Friday crept in like a thief in sneakers.
By noon, Victor's stomach was already in knots. He'd barely eaten half a bagel. His fingers drummed nervously on his textbook, pretending to study, but his eyes refused to focus on the page.
"Reminder: Open Mic Performance — 7:00 p.m.," the System said cheerfully.
Victor groaned. "You think I don't know?"
"Awareness does not equal preparedness."
"Encouragement would be nice for once."
"Encouragement: You are 14% more likely to succeed when slightly nervous. Embrace it."
He chuckled dryly. "That was almost human."
---
By 3:00 p.m., he gave up pretending to study and went for a walk across campus. The sky was overcast, the wind biting. He buried his hands in his pockets and let the chill clear his mind.
A message popped up on his phone.
> Benny: You ready for tonight?
He stared at the screen for a moment before typing.
> Victor: Ready to throw up? Absolutely.
Her reply came instantly.
> Benny: Lol. Don't worry, you'll kill it. You're Vee Blaze, right?
He smiled.
> Victor: You remembered.
> Benny: Of course. I'll be cheering you on. Meet me outside the student center at 6:45?
> Victor: Bet.
---
Back in his dorm, Victor stood in front of the mirror, practicing.
"Check… check… one-two…"
He cleared his throat and tried again, rapping a few lines under his breath.
"From Lagos to Yale, now I'm paving my trail,
Through snow, sweat, and struggle — no chance I'ma fail…"
He froze, then restarted.
"Too stiff," he muttered.
The System chimed in.
"Tip: Visualize performance success. Confidence follows familiarity."
Victor nodded. "Okay. Picture it…"
He closed his eyes.
The stage lights. The mic in hand. The small crowd leaning in. Benny in the front row.
He took a deep breath.
"Let's go."
---
At 6:45 p.m. sharp, Victor waited outside the student center. The wind cut through his hoodie like razors. He shifted from foot to foot, trying to stay warm.
Benny appeared moments later, her cheeks pink from the cold, wrapped in a thick brown coat. "You look like you're about to face a firing squad."
Victor laughed nervously. "Feels about right."
She handed him a mini Snickers bar. "For energy."
He raised an eyebrow. "You always carry chocolate for nervous rappers?"
"Only the promising ones."
They entered together. The room buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clink of coffee cups. A small stage had been set up at the front. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a cozy glow. A mic stood waiting.
Victor's throat went dry.
"List is by the piano," Benny said, nudging him.
He walked over, wrote his name down, and scanned the list. He was fourth.
"Fourth?" he muttered. "Why not dead last?"
"Early exposure decreases anxiety buildup," the System offered.
"I wasn't talking to you," Victor whispered.
"What?"
Victor blinked. Benny had spoken.
"Oh. I was… uh… just hyping myself up."
She smiled. "Good. That's the energy."
---
The first performer was a girl with a guitar. She sang an acoustic love song, soft and haunting. The crowd snapped their fingers in appreciation.
Next came a slam poet, intense and loud. Then a comedy act that had everyone laughing.
Victor's chest tightened. His palms were sweaty. The emcee called his name.
"Up next — Victor Rex!"
Victor froze.
"Go," Benny whispered.
He swallowed hard, stood, and walked to the stage.
As he approached the mic, time slowed.
He could hear every breath.
Every foot shuffle.
He looked out at the crowd. Thirty people, maybe more. Some with arms crossed. Some leaning in. Benny smiled and gave him a subtle thumbs-up.
He exhaled and spoke into the mic.
"My name's Victor. I go by the stage name, Victor Rex. This one's called Immigrant Fire."
He tapped play on his phone. The beat dropped — soft piano, layered with a gritty kick.
Then he began.
"Na from PHCN blackout to Ivy League spotlight,
I dey hustle through the cold, but my fire dey ignite.
Left mama with prayers, papa with tears,
Now I'm dodging self-doubt and financial fears…"
The room hushed.
Victor's voice grew stronger.
"Dorm room dreams and dollar signs in my vision,
System in my head screaming: boy, stay driven.
I'm not just here to pass — I came to pass through,
And leave doors open for the next Naija youth…"
A few people clapped mid-verse.
By the final bar, he was moving on instinct.
"This mic, this voice, this pain, this glory,
I'm becoming Victor — rewriting my story."
He stepped back.
The room erupted in applause.
Not wild. But real.
Benny stood, clapping hard.
Victor smiled, heart racing.
"Performance: 91% effectiveness. Audience engagement: 83%. Internal satisfaction: immeasurable."
Victor didn't respond to the System this time.
He just let the sound of claps wash over him.
---
Afterward, students came up to shake his hand. A girl asked if he had his music online. A guy from the slam poetry group invited him to collaborate.
Benny grinned as she handed him a hot chocolate. "I told you you'd kill it."
He took a sip, grinning. "I blacked out halfway through."
"Well, your blackout was fire."
They sat near the wall, legs touching slightly.
"You know," she said, "you've got a message. That line about leaving doors open for the next Naija youth? That hit."
Victor's chest warmed. Not from the cocoa.
"Thanks. Means a lot."
She leaned back. "Most people here just want to sound cool. You actually have something to say."
Victor looked at her, really looked. "You do too. I can tell."
She shrugged. "Maybe. You'll hear tonight."
---
As Benny took the stage later, Victor watched in awe. Her voice was soft at first, then soared. She sang a gospel-soul fusion that gave him chills. It was about doubt. About pressure. About healing.
She wasn't performing.
She was revealing.
When she returned, Victor just stared at her.
"What?" she said, laughing.
"You're… something else."
She nudged him. "Back at you, Victor Rex."
---
That night, lying in bed, Victor stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
"Today was… big," he whispered.
"Correct," the System responded. "You crossed a psychological threshold."
"I felt it."
"Progress: Exponential when fear is faced."
Victor smiled.
He opened his notebook and scribbled:
"First fire lit. No turning back."
---