Dorian sat behind the massive, glowing control console of his new studio, his fingers hovering over the faders. Inside the soundproof booth, the hottest singer in the galaxy, Briane Taleini, stood with her eyes closed, headphones over her ears.
She sang the final line, her voice a haunting, ethereal whisper that seemed to hang in the air long after the note had faded.
"Hello, welcome home..."
Silence filled the studio. Briane opened her eyes, looking through the glass at Dorian. He still had his eyes closed, listening to the playback in his own headset. Her expression was expectant, a little nervous. Behind Dorian, on the plush leather couch, her manager Kio and Ratik sat, leaning forward, holding their breath.
Dorian let out a long, heavy sigh. "Haaahh... I can't..."
Briane's shoulders slumped, a dejected expression crossing her beautiful face.
Then, Dorian smirked, opening his eyes. "I can't believe you smashed that in one take."
Briane's head snapped up. "Wait, really?"
"It's great," Dorian said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "I have absolutely no notes. That was perfect."
"Let's go!!" Briane cheered, pumping a fist in the air inside the booth.
"Uhh, Briane," Dorian said, pressing the talkback button, his tone jokingly severe. "You are number one on the Board's hit list right now, so mind your manners."
Briane stepped out of the booth, pulling off her headphones. "Boo! You're bullying me! Kio, he is bullying me again!"
Kio, looking relieved, laughed. "Right... so you don't want to work with him again?"
"Haaa, alas," Briane sighed dramatically, draping herself over a chair. "My career is on the line. I am forced to endure his tyranny."
They all let out an easy, comfortable laugh.
"We can release this as the first promotional single," Ratik said, her mind already on the logistics. "Briane is still hot in the news cycle right now. And since you are singing with her on this track, we can schedule a music video shoot."
"Are you going to make an appearance, Composer?" Briane asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Do I need to?" Dorian asked.
"Your mysterious mask is still garnering a lot of buzz," Ratik noted. "You could make it explode by revealing it or at least featuring the persona in the music video."
"No," Dorian said firmly. "I will stay hidden. The mask stays on."
"Fine by me," Ratik said without missing a beat. She looked at Briane. "Whatever the Composer is comfortable with."
Just then, Kio looked down at her heliopad, her eyes widening. "Oh! The Gilded Crescendo just started their live announcement."
"Oh, really?" Briane and Ratik said in unison, their interest piqued.
Ratik pulled a small holographic puck from her pocket and tossed it onto the floor in the center of the room. It whirred to life, projecting a large, high-definition live feed of the galaxy's most prestigious music award show announcement.
"Can you not do it in here?" Dorian complained, swiveling his chair away.
"Are you not curious?" Briane asked, moving to stand behind him. "It's the biggest music award show in the galaxy! What if you are in it? Oh, I need to record your reaction!"
She pulled out her own recording orb, positioning it carefully.
"Hey, not my face," Dorian warned, holding up a hand.
"I know, I know," she said, angling the orb so it only captured the back of his head and his hand gestures. "Just watch!"
Dorian sighed, defeated by their enthusiasm. He swiveled his chair back around to face the hologram. "Fine. I'll watch it." He glanced at his console. "Leo, grab us some popcorn."
"On it," the Compadre replied from the wall dock.
…
The group settled into the plush couches of the studio, the holographic projection floating in the center of the room. Briane tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, her eyes widening.
"Huummm," she hummed, chewing delightedly. "This is really good popcorn. Like, strangely good."
"Of course," Dorian said, staring at the screen. "It's homegrown on my land. Top quality." He didn't mention the magical Junimos or the instant-grow fertilizer.
The fanfare of the Gilded Crescendo played, and a familiar face materialized on the projection. It was Gil Nothos, looking regal in a midnight-blue formal suit.
"Hello, galaxy," Gil's amplified voice boomed. "I am Gil Nothos, and I am honored to announce the nominees for one of the most coveted titles in music: Songwriter and Producer of the Year."
As he spoke, a golden chyron appeared beneath his name: Gil Nothos - 75-Time Gilded Winner.
Dorian choked, spitting out his drink. "Seventy-five?!"
