1236-1240

Chapter 1236: Running Wildly

The rhythm surged.

The melody roared.

Passion and enthusiasm were released entirely, dancing freely atop the peak of the universe.

Wave after wave, an unstoppable torrent rolled forward. Thousands upon thousands of eyes fixated on the single figure at the center of the stage. No spotlight was needed—he was the spotlight.

One of a kind.

His carefree and stylish attire exuded an effortless confidence, so much so that the entire Staples Center seemed to tremble at his feet.

Unbelievable. Such a simple, rough, and raw stage could radiate such immense energy.

The world spun faster around Anson.

As the performance reached its peak, Anson took a deep breath and executed a vocal modulation.

"If they say, who would care about another light fading, under the vast starry sky where it still shines, always shines?"

"Who would care if someone’s time comes to an end? If we are but a drop in the ocean, we must hold on, hold on tight." (Note 1)

So tender, yet so resilient—a ray of sunlight tearing through boundless darkness, scattering its glow. The world, painted deep blue, began to brighten ever so softly.

Then the guitar fell silent, followed by the cello, and then the keyboard.

One by one, like stars blinking out of existence, the melody stripped itself bare. Finally, only the bass remained, low and steady, wrapping around Anson’s voice like an anchor.

"Who would care about another light fading?"

"Yes, I care."

At last, even the bass faded into the void, leaving only Anson’s voice reverberating in the air.

The performance... was it over?

The song ended, but the Staples Center couldn’t snap back to reality. Amid the August 31st band’s performance, all sense of reason and judgment was lost. Drenched in the music, the audience wandered aimlessly, letting themselves drift in the melodies.

Only now did they begin to regain some clarity, but before they could process what was happening, Anson gently tapped the body of his guitar, and the crisp sound echoed through the microphone.

Archie’s heart skipped a beat. "Wake Me Up?"

At that moment, the genetic instincts of every August 31st fan stirred. Without even hearing the opening melody, they were primed for celebration.

But then, on stage, the corner of Anson’s mouth curled into a smile that lit up his face.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh..."

Wait—was this "Long Live Life?"

Archie froze.

The tapping rhythm on the guitar screamed "Wake Me Up," yet Anson was humming the tune of "Long Live Life."

What was happening? Was this another new arrangement, like the opening song?

A mix of curiosity and excitement ignited in Archie’s chest, burning brighter by the second.

Thud-thud-clap, thud-thud-clap.

It was still Anson, alone, tapping his guitar and humming "Long Live Life," weaving together two distinct melodies in perfect harmony, birthing something entirely new.

Then Miles joined in—

The soulful, resonant sound of the cello floated into the air.

Next came Lily, striking her keyboard with amateurish simplicity, her notes like tinkling streams blending into the cello's sweeping soundscape.

Soon, Connor plucked his bass strings, their deep tones spreading through the air and infusing the performance with life. Slowly, the melody awakened, becoming vibrant and powerful.

This was "Wake Me Up!"

Yet Anson’s ethereal voice continued to hum "Long Live Life." Who would’ve thought these two completely different songs could collide and spark an extraordinary chemical reaction? An overwhelming surge of emotion began to flood the vast space.

At times gentle, at times stormy.

At times a whisper, at times a roar.

The seamless interplay of melodies once again showcased the unique brilliance of the August 31st band. Everything revolved around the instruments—far more than just vocals or tunes, the instruments themselves were the heart of their music.

As the performance reached an emotional crescendo, the crew appeared again—this time with a drum kit!

A single snare drum was placed in front of Anson. Instead of picking up drumsticks, he used his bare hand to strike the drumhead, crafting a rhythm that drove the melody toward its apex.

Finally, the singing began!

"Wake Me Up"—it was unmistakably "Wake Me Up!"

Two years had passed since the band first performed this song on the streets of Manhattan. Apart from a brief appearance on The Tonight Show, this was the first time the song was performed on a major stage. Fans had waited far too long.

Despite this being their first live experience, the audience had no trouble connecting instantly. The rhythm pulled them in, and the beats left them breathless.

What was once a legendary performance spoken of only in whispers was now unfolding before their very eyes. Slowly but surely, the audience's rational minds unraveled, swept up in the storm of passion unleashed by the band’s individual solos.

Then came the unrestrained euphoria—

Thud-thud-thud! Anson struck the snare drum.

