(A/N):
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As the movie progressed
The humor softened, making room for urgency.
Rancho was in the middle of explaining what true love actually meant—not grand gestures, not gifts, but understanding—when his phone rang.
Raju.
His voice broke through the calm like glass.
"My father… he collapsed. It's serious. I've called an ambulance."
Rancho's expression changed instantly.
He didn't hesitate. His eyes went to Pia.
"You're a medical student," he said. "I need your help."
Pia stiffened.
"No," she replied immediately. "My father—"
"I know," Rancho cut in gently. "But this isn't about him. It's about saving a life."
She looked away, conflicted.
For a moment, it seemed like she would walk out.
Then Rancho added quietly, "If it were my father… I wouldn't care who hated me."
That did it.
Pia inhaled sharply. "Fine," she said. "But move."
The scooter roared to life.
Rancho drove.Pia sat behind him, holding on reluctantly.
As they sped through the streets, Pia frowned. "Why am I even helping you?" she muttered. "My father hates you."
Rancho didn't look back. "Because you're not your father."
She fell silent.
They reached Raju's house.
Empty.
Panic hung thick in the air.
Pia rushed inside, checked Raju's father, fingers steady despite the tension.
"This is critical," she said urgently. "He needs a hospital. Now."
No ambulance yet.
Rancho looked at the scooter.
Then at the man.
Then back at Pia.
She followed his gaze and stared. "You can't be serious."
Rancho already was.
Moments later, Raju's father sat wedged awkwardly between them on the scooter, tied carefully for balance. Rancho gripped the handles. Pia held the patient steady from behind.
The scooter lurched forward.
What followed was chaos.
Near misses. Horn blasts. Pedestrians shouting.
Rancho zigzagged through traffic with reckless precision, Pia yelling directions while trying to keep the man upright.
Despite the absurdity—It worked.
They reached the hospital.
Doctors rushed in. The doors closed.
Silence fell.
Pia leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Rancho stood beside her, helmet still on, eyes fixed on the doors.
For the first time, she looked at him differently.
Not as Viru's enemy.
Not as a nuisance.
But as someone who would risk everything without thinking twice.
The movie lingered on that realization.
Then moved on.
The movie progressed as it reached the climax...
The movie rolled into its final moments.
Rancho and Pia stood close, teasing fate itself—noses almost touching, breath shared, laughter soft between them.
Then—The kiss.
Gentle. Earned. Certain.
The screen faded. Silence followed.
In the grand office, Zerath Kaul'drake exhaled slowly. Not disappointment. Not fatigue.
Respect.
He leaned back, eyes resting on the final frame as the Star Entertainment logo appeared.
"…So that's how it ends," he murmured.
His daughter didn't speak.
"...."
She was still processing—the humor, the courage, the refusal to bow to fear disguised as tradition.
Zerath's gaze sharpened.
"Find out who made this."
His daughter straightened instantly.
"Yes, Father."
Her fingers moved fast, data layers unfolding. Production records.
Registrations. Educational affiliations.
Then she paused.
"…Father."
Zerath turned. "What is it?"
"The creator," she said carefully, eyes widening just a little.
"He's a student."
Silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"A student?" Zerath repeated.
She nodded and expanded the projection.
-Nod
"Enrolled at Helios Vanguard Academy."
Both of them stared.
A student. An independent studio. Back-to-back cultural hits. A film that made his wife smile during pregnancy.
Zerath's tail flicked once, slow and deliberate.
"…Call the principal," he said.
His daughter hesitated. "Now?"
"Yes," Zerath replied evenly. "Now."
She complied.
As the call initiated, Zerath leaned forward, claws interlaced.
"I don't know who taught this boy," he said quietly, "but he understands something this industry forgot."
His daughter looked at him. "What's that?"
Zerath's eye reflected the fading logo.
"How to speak to people without shouting."
The call connected.
Because Zerath Kaul'drake was certain of one thing now:
The child behind Star Entertainment wasn't just making movies.
