I Accidentally Became A Superstar - Chapter 396 396: What About Me?

The stage was still.

A single spotlight pooled on Zeno.

From the viewing room, Ian asked, “Has he ever practiced this?”

Shin shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him practice.”

Hero lifted a finger. “Actually, I see him late in the night in the practice room. I think he was practicing.”

Risa couldn’t help but smile. That sounded so much like Zeno. He worked hard but never showed it.

As the intro of the music continued, Gene PD tilted his head. “When I heard this song for the first time, I thought only someone in Janie’s field could manage it.”

“Indeed,” Janie murmured. “So. Let us see.”

His teammates in the back shared glances that spoke the same thought. They wanted to win, of course. But a part of them also wanted to see Zeno mess up—just enough that they wouldn’t win.

However, Oska narrowed his eyes. He had already learned his lesson. Underestimating Zeno was always a mistake. It was a disaster waiting to happen for the other guy.

Zeno faced the empty dinner table and began singing.

“You say I don’t come home enough.

You talk like I was born this way,

But I was just trying to be strong enough.”

A hush spread, not just in the theater but in the viewing room. Even the smug smiles faltered slightly. His voice fit the song very well, and it amplified his skills compared to the previous song.

“I stayed up late,

I paid the bills you wouldn’t touch.

I held the calls.

I built the walls.

But no one ever said,

‘Thank you very much.'”

A cello slipped in, soft but aching. The first brush of strings made Janie shift in her seat. She hated to admit it, but the tone was… exact. Every syllable was measured, and the timing was perfect.

“You say I made it out —

That I escaped the mess.

But you don’t know the cost,

You never saw the stress.”

In the back row of the viewing room, Hero muttered, “Holy shit…” and got immediately elbowed by Risa.

“I was never the favorite,

Never the loud one in the room.

I just learned to calculate,

And pray I wouldn’t crack too soon.”

His voice dropped lower on “crack too soon”, the sound of someone clenching their jaw against years of frustration.

Oska’s lips curved into the faintest smirk.

“I gave you everything

And I got nothing

I was the middle, so I played the part.

The glue that no one noticed,

The peace before the storm would start.”

When he hit “glue that no one noticed,” he barely pushed the sound, letting it float out just enough to make the line feel like a confession he’d never dared say aloud.

“You laugh and say I’m doing fine,

That I live high in the sky.

But I lie to my own son at night,

‘Cause I don’t know how to cry.”

He held the last note, slightly trembling. “That’s a hard sustain,” Janie whispered.

His voice grew stronger with every stanza.

“You say I have a good life,

But I can’t even feel it.

You say I have a full plate,

But I barely get to eat it.”

He leaned into the words, his body angled toward his brother.

“You all want me to be

A good brother,

A good son,

A good man…

But I can’t even be

A good husband

To the woman who held my hand.”

His teammates were rendered speechless. Since when could Zeno sing like this?

“And my boy, he’s seven now,

He asked me why I’m never there.

I said, “Daddy’s working hard.”

But really, I was just too scared.”

Right there, he looked down, voice quiet, like he was ashamed of letting the audience in on that truth.

“Because there’s always you,

And you,

And you.”

He pointed slightly toward the space where each brother was—each “you” sharper than the last.

The dynamics climbed, and the piano hit harder.

“Your needs, your guilt, your noise, your shame.

I had to be the strong one

Because none of you ever came.”

Janie was still watching, jaw tight. She didn’t comment, but her fingers were tapping her armrest in perfect rhythm. She wasn’t admitting it, but she was following the song because she liked it.

“You want to tell me how to feel?

When I cleaned up your broken glass?

When I signed the checks with shaking hands,

So our name would somehow last?”

He had a full chest voice here, rich and resonant.

“I’m the reason dad’s not on the street,

I’m the reason you could leave.

I bought the damn house you drink in —

But you treat me like I’m deceiving.”

The “experts” in the audience were all immersed feeling like they were watching a real musical.

He leaned forward, breathing heavy, the lights warming as though the heat of the argument was starting to physically burn.

“Is it selfish to want peace?

To want silence in my head?

Is it selfish to want my son to know me?

Before I end up dead?”

He cut the note suddenly, leaving a knife-edge silence.

Gene whispered, “Perfect.”

“You say I’m selfish.

Fine. I’ll take it.

But I’ve been dying trying.

To make your dreams come true.

And now he’s dying —

And we’re all pretending.

But I’ve been dying, too,

And you’ve all been defending…”

Misha placed her hands over her chest. She resigned to it now. She was looking so hard for Zeno’s flaw, but in the end, she couldn’t find one. “Fuck,” she cursed.

“I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t want to be the core.

I just wanted a family.

Not a war.

So damn it, listen now.

I’m tired of standing still.

If you want someone to carry blame,

Then take your fill.”

Janie held her breath as Zeno continued to sustain the note. She counted in her head. This was supposed to be a ten-second sustain.

10… 11… 12…

She gasped softly. He sustained it even longer!

With that, the other instruments finally quieted down, and only the piano sound was heard from time to time.

“So if no one else will say it,”

Then let me finally be the one…

What about me?”

He held the final “me” until the keys faded beneath him, letting it disappear into black.

Silence reigned in the auditorium as Zeno’s last line still hung in the air.

Hmm, Zeno thought. He actually sounded better. The range enhancer had done a good job.

However, even though the dreaded song was over, the scene still wasn’t.

There was still some dialogue.

The stage lights dimmed, narrowing into a single pale beam on his face. His breathing slowed, and he stepped forward, slowly.

“Mond,” he started off. It was reminiscent of the time he scolded his teammates and insulted them to the brim.

“You’re the oldest. You never let us forget that. You act like the title means responsibility when it’s convenient. But the moment it got hard… when Mom died…” His voice cracked, but not clumsily. He let the break hang in the air for half a second before recovering. “You decided to leave.”

In the front row, Mr. Kim leaned forward, fingers pressed to his lips.

Zeno turned his head to the second brother. “Chou.” A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. “Why is it my fault I’m not struggling? Why do I always have to step back and be the one to sacrifice just because I’m the one who has money?”

His voice rose. “I’m sorry, I have money. I’m sorry I worked for it while you had Dad’s support. And when his pension started running dry, and he came to me…” He pointed at his own chest with a trembling hand. “…I gave it to him. And he gave it to you.”

His eyes were glassy when he continued. “Theo.” He shifted his weight, looking tired. “I don’t know much about religion… but you’re a hypocrite.”

“You can’t preach about doing good when you don’t do it yourself. You can’t stand in front of a congregation with your hands open and your heart closed.”

Then, his gaze softened. He turned to Finn, the youngest in the scene. “You’re young,” he said gently. “I hope you don’t turn out like us. Save yourself. Let go of your ego before it swallows you whole.”

The way his voice trembled on “save yourself” made it feel like an older brother’s last plea before a war.

His head dropped for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze again.

“When Mom died, I took care of the hospital bills.”

“With Dad’s hospitalization—same thing. When your son got into that car accident, Chou…” He looked directly at him again. “I was here.”

“I was here,” he repeated, softer. “To the point that I can’t even be a good father to my own son.”

Nobody had spoken for a long time now, but it didn’t feel as such.

Then he straightened, squaring his shoulders. His voice was no longer bitter—it was resolute. “I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’m far from it. This family—” he gestured vaguely between them all “—is far from fixing. But if we keep doing this… If we just keep focusing on what we lack, what we can flaunt, or how we can tear the others down.”

His voice deepened on the next words. “What does that make us? Huh?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com