"Many legends have claimed it," Gil continued smoothly. "Some of my colleagues and I, sitting comfortably as nineteenth-time winners, are still chasing to be the first to get their twentieth in Producer of the Year categories. But this year... this year is the year we welcome the new movers and shakers in music. Well done, cheers, and good luck to all of you."
The screen faded to a montage of clips. "For Songwriter of the Year, the nominees are..."
The announcer rattled off four names, titans of the industry. Dorian relaxed.
"...and for his debut works, 'Skyfall' and 'No Time to Die'... Percival."
"OH, it is you, Composer!" Briane shrieked, grabbing his arm.
"Dorian!" Ratik said, a rare, wide smile breaking her composure. "It is a milestone! Congratulations!"
Kio clapped enthusiastically. "Congrats, Composer! That is huge!"
Dorian sat there, his face completely blank. His brain had simply stopped processing input.
The announcer continued immediately. "And for Producer of the Year..."
In the midst of the excitement, Briane and Ratik were still shaking the catatonic Dorian, celebrating the songwriting nod, so they almost missed it. But Kio saw it.
"You're here again!" Kio shouted, pointing at the screen.
The room went silent. There it was. Percival. Nominated for Producer of the Year.
The excitement in the room shifted from shock to a chaotic, cheerful frenzy. The door to the studio hissed open, and Lyra walked in, holding a datapad. "What is going on? I can hear you guys from the hallway."
"Your brother won a Gilded Award!" Briane yelled, jumping up and down.
"Huh?" Lyra looked at Dorian.
Dorian turned his head slowly, his eyes unfocused, his voice a robotic monotone. "It is still... just a nominee."
Lyra squinted at him. "Is he becoming a Compadre? Why is he talking like that?"
They watched further. More categories passed. Briane herself was nominated for Best Pop Solo Performance for "No Time to Die," which elicited another round of cheers. Then, it was time for the "Big Four," the most prestigious awards of the night.
Rita Bralare appeared on screen to present them. The subtitle beneath her name read: Rita Bralare - 54-Time Gilded Winner.
"For Best New Artist," Rita said, her icy demeanor softened by a hint of pride.
She listed the names. And then, the final one. "...and Juno Park."
"HOLY!!" Dorian shouted, jolting out of his stupor so fast he nearly knocked over the popcorn bowl. "I need to tell her! Leo, call her! No, wait, text her!"
"And for Record of the Year," Rita continued.
The list appeared.
Star Hunts - Lorin Dolla
...
Skyfall - Juno Park (Prod. Percival)
No Time to Die - Briane Taleini (Prod. Percival)
Dorian went limp again. Two of the five slots were his. He was competing against himself.
Lyra stared at the screen, the realization finally hitting her. "Okay," she whispered. "My brother is making more of an impact on the galaxy than I thought. That... is insane."
The Album of the Year nominees were announced, but since Dorian hadn't released a full album yet, the room largely ignored it, busy celebrating the double-nomination.
"And finally," Rita said, "Song of the Year. This award honors the songwriters."
The screen flashed.
Marching - Jevon Nimbh
...
Skyfall - Written by Percival.
No Time to Die - Written by Percival.
Dorian let out a long, ragged gasp, as if his soul was physically leaving his body through his mouth. He slumped deep into the chair, staring at the ceiling.
The studio door opened again. John and Marcus stood there, looking concerned at the noise. "What happened?" John asked. "Is everyone okay?"
Briane, Ratik, Kio, and Lyra all turned and shouted in unison: "Dorian won Record and Song of the Year!"
From the depths of the chair, a faint, weak voice drifted up.
"It's... still... nominee..."
And then he fainted.
…
The bright, natural sun of Friton streamed through the window, hitting Dorian squarely in the face. He groaned, burying his head in the pillow, but the persistent, mechanical voice of his Compadre would not be denied.
"Dorian... Dorian... It is time for breakfast."
"Five more minutes," Dorian mumbled into the mattress.
"Negative," Leo droned. "The eggs will get cold. And the guests are waiting."
"Guests?" Dorian sat up, blinking, his hair a chaotic bird's nest. He washed his face, the cold water doing little to fix the mess on his head, and shuffled out of his room towards the kitchen.
He walked into the dining room, still half-asleep. "Good morning," he mumbled to the room at large, passing the table where his family, Ratik, Briane, and Kio were all seated.
