I have a perfect candidate

In the early morning, sunlight squeezed in through the gaps in the thick curtains, and the beams of light refracted several times on the mirrors in the bedroom, forming a rainbow-like shadow that playfully climbed onto Jonathan's face and hair.

The phone rang and stopped, and Jonathan's eyelashes fluttered like dew-dampened butterfly wings, as if they were carrying a thousand pounds of weight, struggling for a long time before finally opening halfway.

Her serpentine arms groped aimlessly across the silky blankets, finally finding the culprit disturbing her sleep under the pillow on the other side.

"J, Moringa, are you awake?" Vasin's voice came muffled through the fluffy pillow.

Hearing Wasin's deep, rough voice, Jonathan disgustedly grabbed his phone and threw it at the foot of the bed, then closed his eyes and curled up under the covers.

"Miss Lan, I'll be waiting for you. Go to Tang today. I'll be underground."

Jonah stretched out her forearm and folded a corner of the blanket to let in some air, then said in a lazy tone, not caring whether Vasin could hear her, "Why is Tang Lan waiting for me? I'm not sleepwalking..."

Not only did he not sleepwalk, he slept very soundly and didn't even have a dream.

"So you just couldn't remember him before, and now you can't even dream about him anymore?"

Jonathan threw off the covers completely, rolled around on the bed, and stared blankly at himself as he tried to catch a rainbow with his bare hands in the mirror on the ceiling.

Seeing the half-circle of red marks on his left wrist, he stretched out his right hand and pressed his wrists together, forming a closed loop.

Another person's face appeared in his mind. He ran his fingers over the skin of his neck and chest for a moment, then sat up as if wiping away the drowsiness of waking up. He turned and frantically searched under the pillow, under the covers, and in the cracks of the bed.

"Wasin?!" Jonas shouted as he rolled out of bed, "How did I get back yesterday?!"

"I'll carry you upstairs... I'm sorry, I'll leave soon after you fall asleep."

Before his limbs were fully awake, one foot slammed into the edge of the bed. Jonathan cried out "F*ck!" and crouched down, clutching his foot.

After regaining my composure, I looked up and saw a silver halo shimmering with starlight.

Jonah wiped the saline solution from his eyes haphazardly, crawled on his knees to the half-human-sized Sassim statue floor lamp placed at the head of the bed, the fallen angel who governed desires burying his face deep in his wings to maintain the kneeling position, his hands raised upwards—

He was holding the platinum necklace that he had worn for many years.

Jonathan moved the necklace to his palm, pressed it tightly against his heart, and kissed it with relief. He then noticed a small letter, J, on the clasp's stamp.

"Where did you put my clothes?" Jonathan climbed to the foot of the bed and picked up his phone.

“Fold it neatly, it’s in the dressing room,” Vasin replied.

Jonathan jogged to the dressing room, picked up the trousers he had worn yesterday from the velvet bench, shook them open, pulled a voice recorder from the pocket, gripped it, and then strode toward the music studio converted from a guest room.

After connecting the noise-canceling headphones via Bluetooth, Jonathan took a deep breath and pressed the play button on the recorder.

After a long while, Jonah finally let out a long breath.

“He isn’t either.” Jonathan stood up and tossed the recorder onto the table full of mixing equipment. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Jonathan called Wasin back and asked, "Are the Star contestants reporting to TANG this afternoon?"

"Demolish. (Yes)"

"Have you been in the underground parking garage the whole time?"

"……dismantle."

Tell Tang Lan I'll be there soon.

-

In the practice room on the first floor of TANG, Kang Song-yoon stood in front of the long table set up for the judges during the auditions, dragging his suitcase, lost in thought.

"You are 'Jiang Songyun'?"

The people sitting behind the judges' panel have become staff members responsible for checking in the shortlisted contestants, one in English and one in Chinese.

When the staff member in charge of the porcelain presentation noticed that the contestant at the table hadn't answered the question, they asked again: "You are contestant 'Jiang Songyun,' right?"

"Oh, yes, that's me." Jiang Songyun quickly replied, snapping out of her daze.

“Although the age limit for participating in the Star Show is the legal age in Manel, which is 16 years and older,” the staff member said, flipping through contestant information with one hand and tapping a stack of room keys on the table with the other, “you are a citizen of China, 17 years old this year, and still a minor…”

Jiang Songyun packed his luggage and barely slept all night. He also secretly took his passport and room key from his brother's room and came alone. Slow-witted and feeling guilty, he was momentarily stunned and didn't wait for the staff to finish speaking before blushing and defending himself: "I will be 18 years old in two months. If you don't believe me, look at my birthday information. Here, it's February 7, 2008!"

