"[BING BONG!]".
The front door, doorbell chimed. Our apartment was that small, that even when I was working, I can hear them just fine. And then, I could hear Emily's footsteps padding to the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
"Millie! Luxi! Hey! Come in!!". Emily's voice was bright with surprise and welcome.
"Bro! we're coming in! Millie got something to talk about with you!". Emily said behind the door and then. a moment later, my bedroom door was thrown open without so much as a knock.
"Hi, Sael,". Millie Kyleish stood there, her face flushed with excitement, her phone clutched in her hand like a sacred talisman.
"Hey, Sael,". Luxi, her more reserved streaming partner, hovered behind her in the hallway, offering me a small, shy wave.
"Oh, hi you two…. So, what is this all about?". I asked since both of them just say hi and not say anything at all. Millie's eyes scanned the room and immediately landed on me, lounging on my bed with my tablet. She marched right in, her presence immediately making the small room feel even smaller.
"WAIT!!! Where is it…. AH!! here it is!". she announced, as if she'd discovered a new species. She thrust her phone toward my face. "Look! Look at this! You! This is you right?!".
I took the phone from her. It was open to Hans Kimmel's comment on Mariah Kari's post. The numbers underneath was astronomical, obviously, beside I watched the number grew myself a few hours ago.
"Oh, that," I said, handing the phone back to her with a deliberately casual shrug. I tried to keep my face neutral, but a smirk threatened to break through. "Yeah, that's me…so, what's up?"
Millie stared at me, her mouth agape. "'Something was up'? Sael, Hans Kimmel just called your song the best of the century! Mariah Kari is fan-girling you! How are you so calm?!".
I just shrugged again, enjoying her frantic energy. "It's a nice song…. And, I'm glad people like it."
I was laying it on thick, playing the role of the oblivious, humble artist to perfection. It was too fun not to. As Millie continued to gush, pacing my small room and reading out more comments from other celebrities, my mind was working on a different track.
Wayne East. Heminem. Bruno Moon = Kanye West. Eminem. Bruno Mars.
The parallels were undeniable. The faces, the vibes, the personas—they were carbon copies. But their bodies of work, according to the quick searches Sunday was running in the background of my vision, were completely different. They were famous, but they hadn't created the iconic anthems I knew them for. It was a bizarre situation for me; it was like meeting a famous actor on the street who hadn't starred in any of the movies you loved them for. The potential was there, the raw talent was evident, but somehow at some point they were all different somehow.
Millie finally collapsed onto the edge of my bed; her energy spent from gushing about every famous like and share. She kicked off her shoes, making herself at home, and hugged my pillow to her chest. The casual intimacy spoke volumes about how often she'd been here, how woven she was into the fabric of Emily's life, and by extension, ours.
"You know bro, I still can't believe it's you,". she said, her voice softer now, losing its frantic edge.
"Emily just said you were, like, doing some coding stuff for Meteor Studio…. She never said you were a secret music genius."
Emily, bless her, was being protective. She'd given her friends just enough truth to be plausible—Sael works for the studio—without revealing the earth-shattering reality that her brother was the studio. As always, I knew I can trust Emily.
I looked at Millie, really looked at her. The shock of black and green hair. The oversized, vintage-looking shirt, the sharp, intelligent eyes that held a depth of experience far beyond her years. She was the spitting image of Billie Eilish, not a cosplay, not an imitation, it was her. she was the Billie Eilish in this world. and she is actually someone close to me.
I have the memory of Old Sael, so I know that, Millie was an orphan. Which explained everything. The fierce independence, the desperate drive to make it in music, the way she clung to Emily's family like a lifeline. This apartment wasn't just her friend's house; it was the closest thing to a home she had. The old Sael, in his self-absorbed misery, knew her quite well, as he often just ignored her entirely. But the 2 of them never really have any bad blood, since Old Sael never really have the chance to spit his venom at her, since he often just ghosted her.
Emboldened by the quiet moment, Millie's demeanor shifted again. The starstruck fan was replaced by the ambitious, flirtatious woman I was coming to know. She scooted closer along the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.
"It's just… so amazing," she purred, her voice dropping an octave. She placed a hand on my forearm, her touch warm and deliberate.