"Good morning," a chorus of voices replied.
Dorian walked to the cold box, grabbed a pitcher of juice, and poured himself a glass. He took a sip. Then, his brain finally caught up with his eyes. He froze. He slowly turned around, doing a comical double-take.
Briane Taleini, the galactic pop star, and her manager Kio were sitting at his dining table, eating scrambled eggs.
"Why are you still here?" Dorian asked, bewildered.
John, who was refilling Kio's coffee, answered without looking up. "You were working late, Dorian. We cannot have young ladies going out in the dead of night. It isn't safe. I thought I taught you this."
Dorian stared at his father. "Dad... there is noon somewhere in another system. Space travel doesn't work like that."
John just waved a spatula dismissively. "A polite host ensures safe travel. Eat your breakfast."
Briane chuckled, looking surprisingly fresh despite the late night. She turned to Lyra. "So, you are going to Astra Nova? That's cool. The law program there is intense."
"It is," Lyra beamed, clearly starstruck but trying to play it cool. "But I like the challenge. Oh! Can we take a photo? It's a tradition to take a photo with the Kepler family whenever we have guests."
"Sure, why not?" Briane smiled.
"Wait," Dorian interjected, running a hand through his disastrous hair. "I still have bed hair. Let me fix it."
"Even better," Lyra grinned mischievously.
"You just want your brother to look messy for the photo so you look better," Dorian accused.
"Guilty," she chirped.
They all settled in for breakfast. The food, prepared by John using high-quality Stardew Valley Gacha ingredients; [Large Milk], [Large Eggs], and [Blue Jazz] seasoning was incredible.
"So," Kio started, taking a bite of a hashbrown. "Congratulations again on the nominations, Composer. Songwriter and Producer of the Year. That's a heavy crown."
Dorian sighed, stabbing a sausage. "It's heavy alright. I feel like I have a target on my back." He looked across the table. "Of course, Senior Briane, you already have your own Gilded Awards. You probably know the feeling."
Briane laughed, a relaxed, unpracticed sound. "Oh, please. My first year? I was a nervous wreck. I tripped on the red carpet. Twice. You're doing fine." She gestured around the table with her fork. "Honestly, this... this is better than any after-party. Is this Zilka egg? The texture is unreal."
"It is," John said proudly. "Fresh from the coop this morning."
"And these strawberries?" Briane asked, picking one up. "They taste like... summer. Real summer."
"Those are from the greenhouse," Marcus piped up. "I helped water them!"
"Good job, Marcus," Briane said, winking at him. "You're a better farmer than most people on the agri-worlds."
The conversation flowed easily, shifting from the high-stakes pressure of the music industry to the simple, grounding topics of gardening, school projects, and the best way to cook a Muurbeast steak. For a moment, Briane wasn't a superstar, and Dorian wasn't a genius composer. They were just people, sharing a meal in a sunlit room.
After breakfast, they gathered in the living room. Leo floated up, acting as the camera.
"Say 'Cheese'!" Marcus shouted.
"Cheese!"
Click.
The photo captured it all: John's proud smile, Lyra's peace sign, Marcus grinning widely, Briane looking radiant, Ratik looking professional but pleased, Kio laughing, and Dorian in the middle, looking bewildered with his hair sticking up in three different directions.
A few minutes later, the group split up. Briane and Kio boarded the private ship they had chartered, a sleek, silver vessel piloted by a uniformed chauffeur. Dorian, Lyra, and Marcus boarded the Millennium Falcon.
John stood on the grassy field, waving as both ships fired their engines. First, the silver yacht ascended smoothly into the blue sky. Then, the Falcon, with a roar of its powerful, modified engines, blasted off, banking sharply as it headed for orbit.
John watched until they were just specks against the clouds. He lowered his hand, the silence of the farm returning.
Leo hovered beside him. "Where should we hang the photo, Master John?"
John rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Maybe we should have a dedicated wall. For these celebs who come to our house."
"Should we move the pictures of Rita Bralare and Gil Nothos there, too?" Leo asked.
