Bellmare Academy of Performing Arts
Night had fallen over the coastal city, tinting the stone façades and sloped rooftops in deep blue. The academy's central courtyard was almost empty, save for the distant murmur of a small group of students still practicing dance steps in one of the brightly lit gyms.
Adrián Vega lay on the grass, hands clasped behind his head, gazing at the stars. Above him, the sky looked identical to Earth's, with familiar constellations and a clear, clean glow found only far from the big cities. And yet he knew this was not his world. This place was the Blue Sphere, a parallel space-time.
*"Adrián Vega, second year, Composition Department of the Bellmare Academy of Performing Arts."*
That had been his new identity since the crossing.
He had inherited everything from the original Adrián—his memories, his history, his surroundings… and his weakened body. What he did not recall was anything of his own former life. Not a name, not a face, not the cause of his death. Only one certainty remained: before, he had been a painter.
When he immersed himself in his predecessor's memories, he understood that this world's history had diverged centuries ago. In an alternate Europe, Emperor Lucien Marceau had succeeded a line of visionary rulers, unifying kingdoms and forging lasting peace under the banner of the Kingdom of Albion. With war relegated to the pages of history books, society had poured its energy into art. Music, literature, film, painting—every discipline flourished as never before.
An ideal country, Adrián thought. At least for artists.
But no place, however perfect it may seem, is free of misfortune.
The original Adrián suffered from a terminal illness. The doctors had been blunt:
*"He will not live past the age of twenty-five."*
That verdict had led him to a drastic decision: to end his life at just nineteen.
His story was marked by fragility and the sacrifices of others. He had grown up in a single-parent household: his father died young, and his mother worked herself to exhaustion to raise him and his two sisters. The eldest gave up pursuing a master's degree to start working as soon as possible. The youngest, always sensible, made do with hand-me-down clothes and few luxuries.
The final blow came in his first year at university. Adrián had the strongest voice in his class in operatic singing, but a sudden attack destroyed his vocal cords. Unable to endure the training, he had to abandon singing and transfer to composition, where he did not shine the same way. Months later, he chose suicide.
The new Adrián understood his choice. He could not judge him. Some burdens are simply too heavy for the one carrying them.
But he himself had no intention of surrendering. Perhaps he could not escape the illness, but he still had a few years left. Enough time to do something: write, compose, earn money… and improve his family's life. The only problem—he could not remember a single song or anything related to his past life.
That was when a metallic voice resonated in his mind:
[Blood analysis… Genetic test… 99.36% match… Connection established.]
"A system?" he whispered.
[Link complete. Artistic System activated.]
In front of him, data appeared projected in the air:
[Age: 19]
[Life Expectancy: 22]
[Painting: 0]
[Literature: 0]
[Music: 0]
[Total: 0]
A note added: the higher his artistic prestige, the greater the rewards… including medical treatment. If he reached certain levels of reputation, the system would heal him.
"Good…" he said with a half-smile. "Let's play."
He requested the "rookie pack." A virtual interface, like a video game inventory, appeared before him. In the first slot, a single file glowed:
Song: La Vie en Rose.
The title alone was enough for the melody and lyrics to etch themselves into his mind once again. An immortal classic by Édith Piaf-delicate and melancholy, capable of touching any heart. Even if he could no longer sing it, he could find someone who could.
"So here you are with the cat."
The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a face he'd known all his life: Jean Morel -tall, lean, with tousled dark hair and a half-smile. Jean offered him a hand to help him up.
"Jean…" Adrián murmured.
Behind him appeared Sophie Lambert, her long hair adorned with a daisy and a coat in her hands.
"It's chilly tonight. Put this on," she said, draping it over his shoulders.
They both studied him closely.
"Is something wrong?" Jean asked.
"You don't seem like yourself," Sophie added, tilting her head.
Adrián smiled faintly.
"Let's just say I'm not exactly the same anymore."
They had grown up together—primary school, secondary, and now university. They knew him far too well. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell them the truth either.