He was about to change the industry—for good.
[KRISHNA'S HOUSE...]
Krishna had lost count of how many times the movie had looped on the holographic screen.
Third time this week.
Not by his choice. His mother's.
The climax approached again.
Pia rode in on the scooter. Words were exchanged. That familiar pause—
kiss.
Sara didn't even look at the screen this time.
"...."
She looked straight at her son.
Her smile widened.
"Ohooo," she teased, dragging the syllable out.
"Such confidence on screen, hm? Director-sir?"
Krishna's cheeks betrayed him instantly, blooming into a light pink that refused to fade.
"Mom—" he protested weakly.
Too late.
The Entertainment System chose that exact moment to materialize.
With dramatic flair.
[-SMOOCH!] [-SMOOCH!]
It hugged itself, puckered exaggerated lips, and began kissing the air loudly, spinning in place like a stage performer who had discovered romance for the first time.
[Mmmmmwah! True love! Cinema! Passion!]
It declared, clutching its chest and collapsing onto an imaginary fainting couch.
Krishna buried his face in his hands.
"Please uninstall yourself," he muttered.
The system only winked.
[-WINK!]
Then—
[-Vrrrnn.]
His i-bracelet vibrated.
Krishna froze caught off guard by the sudden interruption.
"...."
A notification expanded in front of him, glowing with official blue highlights.
[Incoming Message: Helios Vanguard Academy...]
He opened it.
The words took a second to register.
Then his eyes widened.
[OFFICIAL INVITATION:]
[You are hereby invited to attend a formal meeting at the headquarters of the Orpheon Grand Theater Association.]
[Purpose: Discussion regarding your recent works and future prospects.]
[Additional note from the Principal:
Do not waste this opportunity. You must go.
All travel expenses will be fully covered by the institution.]
The room went quiet.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Even the Entertainment System stopped mid-pose.
[…Well,] it said slowly, straightening an imaginary tie,
[that escalated from 'cute indie director' to 'galactic big shots want tea' rather fast.]
Krishna swallowed he had researched about this association and know how crazy was to be invited by them to their headquaters.
Orpheon Grand Theater Association.
A name whispered with reverence across the industry.
The gatekeepers of theaters. The arbiters of reach. The ones who decided whether a movie stayed local… or became universal and the honour of being aired on the theater.
Here the movies were released primarily on UniNet but only the selected few will get a chance to aired on theater.
So when ever a movie hits a theaters then it was considered a honour and definetly will rack up credits and fame.
Sara read the message over his shoulder.
Her teasing smile softened into pride.
"Looks like they noticed you," she said gently.
Ram, who had been pretending not to listen, nodded once.
-Nod
"Go," he said. "This kind of door doesn't knock twice."
Krishna looked back at the projection.
At the logo.
At the path suddenly opening before him.
A few days later, Krishna stood at the edge of a place that made even his new life feel unreal.
The Astraport of Aetherion Prime...
It wasn't just an airport.
It was a galactic crossroads.
The floor beneath his boots was a seamless sheet of living alloy, faintly translucent, revealing flowing streams of light beneath—energy veins routing power across the entire complex.
Gravity fields adjusted subtly with every step, ensuring comfort for beings of wildly different mass and biology.
Above him, the ceiling didn't exist in the traditional sense.
Instead, a colossal transparent dome stretched endlessly, showing real space beyond—stars drifting slowly, massive carriers gliding in silence, smaller civilian vessels weaving between designated lanes like schools of luminous fish.
Krishna tilted his head up instinctively.
"Still gets you every time,"
Ram remarked beside him, amusement clear in his voice.
Around them, beings of countless races moved in calm efficiency:
Tall crystalline entities whose bodies refracted light into soft rainbows
Furred bipeds conversing through bioluminescent patterns
Floating spherical drones guiding travelers with gentle harmonic tones
No shouting. No rushing.
Everything moved on precision and trust.
Krishna raised his wrist.
His i-bracelet pulsed once, projecting a thin holographic pane.