"Oh, oh, oh!" The band members sang in unison.

Archie could no longer hold back. Throwing his arms into the air, he jumped and sang along, pouring his soul into the rhythm that filled the arena.

A radiant, joyful smile spread across his face—unbidden, pure, and unfiltered.

He wasn’t alone.

Everywhere Archie looked, from Gloria to the others waiting outside the Staples Center, everyone had surrendered to the music, their inhibitions cast aside. Together, they leaped and sang, letting the rhythm and melody consume them.

Laughter overflowed from their chests.

Inside the arena, the guests were no exception.

The entire crowd stood as one.

In this moment, there were no age differences, no genders, no nationalities—just the purest form of music, awakening happiness deep within and forming unspoken connections.

And so, their actions became simple.

Raise your hands. Jump. Sing.

That was all.

The guests, too, joined the August 31st band in song.

The scene was unimaginable.

Standing ovations and synchronized jumping were already rare enough—reminiscent of the Beatles’ 40th anniversary show.

But tonight, it wasn’t just a celebration of music; it was a full-blown concert at the Grammys.

Majestic.

As the crowd sang along, Anson upped the ante. Tossing the drumsticks behind him, he propelled the performance to its peak amidst the deafening cheers.

"Wake me up when we’ve reached the end, when I’m wiser and older."

"Searching for myself all this time, never realizing I was lost… never realizing I was lost, oh-oh-oh... never realizing I was lost!"

Each wave of sound surged higher than the last. The Staples Center transformed into a volcano, its roaring heat engulfing everyone in its path.

So, was this the end?

No, the stage shifted once again.

Behind the four members, four curtains slowly descended, altering the stage’s backdrop. Meanwhile, as Anson hummed, the lighting changed, casting the scene into a dreamlike haze.

A fleeting moment—like stepping into a dream, blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

Note 1: Lyrics adapted from "One More Light" by Linkin Park.

Chapter 1237: Resonating Drumbeats

Undoubtedly, this was an incredible spectacle—

During the performance, the band was assembled piece by piece; stagehands constructed the stage and adjusted the lighting on the spot, deconstructing the entire show as a live broadcast.

What a sight to behold!

At this moment, every question, every mystery was answered. On August 31st, the band embraced simplicity and authenticity, building their performance from the ground up to kick off the second half of the 46th Annual Grammy Awards.

The curtain fell.

The lights dimmed.

Once again, Anson began tapping on the guitar box. A gentle yet resolute rhythm trickled forth as he stood before the microphone, softly humming:

“Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh…”

Astonishingly, the melody seamlessly transitioned back into the rhythm of Viva La Vida.

However, in a slight departure from expectations, the stage lights gradually shrank, focusing solely on Anson. Only a small circular spotlight remained, encasing his head like an astronaut’s helmet.

Visually, it appeared as if Anson’s head were floating in mid-air.

It was bizarre, yet it delivered an extraordinary visual impact with its minimalist approach.

Finally, the lights went out, plunging the venue into complete darkness. Only Anson’s humming lingered, stretching infinitely through the void. The Staples Center fell utterly silent—no sound, no movement, not even the sound of breathing.

Yet no one lost focus. Their thoughts wandered in the dark, exploring the mysteries and depths of the black hole. From sight to sound to touch, the audience entered a subtle ambiance, each person falling into their own world.

*Snap.*

The lights came back on.

This time, there was only one—a spotlight placed at the front edge of the stage, casting its beam upward. The burgundy hue illuminated Miles, projecting his figure onto the backdrop like a towering giant.

Miles drew his cello bow. The music soared and swelled—no longer delicate and tender, but now grand and majestic. The roof of the Staples Center seemed to open, revealing a cascade of endless starlight.

Then, one light extinguished, and another flicked on.

This time, it was the keyboard.

Lily’s silhouette danced on the backdrop. Drenched in sweat but beaming, her fingers danced nimbly across the black and white keys, the fluid melody rippling across the ears like shimmering waves of light—

You could almost see those waves of light.

The music became a force, surging through the chest, boiling the blood within.

Next came the bass.

Connor was wholly absorbed, cradling the guitar as if embracing a lover. He leaned back slightly, using his entire body as a fulcrum to support the bass. Yet there was an effortless, carefree grace in his posture.

The bass notes tugged at the thoughts, gently pulling them downward.

The red light shimmered softly, gradually shifting into a serene blue.

