Ethan's eyes widened. $300M? StarPulse was a media giant—movies, music, streaming. Becoming its president and owning a third? That was his biggest reward yet, dwarfing the $27M Cashback Card (Chapter 20). "Game's not playing," he muttered, pocketing his phone. No way he was backing down.
Mia smiled. "What's your name, Lucky Star?" "Ethan Black." "Got a talent, Ethan? Sing? Dance? Or, y'know, say no and save us all," Mia teased, winking at the crowd. Preston's script assumed Ethan would choke.
"I play piano," Ethan said calmly. He'd bought Master-Level Piano Skills for $0.80 (Chapter 19)—might as well flex.
Mia blinked. Piano? That wasn't in Preston's intel, which pegged Ethan as talentless. Backstage, Preston's jaw tightened. "Since when does this guy play piano?" he hissed.
"Bet he's bluffing," a lackey whispered. "Hope so," Preston growled, but doubt crept in.
Mia recovered fast—she'd hosted enough galas to roll with surprises. "Piano, huh? Sounds chill. But we've already had a solo piano act. How about something spicier… like a four-hand duet?" The crowd gasped. Four-hand duets were next-level—two players, one piano, insane coordination. Think Chopin meets synchronized swimming.
Ethan shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
The crowd buzzed. This guy's got guts. Preston, however, saw an opening. He slipped into the audience, ready to pounce. A piano prodigy since childhood (all to impress girls), Preston had mastered four-hand duets for clout. If Ethan was dumb enough to try, Preston would "volunteer," outshine him, and win Sophia's heart. Checkmate, Black.
Mia scanned the crowd. "Anyone play piano and wanna join Ethan for a duet? Come on, don't leave him hanging!" Silence. Four-hand duets were rare—most students couldn't even play "Twinkle Twinkle" without a YouTube tutorial. Preston smirked, ready to raise his hand and steal the show.
Then, a voice cut through: "I'll play with Ethan."
The auditorium froze. Heads whipped around. Standing in the back, cool as ever, was Sophia Winters. The Ice Queen herself, in a sleek black dress, striding toward the stage like she owned it.
Preston choked. Sophia?! His plan imploded. Mia gaped, stammering, "Uh, Sophia Winters, everyone!" The crowd lost it—cheers, whistles, phones out recording. Ethan raised a brow, pleasantly shocked. Sophia, joining him? This was better than any $300M reward.
Backstage, Preston's lackeys whispered, "Didn't you say she'd watch him fail?" "She's ruining everything!" Preston hissed, his face redder than a bad sunburn.
Sophia reached the stage, her expression calm but her eyes locked on Ethan. Truth was, she hadn't planned this. Four-hand duets were tough—she'd played piano since she was six but rarely tried them. But seeing Ethan alone, with no one stepping up, hit her. He'd carried her to safety (Chapter 16), shaved minutes off her hospital run (Chapter 17). She owed him. Plus, the crowd's silence left him exposed, and Sophia wasn't about to let him twist.
"Ready?" Ethan asked, a playful glint in his eye. "Let's not embarrass ourselves," Sophia replied, a rare smirk breaking her icy facade.
Mia, recovering, hyped the crowd. "Ethan Black and Sophia Winters, performing the iconic four-hand duet Butterfly Lovers! Give it up!" The crowd roared—half for the music, half for the gossip. Ethan and Sophia, together again?
A grand piano rolled out. Ethan and Sophia sat side-by-side, shoulders brushing, fingers poised. Preston, in the audience, seethed. "If he screws this up, Sophia's done with him," he muttered, praying Ethan's "general" piano skills (he'd said "general," right?) would tank.
The first notes of Butterfly Lovers rang out—haunting, intricate, a Chinese classic reimagined as a duet. The crowd fell silent, mesmerized. Ethan and Sophia moved in perfect sync, their fingers dancing across the keys like they'd rehearsed for years. The melody soared, evoking star-crossed lovers, and for a moment, Ethan and Sophia were those lovers—lang talent, nu appearance, a match made in Westfield's wildest dreams.
The audience was shook. "This is a freshman gala, not Carnegie Hall!" a guy whispered. Single folks groaned—Why does this feel like a rom-com? The X feed exploded: "Ethan + Sophia = OTP!" Posts hit 20K likes mid-performance.
Preston's jaw dropped. Ethan's playing wasn't "general"—it was world-class, rivaling Grammy-winning pianists. Sophia matched him note for note, their chemistry electric. "This is my fault," Preston wailed internally. His "four-hand" trap, meant to humiliate Ethan, had backfired spectacularly. He'd handed Ethan a stage to shine and cozy up to Sophia. If he'd known Sophia would step up, he'd have rigged the spotlight for anyone else.
As the final notes faded, the auditorium erupted—standing ovation, screams, even a few tears. Ethan and Sophia stood, exchanging a look that said, We nailed it. Mia rushed over, mic shaking. "That was… unreal! Ethan, Sophia, you're legends!"
Ethan's phone pinged:
[Challenge Completed]
[Reward: President of StarPulse Entertainment + 30% Ownership ($300M)]
[Next Suggested Item: Global Trade Network, $250.00]
[Warning: Reality's Cracking. Eyes on You.]
Ethan glanced at the crowd. Among the cheers, a familiar black SUV idled outside, its tinted windows glinting under Westfield's streetlights. Preston's flop was the least of his worries—someone bigger was watching, and they weren't here for the music.