Two days.
That was all it took for the world to turn upside down.
Two days for Lian's name to become a war cry, a headline, a symbol.
Two days for Vale Studio to go from a forgotten building in an old district to a pilgrimage site for everyone who believed that music could still mean something.
Two days since the company suspended him.
Two days since the storm.
Two days since Rian sat across from him in that dim studio, playing a melody that felt like a lifeline.
And now—
The city didn't sound the same.
It hummed.
Vibrated.
Waited.
Lian felt it the moment he stepped out of the taxi. The air was thicker, the sky sharper, the streets humming faintly with bass lines from open cafés and idling cars — all playing Midnight Reverie, as if the city itself had memorized the song.
He tightened the hood of his sweatshirt and stood before Vale Studio.
What used to be a quiet alley was now a river of people.
Fans.
Reporters.
Influencers with ring lights.