The harmony of sight and sound merged perfectly, sparking an explosion of unimaginable brilliance.

Finally, Anson.

Bathed in blue light, Anson hid behind the drum set, his eyes gleaming with brightness—a mix of mischief, excitement, and joy.

This Anson felt unfamiliar yet irresistibly magnetic.

The rapid, intricate drumbeats mirrored a sudden summer rain falling on banana leaves—an outpouring of fervor and jubilation mingling with the heat. The scent of sunlit soil filled the air, not oppressive but exhilarating, compelling one to run barefoot through the droplets.

Arms wide open, dancing freely.

Uncontrollably, irresistibly, bodies began to move and jump along.

*Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.*

It was Miles.

Under the blue light, both Anson and Miles appeared on the screen together.

The cello and drumbeats paired delicately. Though sparse, the two synchronized perfectly, narrating their story with tenderness and nuance.

Anson’s voice carried the melody, singing like a wandering minstrel:

"I once ruled the world, waves rose at my command. But now I face the dawn alone, pacing the desolate streets that were once mine."  

The bass joined in, steady and profound.

Then the keyboard, blending in with an airy, seamless flow.

One by one, they came together in perfect unison. The band members exchanged glances, smiling at one another’s disheveled state—

Sweaty, flushed faces.

They were all drenched, but at this moment, no one cared. They had completely forgotten the full house of guests at the Staples Center and even the fact that this was the Grammy stage.

At some point, they transcended themselves, entering a realm of pure performance.

It was just them—themselves, their instruments, the band, and the music. Immersed in their craft, they established a soul-deep connection with their instruments. The notes flowed naturally from their hearts.

Nothing else mattered.

It was pure, unadulterated joy.

"I once held dominion over life and death, reveling in the terror in my foes' eyes and the cheers of the masses: 'The old king is dead! Long live the king!'"  

"Now I grasp the threads of power, only to discover the palace walls are an endless abyss. My grand ambitions are but an ephemeral mirage."  

Natural, harmonious, resonant.

And because of this, the collision of notes and lyrics birthed an unbelievable chemistry that filled the air, all of it centering on Anson.

Time and space lost their meaning as they stood in the void of a black hole, reflecting on the past and envisioning the future. They were at once insignificant and monumental, transient and eternal. The warmth and power of life surged through their chests, uncontainable.

*Boom.*

At the crescendo, the instruments roared in unison, and Anson sang at full throttle:

"Hear the Jerusalem bells ringing, the Roman cavalry choirs singing, my mirror, my sword, and my shield, my missionaries in the foreign field."  

"For some reason I can’t explain, once you’re gone there was never, never an honest word, and that was when I ruled the world."  

*Clang-clang-clang. Boom-boom-boom.*

The clash of bells and drums intertwined, sending chills racing down spines.

In the spotlight, Anson’s eyes sparkled with unmasked happiness and unbridled joy. His gaze led the audience to Miles and Connor, who exchanged glances, their mouths curving into instinctive smiles.

The cello and bass intertwined, moving from serene to tempestuous. Their contrasting tones—rich and fiery, classical and modern—collided and sparked.

No singing, no lyrics, just the pure, raw power of instrumental music. Yet this performance shook the Staples Center to its core.

The audience sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape, utterly mesmerized by the spectacle before them, lost in the catharsis of the music.

*Thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud.*

The drums reentered.

It was Anson again, yet his addition did not disrupt the harmony. Instead, he merged with Miles and Connor, striking a profound chord within every heart.

Each beat resonated deeply, transcending time and space, striking directly at the soul. A flood of indescribable emotion erupted and swept through their minds, leaving them utterly defenseless as they soared freely in the storm.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 1238: Immersed in Music*

*Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.*

The rhythm of the drum reverberated, an ancient call that was deep, profound, and boundless. It shattered the confines of time and space, echoing in the depths of the soul.

*Boom, boom. Boom, boom.*

Uncontrollably, irresistibly, the heartbeat synchronized with the pounding drums, igniting the blood into a fiery blaze. Consciousness dissolved; individuality disappeared. In the endless river of melody, one got lost, yet the spirit soared, exhilarated. A wave of tingling surged from the soles of the feet to the crown of the head.

It was simplicity. It was purity.

In this moment, the stage ceased to be a performance, no longer part of the Grammy Awards ceremony. It became a pure expression of music, an experience that returned everything to its essence.

