Chapter 12: The Winged Ideal
[Backstage – Registration Area]
The backstage was a labyrinth of wires, instrument cases, and nervous energy. Joshua adjusted the straps of his bag, his eyes scanning the various performers—casters readying light-show Arts, vocalists practicing scales—when he bumped into a young girl with Lupo ears and a timid but bright expression.
She was clutching a microphone to her chest, her hands trembling.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" she squeaked, bowing quickly.
"Don't worry about it," Joshua smiled, his voice naturally calming. "First time?"
"For a stage this big? Yes," she admitted, looking at the registration sheet. "Sora. I... I want to be an idol. I want to prove that music can reach people just as well as magic. What about you?"
Joshua looked at his own registration—marked under the pseudonym 'Marshmallow.' "I'm here to fund a dream. A very expensive, very difficult dream."
"Then we're the same," Sora said, her shyness momentarily replaced by a spark of kinship. "Let's both give it our all."
As they parted ways, Joshua found himself face-to-face with the "Guest of Honor." He expected a university dean or a corporate sponsor. Instead, he found a penguin. A penguin in a gold chain, an oversized coat, and sunglasses that radiated a sheer, primordial swagger.
"Mr. Emperor, please calm down; the event hasn't started yet, sir."
"Then what are you all waiting for? Hurry up and get it started!"
Emperor. The Beast Lord was currently standing on a table, shouting into a radio about "dropping beats like orbital strikes" while his assistants scrambled to keep his cigar lit.
"Is that... a bird?" Saria whispered, having snuck backstage to check on him.
"Bio-signature is anomalous," Kristen noted from behind her, her eyes narrowed in clinical fascination. "He possesses a high-density life force. Statistically, he should not be able to wear that much jewelry without collapsing. Fascinating."
"He's the judge," Joshua muttered, a cold sweat forming. "This is going to be a very long night."
[The Audience—A Seat in the Mid-Row]
In the middle of the crowd, a man named Yi Sang sat with his hands folded in his lap. To anyone else, Yi Sang looked like a successful researcher with a stable life and a bright future. To himself, he felt like a wilted leaf in a glass jar.
He was burned out. The "ideal" he had once chased in his youth had been crushed by the mundanity of corporate academia. His friends had dragged him here, hoping the music would stir something in his hollow chest, but so far, the performances had been… empty. Catchy, yes. Technically proficient, certainly. But soulless.
"What the heck was that?! You call that rap!!" Emperor furiously insulted the participant's rapping skill while the staff restrained emperor, who was furiously flipping his wing and asking for the fight. The participant quickly
"Next participant," Emperor's voice boomed over the speakers, followed by the sound of a record scratching. "Coming out of the Engineering Department with a head like a water tank... give it up for Marshmallow!"
A ripple of confused laughter spread through the crowd as a figure stepped onto the stage. Joshua was dressed in clean, white streetwear, but it was the headwear that drew the most stares: a large, white cylinder with a simplified, glowing LED smiley face.
Joshua stood before the microphone. The laughter died down as he began to speak, his voice processed through a slight electronic filter.
"Lately, I've been struggling," he said. "I have a dream that everyone tells me is impossible. I was on the verge of giving up—of doing the 'stable' thing, the 'approved' thing. But I decided to fight for it. One more time. This song is for everyone who feels like their wings are too heavy to lift."
He sat at the keyboard. The lights dimmed to a deep, midnight blue.
"The Song named 'Fly, My Wings'"[1]
The first notes of the piano were delicate, almost hesitant, like raindrops hitting a window.
"Fly, broken wings
I know you are still with me
All I need is a nudge to get me started"
Yi Sang's breath caught in his throat. The atmosphere in the auditorium didn't just change; it vanished.
As the melody built, the imagery hit the audience with the force of a physical blow. Joshua poured every ounce of his frustration—the argument with the Dean, the struggle of being a Nullifier, the memories of a world he could never return to—into the keys.
For Yi Sang, the song became a mirror. He saw his past self: the young man working until his bones ached, struggling to survive, yet alive. He remembered the heat of the lab, the laughter of friends, and the feeling of a soul on fire.
Then came the climax.
"Fly, perfect wings
Where have you been hiding?
Bring me to the mind that got us started."
Joshua's voice soared, shedding the electronic filter. The LEDs on his mask flared with a brilliant, hopeful light. In that moment, the "Sound and Light" Arts programmed by Muelsyse and Kristen activated. Two shimmering, translucent wings of light erupted from Joshua's back—not organic wings, but wings made of mirrors and geometry.
The "Mirror Wings."
The tone of the song shifted from a mournful crawl to a triumphant flight. It told the audience that even if their wings were broken, they could be rebuilt. That the "Ideal" wasn't dead; it was just waiting for a spark.
"For the one last time, if you will
That's all."
As the final note echoed into the rafters and the lights faded, silence took the room.
It was a heavy, suffocating silence—the kind that happens when thousands of people realize they've been holding their breath.
Then, from the front row, two people stood up. Saria and Muelsyse began to applaud, their hands striking with a rhythmic, thunderous force.
The ripple effect was instantaneous.
The silence was shattered by a roar that shook the auditorium walls. Students were standing on chairs; even the stoic professors were wiping their eyes.
Yi Sang sat in the middle of it all, tears streaming down his face. He didn't feel like a wilted leaf anymore. He felt… light.
[The Judge's Table]
Emperor leaned back in his chair, his sunglasses reflecting the cheering crowd. He hopped onto the table and pointed a feathered wing at the stage.
"That," the penguin squawked, his voice cutting through the noise. "That was some real 'New Era' soul. You got the prize, kid. Don't let the suits take those wings off you."
Joshua stood on the stage, his chest heaving under the mask. He looked toward the side of the stage where Saria was standing. She wasn't cheering anymore; she was just looking at him with an expression of absolute, unwavering belief.
He had the money. He had the sponsorship.
His goal was no longer a dream.
[1] I highly recommend you go to listen the song by Mili.