[DESTINATION: Orpheon Prime]
[AUTHORIZATION: VERIFIED]
[SPONSOR: Helios Vanguard Academy]
As he stepped toward the boarding gate, a curved arch of light passed over him.
No scanners. No guards.
The arch read his biometrics, genetic signature, neural stability, and intent—all in less than a heartbeat.
A calm voice resonated directly into his auditory nerves.
"Clearance confirmed. Safe travels, Director Krishna."
Director.
The word still felt strange.
The boarding platform unfolded smoothly, forming a bridge of hard light that extended toward their ship.
The spacecraft waiting there was nothing like the crude rockets of his past life.
It was sleek, organic in shape, as if grown rather than built.
Its surface shifted colors subtly, reacting to nearby energy fields.
No visible engines. No exhaust ports.
Ram tapped the hull lightly.
"Adaptive hull. Self-repairing. Can shift between warp, slipstream, and fold-space travel depending on traffic density."
Krishna blinked. "Casual."
They stepped inside.
The interior felt more like a luxury lounge than a vehicle.
Seats molded themselves automatically to their bodies.
Ambient light adjusted to Krishna's neural comfort levels.
The air smelled faintly of rain and citrus—customized for mixed-species passengers.
No cockpit. No pilots.
A soft chime echoed.
"All passengers secured. Departure in five… four…"
The floor vibrated gently—not with force, but with absence.
Outside, the stars stretched.
Space folded.
Not violently. Not dramatically.
Just… politely.
Through the wide panoramic window, the stars stretched into long ribbons of light, blurring into soft streaks of silver and blue.
It looked impossibly fast—like reality itself was being pulled thin.
Yet inside the cabin—Nothing. No pressure. No vibration. No sense of motion.
Krishna shifted slightly in his seat, almost disappointed by how normal it felt.
"It's weird," he murmured.
"It looks like we're tearing through the universe… but it feels like we're standing still."
Ram smiled faintly.
"Inertial nullification. The ship moves. You don't."
In front of Krishna, a translucent screen hovered into view.
[DESTINATION: Orpheon Prime]
[ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 00:15:00]
The countdown ticked smoothly, numbers flowing like liquid glass.
Krishna watched the stars blur for a few more seconds—Then everything outside froze.
Mid-streak. Mid-glow. Mid-motion.
It was as if someone had pressed a universal pause button.
The ribbons of light stopped stretching.
The stars hung motionless, suspended in a silent, impossible tableau.
Krishna's breath caught for just a moment.
"Wormhole entry," the ship's calm voice announced.
"External reference frames temporarily locked."
He knew what it meant.
Inside a wormhole, there was no outside in the way the mind understood it.
Distance collapsed. Direction became meaningless. Until they exited—Nothing would change.
No movement. No scenery shift.
Only time, measured internally.
The countdown continued.
00:14:32
Krishna leaned back, eyes fixed on the unmoving universe beyond the window.
'When it moves again…'
That would mean only one thing.
They would be at the edge of Orpheon Prime.
After thirteen long, silent minutes—
The universe moved again.
The frozen stars outside the window shimmered, then flowed, snapping back into motion as if reality itself had exhaled.
The stretched lights condensed into sharp points, reorganizing into unfamiliar constellations.
The ship's voice sounded once more, smooth and composed.
"Wormhole traversal complete. Arrival at Orpheon Prime Astraport in sixty seconds."
Krishna straightened slightly.
Outside, space looked… different.
Denser. Brighter.
Traffic lanes glowed like golden veins, layered in elegant spirals instead of straight paths.
Massive structures floated at regulated distances, each one bearing insignias of theater guilds, cultural unions, and archival houses from across the galaxy.
Then the Astraport of Orpheon Prime came into view.
It wasn't a single structure.
It was a city in orbit.
Colossal ring-shaped docks rotated slowly around a luminous core, each ring dedicated to a different class of vessel.