Back to the essence of music. Back to its simplicity.

With a focused gaze, Anson was utterly immersed. From behind the drum kit, he lifted his eyes, and in those star-filled orbs, the world seemed to pause.

Then, he turned to Lily.

The corners of his lips curved upward. Their eyes met, exchanging a fleeting glance. Lily’s fingertips landed gracefully on the black-and-white keys, perfectly in time, as Anson began to hum once more.

*“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh…”*

The clarity of the piano keys unexpectedly evoked the texture of percussion, interweaving and clashing with the drumbeats. The cello and bass strings danced and collided, rising and falling, high and low.

Anson sang.

*“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh…”*

Starlight scattered like a cascade, resembling a galaxy descending from the heavens, resplendent and magnificent.

Happiness and joy surged forward, brilliant and unrestrained, hitting like a tidal wave. The nose tingled, vision blurred.

Yet.

Archie didn’t care. Not one bit. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tears pooling in his eyes. Instead, he raised his arms high, singing along clumsily with his faltering, hoarse voice.

*“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh…”*

He knew—he knew it all. He understood his own insignificance, his own frailty, his own worthlessness. He couldn’t change the world, nor was he prepared to try. But he yearned to use his faint glimmer of light to illuminate a tiny corner. He believed in justice, in kindness, in dreams. He believed that this chaotic world would eventually find its way to the light.

He wanted to believe that life could offer so much more—beyond money, beyond power, beyond honor, beyond status. A vast world still awaited.

It was hard. But he kept holding on.

Tonight, he knew he was right. Foolishly and naively believing in dreams, he wasn’t alone.

From the resilience and sorrow of the first song to the persistence and release of Wake Me Up, and finally, to the grandeur and freedom of Viva la Vida—

They, too, were small, fragile, and seemingly insignificant. Yet, they were fearless. They charged ahead without hesitation. They embraced the sun and the universe with open arms, smiling in the face of storms and disasters. Marching forward, they used music and dreams as their weapons to craft a brighter future.

Foolish?

Utterly hopeless?

But Archie raised his hands high, cheering for them, running with them, unrestrained.

Because this was the kind of life that was worth living.

*“Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh…”*

Again. And again. Like a stubborn fool, Archie stood his ground, singing with defiance and loneliness, searching for companions in the endless darkness.

Then, one by one, voices joined in.

Turning his head, Archie saw Gloria’s face—flushed red, her smile radiant. With arms raised high, she sang, she jumped, she reveled with abandon.

Gradually, the crowd became one.

Outside the Staples Center, on a small plaza, an unprecedented scene unfolded.

Still, they were alone.

Because of the broadcast delay, the CBS live feed was five minutes behind. The Staples Center became an isolated island, quietly yet wildly celebrating in the vast, desolate darkness.

And yet, it seamlessly resonated with the performance of the August 31st band, breaking the fourth wall. Inside and out, a perfect harmony emerged.

Hearts swelled.

A rolling wave of fervor surged inward, engulfing the stage in an unstoppable tide.

Miles. Connor. Lily. Anson.

Exchanging glances, sensing each other’s presence. Without the need for words, they forged bonds through their music. After two turbulent years, sprinting side by side, they reached a pinnacle tonight. Finally, they cast aside burdens and pressures, reveling in the joy of music.

Smiles blossomed.

Happiness shone in their eyes.

Amid the collision of melodies, Anson sang once more:

*“I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing, Roman cavalry choirs are singing, Be my mirror, my sword, and shield, My missionaries in a foreign field.”* (Note 1)

*“For some reason I can’t explain, Once you’re gone, there was never, Never an honest word, And that was when I ruled the world.”*

With a clean, crisp ending, the performance concluded. But there was no time to pause. Within four beats, the atmosphere transformed abruptly.

*Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.* Drums, urgent.

*Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz.* Strings, vibrant.

Anson and Miles sang in harmony, their passionate performance unleashing the full power of the melody.

It was like a storm.

*Thud, thud, thud.* Bass, heavy.

*Ting, ting, ting.* Keys, light.

Connor and Lily played in perfect sync, pouring sweat and passion into every note. The world roared.

A deluge.

Echoing, reverberating, spiraling—

The charm of instruments revealed itself fully in this moment.