"The composition… the feeling in it… you're not just a programmer, are you?" She leaned in, and I felt the soft, undeniable pressure of her chest against my bicep.
It was a calculated move, and damn, it was effective. A lazy, pleased smile spread across my face. I liked it, I liked the attention, the admiration, the subtle scent of her perfume. Not gonna lie, she isn't just look like Billie Eilish, she also got the improved looks and body to boot.
"Oh? What else am I, then?" I prompted, my voice a low rumble, playing along.
"You're an artist," she breathed, her eyes locked on mine, scooting even closer until her thigh was pressed against mine. "A real one. It's… wow."
That was the last straw for Emily, who had been watching from the doorway with a look of mounting annoyance. She'd been tolerating the fangirling, but this blatant seduction was too much.
"Pak!" The sharp sound of a hand smacking the back of a head cut through the thick air. Millie yelped, her seductive act instantly shattered as she recoiled, clutching her skull.
"*Ay, Fuck!! What the hell, Emily! That hurt!". she whined, curling instinctively toward me for protection, which only pissed Emily off more.
"Stay the fuck away from my brother, you thirsty bitch!". Emily snapped, planting her hands on her hips.
"I know your game! You see he's got clout now and you're trying to ride his coattails right into his bed!". Millie spouting fire right away.
"I am not!" Millie shot back, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
"I'm appreciating his art! Something you wouldn't understand, you tone-deaf streamer!". Milie did not backdown, but argue with Emily back.
I couldn't help it, I laughed. The whole situation was too absurdly dramatic. The two closest girls in my life were literally fighting over me in my bedroom; it was a level of chaotic energy I never knew I needed.
The fight fizzled out as quickly as it started, leaving a tense but familiar silence. Millie rubbed the back of her head, pouting. Emily glared, but the fire was gone, replaced by a grudging affection for her hopeless friend.
"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "Truce…. Millie, what do you want? Really?".
She looked up at me, her big eyes wide and suddenly vulnerable. All pretense was gone. "I… I want you to help me,". she said, her voice small.
"My music… it's not going anywhere… I can't get any traction at all…. Could you… would you help me compose something? Maybe… maybe even do a collab? On my stream?". It was a genuine plea from a talented girl who was hitting a wall.
Before I could answer, Emily moved. She walked over to where I was sitting, turned her back to me, and simply sat down between my legs, leaning her back against my chest. She looked up at me, her expression a mix of guilt and hope, and kissed my chin.
"Bro," she said, her voice soft. "Can you help her? Please? She needs it." She was using every bit of our close, intimate sibling bond to lobby for her friend.
It was an overwhelming amount of input. Millie's ambitious plea. Emily's affectionate pressure. Millie's stunning, Billie Eilish-like face watching the exchange with keen interest, enjoying the show.
I took a breath. 'Sunday.'
'[Yes, Sir?]' her voice responded instantly in my mind.
'Millie Kyleish…. Give a Full analysis of her, Vocal talent, Market potential, Projected success probability if given professional composition, production, and marketing… is she this world version of Billie Eilish... or it was just my imagination….'
The analysis took less than a second. '[Vocal analysis complete... Tessitura and tonal quality are exceptional, with a unique and marketable breathy, melodic rap-sing delivery… Analysis of her current released work indicates strong artistic instinct hampered by amateurish production and composition. Market viability analysis: with correct guidance and material, probability of achieving A-list superstar status within eighteen months is ninety-eight percent. Recommendation: She represents a significant strategic opportunity. She should be signed as Meteor Studio's second official artist…. Upon calculation of probability… Millie Kyleish is Billie Eilish of this world with 95% match.]'
The numbers were even better than I'd hoped. I looked down at Emily, then over at Millie, a slow, professional smile spreading across my face.
"Okay," I said, my voice calm and sure.
"We can do a collab." Millie's face lit up.
"But," I continued, "we're going to do it properly… Not just a simple stream... We're going to make a real song, and we're going to release it under the Meteor Studio label.".
I extended a hand to her, not as Emily's brother, but as the head of a studio.
"How would you like to not just collaborate, Millie? How would you like to be signed?".