The air was electric, pulsating with anticipation, as K bellowed into the microphone, his voice a primal scream that shattered the night air. "Let me hear you scream!!" The words echoed through the sprawling stadium, sending shockwaves through the sea of fans. The crowd erupted, their collective voice a deafening roar that sounded like a gargantuan beast awakening from slumbr. "K, K, K..." the chant began, spreading like wildfire as the audience swayed in unison, their arms raised in fervor.
The beat dropped, and K launched into "Rise Above", his first hit single that had catapulted him to stardom. The crowd went wild, their faces alight with adoration, as the song's infectious rhythm coursed through their veins. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and the sweet tang of cotton candy wafting from the vendors. The stadium's LED lights danced in sync with the music, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the throngs.
As K sang, the hours ticked by, the concert building to a crescendo. The clock struck 11:45, and the show came to a close, leaving the audience breathless and yearning for more. K vanished behind the curtains, his entourage swarming around him like a protective cocoon. The press corps surged forward, cameras flashing like a supernova, as K's security detail, clad in sleek black suits and earpieces, formed a cordon around him. They pushed back the throng, creating a path for K to make his regal exit.
The entourage swept through the backstage corridor, Ethan's security detail clearing a path through the throng of reporters and staff. But one individual managed to slip through the cordon undetected. Nicor, a man in a sleek black suit, approached Ethan's side, his tablet held discreetly in one hand. The guards didn't bat an eyelid, accustomed to Nicor's unassuming presence.
"Hey Ethan, you should take a look at this," Nicor said, his voice low and even, as he fell into step beside Ethan. The soft rustle of his suit and the faint creak of his leather shoes were the only sounds that accompanied his approach, a testament to his ability to move unseen.
Ethan barely glanced at the tablet, his eyes flicking to the screen with a hint of disinterest. The soft glow of the device illuminated the sharp angles of his face, accentuating his chiseled features. "5 million views and counting, just for today's concert," Nicor said, his voice lanced with a mix of excitement and wariness. "Ratings are through the roof. You were on fire out there, my... Ethan." Nicor's hesitation wasn't lost on Ethan, who shot him a sideways glance, his expression a mask of indifference.
The air was thick with the hum of activity, the distant chatter of reporters, and the muffled thud of footsteps on the concrete. The scent of fresh coffee wafted from a nearby catering station, mingling with the sweet tang of Nicor's cologne.
As they walked, the guards cleared a path, their broad shoulders and stern expressions parting the sea of reporters like a bow wave. Ethan's entourage moved with him, a well-oiled machine that knew its place in the hierarchy.
Ethan stopped abruptly, his eyes locking onto Nicor's, his gaze cold and calculating. The air seemed to vibrate with tension, the only sound the soft rustle of clothes and the distant hum of the stadium's generators. "Since when have we ever been friends?" Ethan's voice was low, measured, and laced with a hint of menace, his words a challenge that left no room for misinterpretation.
Nicor's eyes dropped, his voice lanced with a hint of fear, as he said, "Of course we are friends, Ethan. I have been your handler for 5 years now, and you still don't consider me a friend? I am always beside you 24/7, but you never ever call out my name... I have feelings, you know?" His expression was an enthusiastic mask, a facade that reflected his years of being treated like a mere accessory.
Ethan's face was a study in indifference, his eyes glancing at Nicor with a detached curiosity. The flashes of camera light punctuated the air, illuminating their faces in a stroboscopic dance. "I think you got our lines crossed," he breathed, his voice devoid of emotion. "You and I are in no way friends, got it. Just do your job." He turned to walk away, the press swooping in to follow him, leaving Nicor alone in the dark surroundings, his eyes fixed on the spot where Ethan had stood.
The soft crunch of gravel beneath his shoes gave way to the gentle hum of the Lamborghini's engine as Ethan slid into the driver's seat. The car was a red bullet, its V12 engine purring softly as it devoured the night. The reflections of streetlights and skyscrapers danced across its gleaming surface, a testament to its beauty.
As Ethan navigated the city streets, his movements on the steering wheel were a symphony of experience, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The car glided to a stop at traffic lights, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the distant thub of the city's pulse.
Eventually, the Lamborghini pulled up to the grand entrance of the Aurora Royale Hotel, its headlights casting a warm glow on the shimmering silver-threaded canopy. The hotel's exterior was a masterpiece of opulence, its white marble façade gleaming like polished ivory in the night.
The building's silhouette was a majestic blend of Art Deco and Neo-Classical styles, with soaring columns, sculpted arches, and a faubourg of glittering, precision-cut diamonds that encrust the roofline, refracting the light like a thousand tiny prisms. The hotel's grandeur was awe-inspiring, its beauty a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era.
Ethan's sleek red Lamborghini Sian drove inside the establishment, its engine purring softly as it came to a stop at the entrance. A man in a sleek, navy-blue suit approached the car, his movements economical and precise. The door opened by itself, and Ethan emerged, welcomed by the evening breeze, his hair dancing in the gentle zephyr. The lights of the hotel cast a magnificent glow on his features, accentuating his chiseled profile.
Ethan handed over the keys to the valet, their fingers brushing briefly as the man took the keys. The valet's eyes flicked to Ethan's, a hint of admiration in their depths, before he nodded and slid into the driver's seat. The Lamborghini's engine roared to life, and it glided away, its taillights disappearing into the night.
Ethan pulled out his smartphone, his gaze focused on the screen as he walked inside the establishment. The doormen, resplendent in their tailored uniforms, nodded in unison as he passed, their voices murmuring in harmony, "Welcome back, sir." One of them, an older man with a kindly face, opened the door, his eyes cr crling at the corners as he smiled. "Good evening, Mr. Ethan. It's a pleasure to have you back."
Ethan's eyes barely flicked to the doorman, his attention fixed on the screen as he navigated the lobby, his fingers dancing across the surface with a practiced ease. The sounds of the hotel, the soft hum of conversation and the gentle chime of the elevator, faded into the background as he walked, his focus solely on the device in his hand.
END OF CHAPTER TWO