beauty became more breathtaking and her slender curves becomimg more sharp.
She was sure her revenge is going to be delivered in full package.
And just as she kept on staring with such intensity, a man's low magnetic voice snapped her back.
" it's only a matter of seconds before the glass shatters in your palm...miss Ara "
She smiled, she hadn't noticed when he came in or when he sat before her.
The man before her was the untouchable Mr. Raviel—a lawyer powerful enough to make judges, billionaires, and criminals fear him.