51 — The Price of Dreams

Two in the morning is typically prime stalker hour. The early risers hadn't surfaced yet and the early bird, aka me, hadn't returned to bed yet. At any rate, Valeria and her merry gang had more or less concluded a stakeout of my house without coming up with any fresh leads.

We didn't even get a scent.

"Honestly, this isn't looking promising." I had mentioned, fiddling with the cap I always donned when in Valeria's company.

"......"

Valeria herself had been quiet these days, more so than usual. A curt nod, that's what I got as a response. Maybe she had reached that phase where you start becoming desensitized to the abnormal; or, maybe she just got sick of staring at the house at odd times of the night and looking at a million clips and checking with her colleagues for anything.

It did indeed seem exhausting and I didn't envy her one bit, yet I had the nagging sensation that there was more to it. She'd avoid my glances when I tried looking directly at her, and would avert eye-contact whenever she could. She seemed agitated, though there wasn't any overt reason behind it, not unless a person was thinking too hard about something.

The stalker hadn't come back in days, nor were there any more letters delivered by her.

There was a lull, though no indication that she'd gone anywhere, so this was a temporary reprieve, but little else. The damage, however, was already done and I wasn't sure if any song was going to fix this mess I'd gotten myself into. But I knew the stalker would not disappear so easily.

"Val? You look quite out of it, maybe you should head home and have a rest. Let someone else take over your—"

"No."

She didn't even let me finish my sentence.

The dim lights of the vehicle played a weird trick on her eyes, surely. As intense shadows dangled and clung to her cheeks and forehead, giving her an eerie sort of look, something I hadn't noticed until now. Nothing that took anything away from her beauty, mind you. But I did feel concerned.

"Listen, Val, you seem very out of it and, given you've spent most nights patrolling for her, maybe someone else—"

"I said no."

"Val—"

"I'm fine."

"......"

Yes, the lights were definitely playing a trick on her eyes. Those were some fucking lithium-powered eyes right there.

I breathed out, pressing the electric window button on the side until the glass came sliding down, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.

"So..." I tried to make small talk. "Did you listen to my newest song?" I knew she did, but I wanted to know what she had made of it.

She exhaled, but didn't speak. Her head lowered further, until not even her eyes could be seen.

I blinked, my heart starting to beat faster for no reason. Maybe my body was trying to tell me something.

"Valeria?"

"......"

She turned the keys, igniting the car engine and sending the lights to full beam before driving off the curb onto the road. "Damien, I think it's better if you go back home for the night and stay there."

There was a note of finality in her voice.

"Oh, why? I just got here..."

She didn't speak for a full ten seconds, before sighing. "It's dangerous."

"......"

Not could be or might be, but is. An affirmation that there was danger around. I looked out of the window, scrutinizing anything that looked suspicious, but so far the only suspicious thing was Valeria herself.

I decided to trust her instincts and didn't leave her any arguments.

Soon enough, she made a full loop around the block and parked right outside my house again.

It was an uneventful ride, but not one without an unusual tension between us.

And honestly, that was weird enough for me. I always felt comfortable around her, perhaps, oddly, one of the easiest relationships that I had in this world.

It just seemed too abrupt, and, dare I say it, out-of-character of her.

"Stay safe."

She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind... go."

She nodded back towards the house.

I stayed a second longer, before unfastening the seat belt and getting out. "You too... don't forget to drive safely... I hope you get a good night's rest, Val." I hesitated, hand still on the door. "Good night."

She didn't reply, only waited for me to close the car, and trot towards the porch. Not once did she move from her idle spot. Even as I sped up the stairs to my room, peeking through the curtains of my window, she was there, maybe a minute longer, before turning off the headlights and slowly, quietly, moving back onto the main road and driving away, likely somewhere nearby, within reach.

I sighed, feeling my shoulders quite heavy. I plopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I picked up my phone, as I've done nonstop for the past few days, watching the listening count of my newest release break through a million and reach two and then three. The comments were less thirsty than usual, but that's because the platform's moderation system was a lot stricter this time around.

However, there was a particular comment that caught my eye.

—This song saved my life.

"......"

"For real?" I couldn't help but mutter to the air, lying in my bed. That felt a tad extreme, and more than a little ominous. "Could my songs really save lives now?"

Not exactly mine, per se. But it suddenly felt like I had too much power in my hands. If I hadn't released this song when I did, would someone have died by their own hands?

That was the general mood, and not the only comment saying similar things. Many more came forth, telling similar experiences and emotions—the song reaching them during moments of their darkest times. The outpouring was significant.

—Thank you for existing.

—Thank you for this song. I love you too. I'd die for you too.

I frowned at that last comment.

The likes and replies continued. I switched off my screen and threw the phone back onto the bed. "Crazy..."

Truly, truly crazy.

…

The puffed up turkeys that were the music critics had enough to eat for a lifetime thanks to my latest release, as the content analysis and critical feedback they were giving were straight fire. They found everything wrong with it, or, alternately, everything good with it, because there are two kinds of schools of thought on the matter.