The architecture leaned heavily toward grandeur rather than efficiency—arched docking bays, monumental statues of legendary performers carved into alloy and crystal, and holographic murals replaying iconic scenes from galactic cinema history.
Krishna's breath hitched.
"This place…" he muttered. "It feels like a museum and a palace had a child."
Ram nodded hearing his sons description.
"Orpheon doesn't just move people. It makes statements."
The ship glided in without a sound, locking seamlessly into a docking cradle made of interlocking light panels rather than metal clamps.
The moment they disembarked, the difference became even clearer.
Where Aetherion Prime's port had been calm and neutral—
Orpheon Prime's was dramatic.
The floor beneath their feet was dark obsidian glass, reflecting moving constellations beneath it.
Overhead, banners of light unfurled and rewove themselves endlessly, each depicting famous productions, directors, and moments that had shaped galactic culture.
Even the air felt curated—subtly warm, carrying faint hints of incense and polished alloy.
Beings passed by in deliberate strides, dressed sharply, many accompanied by entourage drones or assistants projecting schedules and contracts mid-air.
No one rushed.
Everyone arrived.
Krishna turned slowly, taking it all in, golden eyes reflecting the spectacle.
"This is… nothing like home," he said softly.
Ram glanced at him.
"That's intentional. Orpheon wants you to feel small."
They exited the astraport through a descending transit ring and hired a cab waiting in perfect alignment with the curb.
The cab had no driver's seat.
Instead, a smooth metallic torso rose from the front console, its head a simple oval with shifting glyphs where eyes would be.
The robot inclined its head politely as the destination synced directly from Krishna's i-bracelet.
[Route confirmed. Estimated arrival: four minutes.]
The vehicle lifted soundlessly, gliding along invisible lanes that curved through the cityscape.
Towers of light and crystal passed by, some shaped like amphitheaters, others like frozen soundwaves.
Holographic marquees replayed legendary performances, entire centuries of cinema looping in elegant silence.
Then the cab slowed.
They arrived.
Krishna stepped out—and stopped.
Before him stood the Orpheon Grand Theater Association Headquarters.
It wasn't built. It was sculpted.
"...."
The entire structure looked as though it had been grown from a single colossal crystal, branching upward and outward like an impossibly precise geode.
The surface resembled diamond or prismatic quartz, yet it didn't reflect light the way normal crystal should.
Instead, light seemed to sink into it, refracting internally and returning as a soft, dignified glow.
No glare. No flash.
Just presence.
"This isn't architecture," Krishna whispered. "It's… a statement."
Before Ram could reply, the massive crystalline gate responded to their presence.
Without a sound, it unfolded inward, layers sliding apart like petals.
Two figures waited beyond.
Both were lizard-folk. One male. One female.
The man stepped forward first.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, emerald scales polished to a subtle sheen.
His eyes were slit pupils set in a calm, evaluating gaze. Power clung to him effortlessly, not asserted—assumed.
He extended a clawed hand.
"Krishna," he said, voice deep and measured.
"I am Zerath Kaul'drake."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Supreme Curator of Galactic Exhibition & Audience Integrity of the Orpheon Grand Theater Association."
Krishna took his hand and shook it firmly, meeting Zerath's gaze without flinching.
Zerath's eye flickered—approval, faint but real.
The woman beside him stepped forward next.
She bore the same features, the same emerald scales, but her presence was sharper, more precise.
Long blonde hair flowed down her back, neatly bound, and a slim data-tab hovered at her side.
"This is my daughter," Zerath continued. "And my secretary."
She adjusted her glasses and offered a professional nod.
"Virelya Kaul'drake," she said. "Welcome to Orpheon Prime."
Krishna inclined his head respectfully.
Zerath gestured inward, toward the luminous halls beyond the gate.
"Please," he said. "Come inside."
As Krishna crossed the threshold, the crystal walls shifted subtly, light bending around him as if acknowledging his presence.
The gate closed behind them.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
There will be two chapters a week(Monday and Tuesday)
If delayed I would post it on Wednesday or Thursday.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!!