Perhaps the fundamental difference between classical and popular music lies in this: classical music leans on instrumental performance, conveying emotion through pure melodies. Whether classical or modern, the beauty of notes and melodies remains eternal.

Music transcends culture and borders because of the resonance of its melodies.

Tonight, with Beyoncé’s dazzling 15-minute opening and the Beatles’ 40th-anniversary medley of classics, the Staples Center had already reached its peak. The audience, both live and at home, was fully immersed.

Who could resist such a feast for the senses?

A stage should be an experience for both sight and sound. From the song to the dance, the lights to the costumes, every element contributes to the performance.

That’s the truth, a 100% fact.

But when did that become the norm?

Once upon a time, folk, soul, blues, and jazz didn’t need visuals. They touched the soul solely through sound. In the pre-television era, the melodies flowing from radio programs stirred the heart just the same.

Performance matters. Visuals matter. But they should never replace sound.

Here, the August 31st band proved this with their actions. Using instruments and performance, they created a world of melody.

Wandering, surrendering, falling.

No one could resist.

It was indescribable.

One by one, souls dissolved into the music. Beyond language, beyond thought, it became a connection of pure emotion. At the Staples Center, the world crafted by the August 31st band united everyone—no exceptions.

---

(Note 1: Viva la Vida by Coldplay)

*(End of Chapter)*

Chapter 1239: The Pinnacle Moment

Passion burned fiercely.

In the spotlight, the members of the August 31st band were drenched in sweat, their faces flushed as though they had been pulled straight out of water. Their focus and immersion poured unreservedly into every note, reverberating across the vast venue. Waves of sound rippled outward, filling every corner.

Powerful. Surging.

Boom boom boom. Boom boom boom.

The drumbeats grew stronger and more intense, an unrelenting barrage pounding against eardrums and vibrating through chests. Deep within, an energy stirred restlessly, threatening to break free.

Bit by bit, the momentum climbed.

Until finally—

Boom.  

It all exploded.

In a sudden move, Anson stood up, tossing his drumsticks behind him. As the melody reached its peak, blue spotlights enveloped the four band members, crashing over the audience like a tidal wave.

Within three or five seconds, it engulfed the entire Staples Center.

And it detonated.

Brilliant, dazzling blue lights bloomed like fireworks, illuminating the venue as though it were midday.

Listen—Anson was singing.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

It was a roar, a call, a cry—a release of the soul.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

The entire audience rose to their feet.

No exceptions. Not a single one.

That energy buried deep within hearts finally broke free, unrestrained, bursting forth.

It was raw passion. It was unyielding hope. It was the dreams and innocence buried in the corners of every soul, ignited all at once.

Archie sang.

Gloria sang.

But this time, they weren’t alone. Even though the television audience couldn’t immediately join in due to the broadcast delay, it didn’t matter. Inside Staples Center, every guest joined them, souls ablaze, singing with all their might. Boundaries blurred, and everyone rediscovered the pure, unadulterated essence of themselves.

They sang. They danced. They reveled.

The Staples Center became a sea of flames.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh.”

Again and again, voices soared with all their strength.

This was a celebration.

Taking a step forward, Anson stood at the front of the stage, raising his right hand high. Like a rabbit, he bounced in place, carefree and joyous.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh.”

No one in the audience was left out. After a brief moment of chaos, everyone found the rhythm under Anson’s guidance. They shed their inhibitions, abandoned their pride, and reveled without restraint.

This was the magic of music.

Miles laughed. Connor and Lily laughed too. The instruments in their hands gleamed like treasures, radiating light. Like streams converging under moonlight, the music flowed, transforming into a surging tide that seemed to spin the entire universe in their hands.

Then, Anson sang again.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

“Listen to Jerusalem’s bells ringing, the Roman cavalry choirs singing, my mirror, my sword, and shield, my missionaries in a foreign field.”

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

“For some reason I can’t explain, once you’ve gone there was never, never an honest word, and that was when I ruled the world.”

Unbelievable. Incredible.

The legendary icons and rising stars of Staples Center became the fifth member of the August 31st band. Through their singing, they became instruments themselves, joining the performance while Anson let his soul flow freely through the music.

There were nods to The Beatles, Foo Fighters, Bruce Springsteen, Beyoncé, Christina Aguilera, Justin Timberlake, Madonna, Aerosmith, Black Eyed Peas, and Celine Dion.

The entire venue turned into a frenzy.

A moment for the history books!