John smiled, rolling up his sleeves as he turned back towards the house. "Yes. But we should make room for Dorian's awards, too. And soon, for Lyra's degrees and Marcus's... whatever Marcus decides to conquer. We're going to need a bigger wall."
He clapped his hands together. "Let's do this, Leo."
Leo's internal fans whirred happily. "Let's go, Master."
…
Roric's stream started not with a countdown, but with a dramatic, theatrical blast of his smoke machine. The screen was filled with swirling fog, and then Roric emerged, coughing dramatically, waving his hands.
He looked different. More energetic. Healthier. The steady, increasing revenue from being the pioneer streamer of Stardew Valley had allowed him to invest in better food, better equipment, and, perhaps most importantly, a life outside the VR suit. The fact that the official Stardew forums were his idea, and that Round Table Studios had somehow made him an official administrator, had cemented his status as a community leader.
"Haahh," he coughed, grinning at the camera as the chat exploded with laughter and emotes. "You guys love torturing me, huh?"
He sat down in his new, ergonomic chair. "Today, we are just gonna do reactions and chill. The Stardew forum has been buzzing for days. It seems Round Table Studios is about to make a move."
The chat flashed by.
: i applied for the narrative job! the questions were so hard!
: do you think it's a new game or just another DLC?
: Stardew 2 confirmed??
"Hmmmm," Roric mused, leaning back. "I think it is a big DLC for Stardew, chat."
The chat was instantly divided.
: New IP!
: definitely an expansion.
"Think about it," Roric argued. "Round Table is already printing money with the sales of the game. Granted, they haven't added any microtransactions which is insane, by the way, but if they did, it would be unlimited money. Why risk a new IP?"
: BOOO! don't give them ideas!
: cynicism is not a good look roric lol
"Okay, okay!" Roric laughed. "Let's bet, chat. You guys say it is a new game. I say it is a big DLC. If you win, I make a donation to a charity of your choosing. If you lose, you have to meet my donation goals for the month, and then I choose your charity too."
The chat was on fire.
: LETS GOOO!
: you're going down old man!
: we will win this roric.
[Unknown Planet - Outer Rim Border]
"We will win this, Roric," Jess whispered, typing the message on the heliopad Gale had just bought her. She hit send, a small smile on her face.
"Jess!" Gale's voice called out from the cockpit. "I am going to the market. Are you coming with!"
Jess quickly turned off her heliopad and tucked it into her secret hiding spot behind a loose panel in the ship's bulkhead. She ran to meet Gale at the ramp.
"Whoa, careful there," Gale chuckled as she nearly collided with his leg.
"Where are we now?" she asked, looking out at the new world.
"I do not know," Gale admitted, adjusting his cloak. "But I bet you they have some artifacts we can sell to the Rim traders to get us some passage credits."
They walked out onto the small, unique island planet. It looked like a mishmash of rural Spain and France from Old Earth history books, a vertical city built into the side of a massive cliff overlooking a turquoise sea. Stalls and shops were packed along the winding, cobblestone paths that hugged the cliff edge.
Gale spotted a stall selling what looked like pre-Accord navigational tech. "Stay close," he murmured.
He picked up an old, brass astrolabe. "How much for this?" he asked the stall owner, a weathered human with one eye.
"Five hundred credits," the owner grunted.
"Two hundred," Gale countered.
"Four-fifty."
Jess tugged on Gale's sleeve. She pointed at a small scratch on the lens. "The prism is cracked," she said, her voice clear and innocent. "And the calibration ring is bent. It will not read true north without a replacement gear."
The stall owner looked at the small girl, then at the object in Gale's hand. He scowled. "Smart kid. Your daughter?"
Gale looked at Jess. He hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah."
The stall owner sighed. "Fine. Three hundred. For the smart mouth."
Jess beamed, her confidence growing. "Two-fifty," she countered boldly. "And you throw in that old map."
The owner laughed. "Deal."
Gale paid the man, a proud smile hidden beneath his beard. They took their prize and started moving up the winding path.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the top of the island. Shouting. The sound of heavy boots marching.
The crowd on the main winding road parted like a slow, fearful sea. Marching down the center were Legion troopers, their white armor gleaming in the bright island sun. Between them, stumbling in heavy chains, was a line of prisoners. They were ragged, terrified civilians. Men, women... and at the end of the line, a boy who couldn't have been older than Jess.
