The stadium was packed with one hundred thousand spectators, their cheers echoing like thunder. Most of them were young, their eyes shining with excitement as they fixed their gaze on the girl standing proudly on stage.
How could there be such a person? Someone who seemed to shine endlessly, someone who pulled others upward just by existing.
Next to Victor, a young couple whispered to each other. The boy's voice trembled with excitement.
"Why do I feel such a strong resonance from Sophia? It's like looking at her makes me believe… that even from the lowest depths, anyone can rise. No matter how small, no matter how far down, they can still rise!"
A slightly overweight young man standing near them—dressed in a cheap, entry-level suit, the kind real estate salesmen wore—suddenly burst into tears. His face was blotchy, his breath uneven, as though his own story had just been stirred awake. He nodded rapidly, unable to hold back his emotions.
"Yeah… that's why people love her. Because when she faces class, wealth, or the big corporations—she doesn't flinch. She challenges them head-on and wins with nothing but her own strength!"
The boy's girlfriend tugged his sleeve nervously and whispered, "But… how is Sophia so powerful? Does it really have nothing to do with anyone else?"
Her voice was soft, hesitant, because even she wasn't sure of the answer.
Sophia's background was painfully ordinary. Her father, Victor, was an orphan who had fought his way through life. Her mother had divorced early, leaving her to be raised in ordinary schools among ordinary children. On the surface, she was no different from anyone else. The only difference was the truth that, as she grew, those who came from privilege—the wealthy second-generation born in the same era—experienced despair whenever they compared themselves to her.
In literature, in music production, in piano mastery, in film and television writing, in stage performance, in academic discussions—she defeated every rival. One by one, she crushed them.
That's why people believed so firmly: her brilliance had nothing to do with others. She had been born humble, yet she radiated like no one else.
After the girl finished speaking, silence followed. The weight of those words lingered heavily in the air.
Victor sat beside them, his eyes dim yet carrying a gentle twilight glow. He had walked through deserts of loneliness, oceans of hardship, yet when he looked at his daughter's figure shining on stage, a smile spread across his thin face.
Some parents live to praise their children. For Victor, it was enough.
But his body betrayed him.
He coughed violently, pain stabbing through him as if his organs were being torn apart. Brain cancer gnawed at his life, bringing waves of nausea and torment. His once-strong frame had withered, leaving him skeletal, like a fragile stick figure wrapped in paper-thin skin.
Blood spilled into the handkerchief he pressed desperately against his lips. His hands, once steady and powerful, slumped weakly against the armrest of the seat. Those around him flinched and shifted uncomfortably, instinctively inching away from the presence of death itself.
Now he looked nothing like the man he had once been—only the faint outline of his younger, heroic self remained, blurred by the suffocating aura of decay.
Still, he leaned back quietly, tilting his head up toward the dazzling sky.
His pupils reflected fragments of starlight, but within them danced memories—memories of loneliness, survival, and love.
He had been an orphan, raised in silence, carrying the weight of days that dragged endlessly. When he reached adulthood, all he wanted was to show the world his talent. But what he received instead was hardship, debt, and abandonment. Then came his daughter—the single ray of light in his empty existence.
Yet at night, in their slum home, fear would claw into his dreams. He would wake up trembling, asking himself again and again:
What will happen to my little girl when I die?
Who will protect her?
Who will bully her?
If she's adopted, will they treat her well?
The nightmare of those questions had burned inside him like wildfire.
Now, as he sat in the stadium surrounded by countless strangers, the same fear clawed back into his chest. His inner demons whispered:
"Was it worth it? No one ever understood you. You were just a failed man, a sick man. What did you give her except hardship?"
He stayed silent. He didn't need to answer. His daughter's voice was echoing across the stadium, and that was enough.
---
Meanwhile, on the stage, the show surged forward.
The host, Nana, practically vibrated with excitement as she announced the next guest.
"We have a very special surprise for everyone! Sophia's mother has traveled thousands of miles to be here today. She will step onto this stage as our 51st guest! The famous Grace family has reorganized itself, and we are all curious—how much did Grace contribute to Sophia's growth? If she was the one to raise Sophia, just how incredible would the results have been?"
The crowd erupted in cheers, some rising to their feet. On the massive screen behind the stage, clips and notes about Grace's past flickered to life.
Grace fell in love with Victor at the age of twenty.
At twenty-five, Victor entered one of the top companies in Iron City. Grace's family arranged their marriage that same year.
By the time Victor turned thirty, his family had lost everything. Their property was seized, debts piled high, and they were driven into the slums. That was the same year Sophia was born. That was also the year Grace left.
At thirty-one, Grace moved overseas through her family's connections. She remarried a wealthy foreign businessman who went on to establish numerous corporations abroad. With him, she had several more children.
Now, at forty-nine, Grace's current influence was unknown. Reports suggested she was deeply involved in property games and corporate empires, alongside her children.
Her image filled the screen: the picture of a woman born into wealth, now surrounded by luxury, power, and mystery.
The contrast between her life and Victor's was overwhelming.
Because Grace had remained so mysterious over the years—sometimes appearing mediocre, sometimes rumored to be playing in the highest circles—many speculated that Sophia's success must somehow be tied to her mother's family.
After all, Grace was still Sophia's mother.
Conversations spread like wildfire. Some audience members leaned toward each other, voices rising in curiosity:
"What if Grace had raised Sophia instead of Victor?"
"What if Victor had never gotten sick? He was an elite of his time too."
"If Grace had guided Sophia from age six onward, she would've been unstoppable."
All eyes turned back to the stage.
The lights dimmed. The screen flickered again.
The image changed.
The audience held its breath.
Something was about to happen.
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