This wasn’t just part of an awards show. It wasn’t even a concert anymore. It transcended both, returning to the essence of music itself and showcasing the true magic of performance.

No high-pitched theatrics. No dramatic emotional outbursts. When Anson finished singing, he snapped his fingers with his right hand. The entire lighting setup reversed, as though time itself was rewinding.

All the lights went out, leaving only the blue hue. The blue lights retreated, focusing back on the stage. Finally, only four blue spotlights remained, one for each band member.

It all happened in a flash. The lights reversed so quickly it left no time to react. The audience felt as though time had truly been rewound, leaving them stunned.

Without a word, the guests were once again overwhelmed by awe and shock.

Quietly, the collective singing of the crowd faltered. Their gazes followed the movement of the lights, circling back to the band. Open-mouthed and wide-eyed, they stared at the stage, thoughtlessly entranced.

Anson began to hum again, turning toward Lily.

The keyboard faded out; its light dimmed.

He turned to Connor.

The bass fell silent; its light extinguished.

Finally, he faced Miles.

The cello’s final notes lingered before fading away; its light vanished.

In the end, only a solitary blue spotlight remained, casting its glow over Anson.

Standing at the edge of time itself, he stood alone. No instruments. No accompaniment. Only his voice.

The purest, most primal music: the human voice.

Unconsciously, the venue fell silent.

Utter silence.

Thousands upon thousands of eyes focused on the lone figure in the spotlight, ears straining to hear.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

Anson’s soft humming was gentle and light, yet a faint trace of sorrow and bitterness lingered in his tone.

A realization dawned: people spend their lives chasing wealth, fame, power, and glory, only to find in the end that it’s all an illusion—intangible and weightless. Even a mark left in the annals of history is but a speck in the vast ocean of time.

The meaning of life? Only the individual holds the answer.

“Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh…”

The singing faded into humming. Inside Staples Center, only Anson’s voice remained. The audience looked up, mesmerized by the figure bathed in light—

As if in worship.

Yet Anson seemed oblivious, his radiant smile still intact.

“Hmmm, hmm, hmm…”

The performance ended.

Anson removed the microphone and extended his right hand, staring directly into the camera lens.

A smile bloomed fully across his face.

Without warning, he let the microphone fall.

Thud.  

The mic hit the ground, buzzing faintly. The sound resonated like a shockwave through the hearts of the audience, making their shoulders twitch. Before they could react, the lights went out completely.

The world plunged into nothingness.

No sound. No light. Absolute silence in utter darkness.

The performance… was it over?

Confused and disoriented, the audience glanced around, but in the pitch-black void, they couldn’t see each other’s expressions or movements. An unrelenting wave of astonishment and awe surged through their hearts, leaving them motionless and overwhelmed.

Then—boom!  

Applause erupted like a tidal wave, thunderous and unrestrained, sweeping across the venue.

*Note: “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1240: Chain Reaction

Finally!

Finally, the thoughts returned, yet the raging emotions in the mind found no outlet. Amidst the overwhelming shock, an instinctual reaction emerged—an unconscious clapping of hands, a desperate attempt to release the overflowing energy.

Clap, clap, clap, clap.  

Thunderous applause erupted, accelerating from zero to full throttle in just a second, reaching its zenith and exploding across the venue.

At that moment, the lights of the Staples Center flickered on—

The stage was empty.

No Anson, no Miles, Lily, or Connor. Not even the instruments remained.

It took a delayed moment for the audience to realize what had happened. The stage lighting had shifted focus to the secondary stage, redirecting everyone’s attention from the main stage—a fundamental yet effective rule of live television production.

But their stunned minds failed to grasp this immediately.

Even after turning back to the main stage, they saw the same thing—the band had vanished. If not for the lingering echoes of music, one might have believed that nothing had just occurred, as if it had all been a dream.

So… was it a dream?

What exactly had they just witnessed? What had they just experienced?

Dreamlike and surreal, they hovered in midair, unable to find balance or grounding. Lost in a haze between waking and dreaming, their hearts swelled with a strange mixture of passion and awe, magic and exhilaration. Yet, words eluded them. Stunned and overwhelmed, they could only clap.

Using the simplest, rawest, yet most honest expression, they poured out the emotions surging from the depths of their souls.

