The sound outside Vale Studio didn't feel like ordinary noise anymore.
It felt like the city's heartbeat.
Voices layered over one another—chants, shouts, reporters barking into microphones, camera shutters clicking like frantic wings. The closer Lian walked toward the glass doors, the heavier the air grew. Every step felt like it carried the weight of a thousand eyes.
Rian's presence stayed behind him like a shield—silent, watchful, simmering.
Jun moved ahead to talk to security, but Lian barely noticed. His pulse was too loud in his ears.
The guards opened the studio's double doors, and the moment they cracked open—
A wall of sound exploded.
"LIAN! WE'RE WITH YOU!"
"DON'T LET THEM SHUT YOU DOWN!"
"STAY STRONG!"
"WE LOVE MIDNIGHT REVERIE!"
Dozens of light sticks waved. Some fans were crying. Some were angry. Some were trembling with excitement.
And in the middle of the chaos stood his old manager.
Tall. Polished. Cold.