"Let's go," Gale whispered urgently, grabbing Jess's shoulder. "Now."
But Jess stood rooted to the spot. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the boy in chains. She felt something, a pull, a vibration in the air that hummed against her skin. It was as if the world itself was guiding her, screaming at her.
"No," she whispered.
She pulled away from Gale and began to walk, small and unnoticed, behind the parting crowd, following the grim parade towards the cliff edge.
"Jess!" Gale hissed, but he couldn't shout. He cursed under his breath and followed her, his hand hovering near the Helios pistol hidden under his cloak.
The crowd followed at a distance, shouting pleas that fell on deaf ears. "Release them! They are innocent! They are just children! They don't know anything!"
The procession stopped at the very edge of the high cliff. The turquoise sea crashed against the rocks hundreds of meters below. The prisoners were forced to their knees, lined up with their backs to the drop.
Gale caught up to Jess, grabbing her hand tight. He leaned towards a nearby stall owner, a being with a long, sorrowful snout. "What is happening?"
The stall owner didn't look at him; his eyes were fixed on the ground. "Some gunman killed a Legion trooper three days ago," he murmured, his voice thick with fear. "The gunman disappeared. So, the Legion... they caught the gunman, but as you can see... it has multiplied. Every day, they bring new people. They say they are suspects. Accomplices." He shook his head. "Excuses. They are just making examples."
The crowd surged forward but was held back by a line of troopers with leveled Radiant Carbines. Gale and Jess were pushed to the front, giving them a horrific, front-row view.
The Legion Commander stepped forward. He didn't look at the weeping prisoners. He looked at his chrono-meter. "For crimes against the Stellar Accord," he announced, his amplified voice flat and bored, "we officially sentence you to death."
He didn't even give the order to aim. The firing squad simply raised their rifles.
Crack-thoom.
Several rounds of searing yellow light erupted from the photon chambers. The sound was deafening. The prisoners slumped backward, their bodies tumbling silently off the edge, plummeting into the beautiful sea below.
Gale flinched. He felt Jess's small hand spasm in his.
"Line!" the Commander barked.
The firing squad marched back, perfectly synchronized, ready to reload or leave, indifferent to the lives they had just ended.
Gale dropped to one knee. "Jess," he whispered, panic rising in his chest. "We have to go. Now." He reached to pick her up.
But Jess didn't move. She was staring at the troopers, her eyes burning with a strange, terrifying intensity. Slowly, trembling with effort, she raised her small hand.
The Commander opened his mouth to give the order to march. No sound came out.
Suddenly, the entire firing squad stopped. They dropped their rifles, their hands flying to their throats. They clawed at their own armor, gagging, their legs kicking as they were lifted, impossibly, inches off the ground. They hung there, suspended by an invisible, crushing grip, their white armor creaking under the pressure.
Gale stared in shock. He looked at the troopers, choking in mid-air, and then he looked down at Jess. Her hand was clenched in a claw shape, her face pale, a thin line of blood trickling from her nose. She was doing this.
The crowd gasped, falling silent. The Commander, struggling against the invisible noose, reached for his sidearm.
Gale reacted on pure instinct. He flared his own internal Solar energy, not to fight, but to move. He surged forward, scooping Jess up into his arms, breaking her line of sight.
The troopers crashed to the ground, gasping for air, coughing violently.
"Get away!" Gale roared to the crowd.
He bolted. He didn't look back. He used every ounce of his enhanced strength, sprinting through the confused, terrified crowd, weaving through the stalls. He heard shouting behind him, the crack of a carbine firing blindly, but he was already gone, a blur of motion disappearing into the winding streets.
He didn't stop until he reached the hidden alcove where he had parked the ship. Jess was limp in his arms, unconscious, her energy spent. He ran up the boarding ramp, his breath coming in ragged tears. He didn't even bother with the pre-flight checks. He slammed Jess into the oversized co-pilot's seat, strapped her in with shaking hands, and threw himself into the pilot's chair.
"Launch!" he shouted, punching the ignition.
The engines roared to life, and the stolen ship blasted into the sky, leaving the island, the cliff, and the confused, terrified Legion far behind.
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**