At some point, they had forgotten the essence and purpose of music. Lost in the dazzling illusions of fame and fortune, they drifted like empty shells, basking in applause and cheers, convinced they stood atop the world, yet haunted by questions:

Why was happiness becoming so elusive?

Why was joy growing increasingly scarce?

Why was desire becoming an unfillable void?

And why was music no longer a source of joy?

Until tonight. Until this moment.

Deep within the dust-covered corners of their hearts, something broke through the soil, dispelling the darkness and illuminating their world.

Then, they could no longer hold back.

Their passion surged higher and wilder.

Applause thundered on and on, reverberating across the arena. Even though August 31st had already left the stage, the clapping didn’t stop.

The audience rose to their feet in a collective ovation.

The roaring applause spread like a tidal wave, unrelenting and unstoppable.

---

Backstage, Anson staggered, completely drained. Every ounce of energy and spirit had been unleashed, leaving him utterly spent. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed, but the joy and exhilaration coursing through him were irreplaceable.

Turning around, he looked at his bandmates, arms wide open, and shouted joyfully, “We did it! Hey, guys, we did it!”

“Ahhh!”

They screamed like prairie dogs, Connor hugging each bandmate in a bear hug, ignoring Lily and Miles’s disdainful grimaces. But after his boisterous enthusiasm, Connor’s eyes suddenly reddened, and he stood in place, quietly wiping his tears like a lost child.

They laughed, cheered, and waved their arms with abandon. The unrestrained joy felt purer and more exhilarating than even winning a Grammy.

Everything was so simple.

Nearby, Higgins, ever vigilant, tried to remind the band to change outfits and return to the audience seats.

But the words caught in his throat.

Watching the scene unfold, Higgins felt a lump in his chest. His thoughts churned, but no words could articulate what he felt.

Then, Higgins saw Anson take a deep, deep breath. His trembling hands and knees betrayed his exhaustion.

So, Anson had been nervous too—carefully concealing it beneath his demeanor.

Even standing atop Hollywood’s pinnacle, holding two Grammy trophies tonight, Anson still felt nervous for a single performance.

Even after giving his all, Anson could collapse in exhaustion, release his emotions, and reveal his raw, unfiltered self.

Noticing Higgins’s gaze, Anson looked up.

Their eyes met.

“Shh,” Anson whispered, placing a finger on his lips, his smile radiant.

Higgins froze for a moment, then couldn’t help but smile back.

Before he could respond, a wave of noise erupted behind him.

Clap, clap, clap, clap.  

Turning around, he saw the dancers, backup singers, and crew members lining both sides of the hallway, applauding the band as they returned.

Those performances weren’t just for Archie; they spoke to everyone’s hearts.

Applause carried from the stage to backstage.

Connor couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears streamed down his face as he turned away, hiding behind his hands.

But Anson didn’t hesitate. With arms outstretched, he high-fived everyone lining the hallway as he ran, his energy radiating like a hurricane sweeping through, infecting everyone from the stage to the back.

Even Archie and Gloria weren’t spared.

They laughed, cried, and celebrated until they were utterly spent, finally bursting into laughter at each other’s disheveled appearances.

Archie recalled what others had said: If you love a singer, you must attend their concert. Hearing their music live is an entirely different experience from a recording—an unforgettable sensation.  

He hadn’t understood or believed it.

After all, Archie was disabled and had never planned to attend a concert.

But now, Archie had a wish—a small wish.

He wanted to attend a concert. He wanted to feel the power of music in person.

And if it were an August 31st concert, it would be perfect.

He raised his head, gazing at the giant live broadcast screen, silently making his wish.

The applause roared on, fierce and unyielding, like waves crashing endlessly, lasting three minutes that felt like thirty years.

Finally, the applause began to fade, and the second half of the Grammy Awards resumed, with more performances and awards to come.

But then—another wave erupted outside Staples Center.

This time, even Archie, with his impaired hearing, could feel the surge of energy. He turned toward the commotion.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

BOOM!  

The crescendo built again, exploding in unison.

Archie and Gloria simultaneously realized the cause, exclaiming in unison, “Delay!”

The delay in CBS’s live broadcast meant that viewers at home were just now experiencing the shockwaves, joining the frenzy late.

The sound waves rolled in from across North America. One eruption after another built momentum, ultimately converging and cascading upon the Staples Center, consuming it in relentless waves of energy.

The roar, the passion, the electricity—it was unstoppable.

(Chapter Ends)