Chapter 1 — The Fallen Idol
The night outside Esplanite Concert Hall was alive.
Crowds flowed through the open plaza, laughter mixing with music spilling from nearby streets. Phones were raised. Voices overlapped. A city comfortable with noise.
Above it all, a massive LED screen burned bright.
JAY LU — SEA CONCERT TOUR 2040
June 13 · National Stadium · 7PM
His face filled the screen.
Perfect smile. Perfect lighting.
A national icon—reborn in just two years.
People stopped to take photos.
Some pointed. Some whispered.
A hooded figure passed beneath the screen without looking up.
He moved against the current, hands in his pockets, head lowered. The glow from the display washed over him briefly, then slipped away as he walked on.
Further down the street, the noise softened.
A long wall came into view, layered with posters — old, new, half-overlapping. Concerts. Events. Faces trying to stay remembered.
One poster stood out.
WILD BEAT.
Two figures.
But only one face remained intact.
The left side was torn away.
Paper peeled. Staples bent. Nothing left but a jagged edge where someone used to be.
The hooded man slowed, just for a moment.
Didn't stop.
Didn't look back.
He crossed the bridge opposite Majina Bey Sands, the skyline stretching wide before him. The water below reflected the city lights in fractured streaks, restless but distant.
He stopped at the center of the bridge.
Pulled out his phone.
The screen flickered to life.
A video loaded.
Two young men on stage. Head mics on. Lights exploding behind them.
The crowd at National Stadium roared.
Wild Beat.
A time when everything still made sense.
His jaw tightened.
His hand curled into a fist.
Footsteps passed behind him.
Two girls walked by, umbrellas tucked under their arms.
"I'm heading for church group later," one said casually.
"You still believe that stuff?" the other laughed.
"Yeah," she replied. "God gave me peace."
Their voices faded as they walked on.
The first drops fell.
Light at first.
Then heavier.
People hurried away, shelter calling them back into the city.
He stayed.
Rain soaked into his hoodie. Ran down his face. Mixed with something warmer he didn't bother wiping away.
The bridge emptied.
The rain came down harder, louder, as if the night itself was closing in.
Then—
A streak of light.
A shooting star tore across the sky above Majina Bey Sands, fast enough to be missed by anyone who wasn't looking up.
His breath caught.
His chest burned.
He clenched his fists.
And finally—
He shouted.
Anger ripping out of him before he could stop it.
"If you're real—!"
His voice broke, raw and desperate.
"Then show me!"
Silence.
The star was gone.
The rain kept falling.
His shoulders sagged.
A bitter breath escaped him.
"God huh…"
A breath.
"…what am I even thinking."
He turned away.
And walked into the rain — alone.