Seeing Jiang Songyun's overreaction, the staff member was taken aback at first, then gently explained, "Don't be nervous, I think you've misunderstood. What I meant was that the guardians of underage athletes can apply for a double suite as accompanying persons. Do you need one?"

Jiang Songyun's blush faded, and driven by a desire to prove himself as an independent adult, he concealed the truth and made a decision on his own: "No need, just arrange a single room for me."

Fearing the staff wouldn't believe him, he slammed his and Jiang Songhe's passports on the table with conviction, adding, "My brother's a germaphobe; he's not used to staying in double suites and doesn't like changing rooms. Oh, but he'll be there for the whole competition..."

The staff member smiled, unsuspecting, and handed Jiang Songyun a single room key, then winked mysteriously, "You can wait in the rest area for a while; you might get a surprise!"

Jiang Songyun didn't quite understand the subtext of the words, but he still did as he was told. He waited obediently in the rest area after leaving the house, just as polite and well-behaved he had been for twelve years when he was a child star.

As the staff watched Jiang Songyun leave, their tone shifted from doting to infatuated, exclaiming, "Janus is so good to his fans~~~"

-

Enclosed by soundproof walls, this small cubicle is like a gentle womb, a place where Jonathan feels safe.

Jonathan put on his headphones, took off his boots and socks, and stood barefoot in front of the microphone. The soft earmuffs blocked out all distractions, and he could only hear the accompaniment music and his own singing.

He was like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, his limbs stretching and moving in rhythm with the melody, and the words that came out of his mouth seemed to come alive, playfully chasing and leaping with the notes.

He indulged in this, freely venting his obsession with, boasting about, pity for, suspicion of, hatred of, and anxiety about his talent...

His voice is his lurking shadow lover, his neglected rival, and his inseparable, frosty blade.

Inside the control room outside the vacuum glass, the arranger excitedly operated the mixing console in a timely manner to ensure that Jonas's timbre was brought out to the maximum extent.

When Jonathan met Tang Lan in the morning, he repeatedly claimed that he had slept very well last night, but the fourth young lady of the Tang family just wouldn't believe him. Jonathan called in Vasin and threatened him with a fake smile to make him prove it for him. Only then did Tang Lan let him go to the TANG recording studio.

After spending the afternoon in the recording studio, Jonathan's vocal cords were exhausted and his emotions were depleted. He finally emerged from his claustrophobia to receive the arranger's praise, but he couldn't feel happy.

"Janus Janus Janus, my king of legend! You always bring me indescribable surprises every time we collaborate! I can already foresee your name topping the Killboard, once again!"

“Killboard isn’t the goal.” Jonathan was unimpressed and continued to review the situation. “I always felt that the part about ‘if the world ends, I’d rather die by your hand’ was missing something.”

"Oh? Does that mean my part?" The arranger was also confused and quickly sat down in front of the sound console to scan the tracks stacked like blinds.

“No, arrangement and vocals complement each other. If either part is missing, it will affect everything else.” Jonathan patted the arranger on the shoulder. “This song is like a blueprint right now, but it’s missing a piece that illuminates the path. I hope we can find it together.”

"I understand. Now tell me how you feel." The arranger was moved and leaned forward, ready to listen attentively.

“When I was writing, I imagined myself as a knight who sacrificed the human heart to awaken my lover, thus becoming a demon. My lover woke up, but he hated and feared me. I hated him briefly and wanted to take him down with me, but after the hatred came endless love. In the beginning, I just wanted him to live well…” Jonathan recalled the story with great focus, his expression changing with the scene.

The arranger, following Jonah's emotional journey, had already grasped the essence of the story. He suggested with great enthusiasm, "Well, I think the feeling I'm missing is first the rage of a demonic instinct, then the resolute determination after the struggle... The electric guitar's scream is already there, what do you think about adding a drum solo to simulate a chaotic heartbeat?"

“Ding Ding Ding! (Great idea!)” Jonathan snapped his fingers approvingly. “Why don’t we get started right away and give it a try?”

"Electronic sound effects are nowhere near as impressive as live sound recording. Give me half a day, and I'll call a friend over right now."

“I have an excellent candidate, it won’t take half a day.”