One camp was always finding something to complain, and the other camp was finding something to adore, and there never was an in-between.

Some religious purists wrote in complex prose and technical terminology, how the song was a devilish ode, blaspheming in every way. They were campaigning for the banning and burning of this so-called satanic witchcraft.

It reminded me of the very same comments under my first, original song. People thinking this was a marketing stunt, that I was a hostage of sorts forced to sing this against my will.

Some others, instead, used their collective agreement that it was an unprecedented musical masterpiece, or a once in a century type of occurrence. What with a male finally replying to the unrequited, dedicated pieces of love songs from female artists; they'd always been the ones to express and unleash their desires, but this song, from a male, gave it all a reverse spin that people were unprepared for.

Who knew a single male's voice could reduce the women folk into literal bumbling, sobbing puddles.

With the spike of activity that was both literally and metaphorically 'pitching' everyone's attention, came the public reactions. Some said that it would change everything. They had long been waiting, waiting for something big to happen, and this was it. They've been fed scraps long enough. They didn't need another pseudo-man to stand in front of a piano.

One of the most popular female singers shared her own thoughts on social media. Another one was caught on live listening to that song.

The song's visibility skyrocketed unlike anything before.

xXx

Inside a high-end studio with multiple video editing staff, camera crews and stage hands, five beautiful women sat around a table with microphones fixed in front of each. This was Dazzling by Five, a podcast where five members sat and talked about a variety of subjects. Claire, Celine, Lily, Margaret and Emelia.

They mostly talked about current hot topics in the entertainment and political community, oftentimes inviting a famous guest over for an interview.

And the topic for discussion today was none other than Silver's latest release.

"He's like... crazy-amazing." The red-headed hostess, Lilly, spoke first as she had someone from the staff pull up the song, and put it as background music. "It's impossible not to think about it and talk about it. It has everyone wrapped around its fingers. It's kinda sad that there's no music video, tho~"

"Am I the only one that thinks his song is just a marketing stunt?" Celine spoke next, doubtfully, arms crossed. "A male voice on a romantic, emotional song. Like come on, now." She scoffed. "And have any of you seen that man?"

The other members glanced around, sipping on their beverages and throwing out random thoughts.

"In this day and age, no one would dare exploit men... there's so many repercussions..."

A round of nods.

"To put him up on stage for the sole purpose of a female's wet-dream is criminal." Claire agreed, leaning forward on her seat.

"Has Emmett said anything about it?"

"That this song is the cataclysm to a whole lot of ruined panties?" Emelia added in, jokingly.

The others chuckled at the remark. "He didn't really say that." Margaret gave her friend a pointed stare.

"No, he didn't. He never says anything."

"What do you think, Miss Dinas?" Lily finally turned to the guest sitting silently at the end, quietly sipping her tea while everyone's voices competed for attention. Celesia Dinas, one of the rising stars in the music industry. With blue hair and crimson eyes, she had an inhuman beauty that was the hallmark of her popularity.

Celesia set the cup down. "I think Silver is very much real, and he's also a man."

A bout of murmuring.

"Well, we've not been able to confirm anything for sure, but that is true, isn't it?"

"I did hear that he's a registered male, so technically..."

"The government wouldn't lie about this."

"Yes, but it's so... hard to believe, isn't it? I mean, does this song really feel like it's a male's?"

"Mhmm." Celesia crossed one leg on the other. "Not that being male precludes one from singing romantics. Perhaps that is an important distinction to make here."

Lily paused her thought, looking surprised. She gestured around as the other women laughed. "But does he need to be... so seductive when it comes to his voice? I've never heard a man make that voice before..."

The subtle tremor. A moan in itself, but more. The prolonged notes, a sexual purr, and his natural, slow-breathing pattern that was amplified through the mic.

Celesia shrugged her shoulders. "Why not? A sultry voice makes a great singer. Even more so when coming from the opposite gender."

"How do you know he's the real deal, anyway?" Celine quipped. "Have you actually met him or…?"

"Me? I haven't, but I know the producer. In fact, I've worked with her before." Celesia smiled secretly, crossing her arms and sinking a little further in the soft sofa. "She's not the type to work with a pretender, as she's a very accomplished producer herself. So, if she's involved in this song, it's safe to say it's a genuine product."

"You're putting her on a pedestal, Celesia. Who is she anyway? No offense, but producers are... well, producers. They'll do anything for the right amount of money." Claire said, backed up by Celine's nod of agreement.

"Perhaps. I'm not denying that." The singer nodded. "But this is different. She... has a strong moral compass. And I trust her." She added.

"I see. So you believe she wouldn't just help any fake impersonate a male just for the sake of a few bucks?"

"Not a chance."

The others looked at each other.

Celesia tapped her chin in thought. "In fact, not only do I know that he's a genuine male singing this, I may even know exactly whose voice is coming through those speakers right now."

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