Jean, direct as ever, switched topics:
"Still dead set on writing novels? Do you know how many try and fail? Even with luck, it's hard to stand out."
He remembered then that the original Adrián had entered a local literary competition, submitting a hundred-thousand-word novel to an online platform alongside hundreds of hopefuls. The prize was tempting—publication, adaptation, and royalties. But he had been eliminated in the first round.
The failure hadn't hurt; his goal had always been to earn money for his family. Singing had not only been a dream but a quick path to that goal. *I don't care if I tarnish my dreams, if it means clothing my sisters or easing my mother's burden*, he had thought.
Sophie, ever the optimist, chimed in:
"Next month is the 'New Star Prize' from Garnier Publishing. You could give it a try."
Jean scoffed.
"Seriously? If he couldn't pass a local contest, how's he going to get into that?"
"What matters is taking part," Sophie shot back. "Since you switched from singing to composition, your spirit hasn't been the same."
Adrián said nothing. In his head, music was the priority. *La Vie en Rose* had to see the light. He glanced at Sophie—before switching majors, they had both studied singing, and her voice was still good. But it wasn't right for this song; her tone shone in modern pop, whereas Piaf required something else entirely.
"I know someone who's written a song," he said. "Do you know how I could get it published?"
"You're joking, right?" Jean raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you already sign with a record label?"
He remembered: the previous Adrián had signed an eight-year contract with a company for barely fifty thousand euros, which he had given in full to his mother. Shortly after losing his voice, the company left him in contractual limbo -they didn't demand the money back, but they didn't promote him either.
Sophie, more pragmatic, spoke up:
"In a few days, the 'Musical Revelation Season' begins. It's the best time to debut. If you submit the song now, they might take it."
The "Season" was a tradition in the Blue Sphere. Every November, major companies paused their releases to make space for new talent. It was the red carpet of the arts. Even established stars stepped aside to let newcomers shine.
Even if he couldn't sing, Adrián could debut as a composer—and in this world, composers earned a considerable share of the profits.
*Perfect*, he thought.
He had the song. Now he just needed the stage.
Adrián ran through everything he knew about the music business in the Blue Sphere. It didn't differ much from his old world in its essentials. The company took half the revenue from downloads and streams; the remaining 50% was split between performers and composers. If there were multiple singers, the performance share was divided. The same went for composition: the one who wrote the music earned more than the lyricist. All depended on the contract's terms.
For him, that wasn't a problem. *La Vie en Rose* was complete—lyrics, music, and arrangements. All he needed was the right channel to bring it to the public.
"If you're not going to sing it yourself, who do you have in mind?" Sophie asked, tilting her head.
Adrián hesitated before answering:
"Someone who can convey the emotion of the song. Not just sing it well, but… live it."
Jean clapped him on the shoulder.
"Then hurry up—spots in the Revelation Season go fast."
The night air carried the salty scent of Bellmare's harbor. In the distance, lampposts traced a path of light along the seafront. Adrián allowed himself a few seconds to breathe deeply. This world, with its peace and worship of art, had something hypnotic about it… but it also reminded him there was no place for mediocrity.
He thought of the original Adrián's last days: the loneliness, the exhaustion, the letter he left for his family, asking for forgiveness. He promised himself he would not follow that path. Maybe he couldn't save his life, but he could change the ending.
Sophie, unaware of his thoughts, was talking about other contests:
"Besides the New Star, there are short-film festivals, painting competitions, poetry prizes… though I think you should focus on just one thing at first."
"I will," he replied, without specifying what. The system left no room for doubt -if he wanted to be cured, he needed artistic prestige, and music was the fastest way.
"Are you going home or staying?" Jean asked.
"I'll stay here a bit longer."
"Alright. Just don't fall asleep outside again," Sophie said with a smile.
He watched them walk away along the lit path, talking between themselves. Silence returned to wrap the courtyard. Adrián lay back down, gazing at the stars. The murmur of the sea, mingled with the distant hum of the city, gave him a strange sense of calm.