The Road to Glory Chapter 194 - Someone You Can Trust

“Good morning.”

Today, Halo met with BB earlier than usual.

It seemed they needed a bit more time to finish the remaining story, and BB agreed.

And so, the story of ‘Halo from Another World’ was reaching its end.

A black bike races down a dark straight road.

The speedometer had long passed 200, but the ‘young man’ kept increasing his speed.

He didn’t know what was ahead.

All he could see was the asphalt illuminated by the bike’s headlight.

A cargo truck might be coming from far away, or a wild animal might suddenly jump out.

But the young man didn’t care.

He surrendered his entire body to the thrill of defying gravity and crossing the world.

It was the young man’s newfound hobby.

“You might die doing that.”

Said the guitarist who was active as his session musician.

“Wouldn’t that be cool?”

The guitarist snorted, but the young man paid no attention and downed a cocktail with a cherry on top.

“I wonder why I only discovered how fun this is now.”

“Yeah, if you’d known earlier, we probably would have never met.”

The young man chuckled at the implication that he would have definitely died. Just then, a phone rang. The young man seemed uninterested in answering as he was drinking, so the guitarist answered instead.

[Halo!]

He knew who it was as soon as he heard the voice.

The supermodel at the peak of popularity in this era, and the young man’s current girlfriend.

That is, probably. If they hadn’t broken up yet.

The young man who took the phone leaned against the wall. Though it didn’t seem like a serious conversation, his frowning face as he focused on the call looked like a scene from a photo shoot.

The looks that had been called beautiful since his teenage debut remained unchanged. Even Halo’s haters would be mesmerized if they saw him in person. While some people went through puberty and changed for the worse, at this rate, this bastard would probably still be in his prime even in his 40s or 50s. That is, if he didn’t die before then.

Such looks, and that kind of music.

The guitarist, who had participated as a session musician from HALO’s 7th to 9th album “Speed of Earth,” thought he was truly an unlucky bastard.

A life lacking nothing.

Arrogant, but even that was digested like a movie protagonist with charming appearance.

Ridiculous musical talent and voice.

He probably even came from a good family.

Though he said he had suffered a bit after running away from home due to family opposition, that was all.

How much could he have suffered with that face?

Those who know, know that the young man attended a public school.

Aren’t his school photos being traded at ridiculous prices, and his stories circulating around?

The guitarist spat out a peanut.

Since getting to know the young man, how much had his self-esteem been crushed? The sprouted inferiority complex extended its stems and bloomed leaves.

However, he couldn’t show it outwardly.

That guy was someone who had even thrown away his boss who had raised him like a father, saying he no longer needed him. Even if the boss had many corrupt practices, abandoning a benefactor who raised you from obscurity wasn’t something a normal person would do.

If he carelessly showed it, he might be buried without leaving even bones. It would be ideal for both parties to go along with it moderately and extract the honey.

“Did the call go well?”

“Well.”

“You don’t look happy. Did you fight again?”

“Should we call this a fight?”

The young man returned and drank his glass.

As he sat back leaning on the back seat, deep shadows drew on his cheeks. Like someone with deep darkness.

The one who stands in the brightest place.

The guitarist felt like his stomach was turning, but he endured it while cracking peanuts.

“What happened?”

“Same problem.”

“Same problem? Ah… Don’t tell me. Just go along with it like I told you.”

A lover who keeps asking him to sing love songs for her.

The guitarist thought the supermodel wanting proof of love was cute, but the pampered young master didn’t seem to think so.

“Why should I?”

“Making a song is like eating cold soup for you.”

The young man really made songs easily.

He’d make songs even with strange topics saying it was fun,

Get inspiration while practicing guitar. Sometimes he’d even hum new songs while drinking together.

The guitarist was surprised, admired, and finally envied seeing that ridiculous talent.

The fact that songs he made over several months weren’t even at the level of practice pieces in front of the young man.

“I’m not feeling it.”

Even though he could instantly create love songs.

Even though he was good at singing them passionately.

“What, not confident?”

The young man smirked at the guitarist’s words.

As if asking ‘Me?’

Right, the guitarist was just saying it too.

The young man had never once struggled with music.

Though his expression was unlikeable, even that was sophisticated and cool, making the guitarist unable to hold back and shot down his scotch.

That day was like that too.

The young man held a house party as usual, and his session musicians drank in a separate room.

Though the young man hadn’t confined them, the people he invited ignored the session musicians, and the young man didn’t particularly care.

They drank casually.

Through the slightly open door, the young man was surrounded by similarly glamorous people, smiling brightly.

It was also familiar to see women with partners staring blankly at the young man.

“Looks like they broke up in the end.”

The keyboardist shrugged at the guitarist’s words.

“What’s new?”

“Even the tabloids don’t report on who Halo’s girlfriend is anymore. I guess they’re tired of writing the same articles.”

“Is that why we don’t report it either?”

The atmosphere stiffened at the drummer’s question.

The thing that changed as frequently as the young man’s lovers was his session musicians.

Even the tabloids that loved Halo never attempted to interview when session musicians changed once or twice.

Most gave interviews filled with negative emotions, saying he was generally arrogant, rude, and impulsive. That he was picky when recording his albums but conversely showed no interest in and ignored the session musicians’ music.

Yet the reason they worked as session musicians for several albums was unified.

The salary including incentives based on album sales was high, and he didn’t care at all about personal activities outside of schedules.

Like tabloids that loved Halo, they asked if there were ever delayed payments or unfair treatment (like violence), but there was never a single such case.

As the young man’s image as an employer remained unchanged, the tabloids started reducing stories about session musicians.

And so, the current session musicians were never mentioned once.

Though they didn’t like being consumed as Halo’s controversial elements, they couldn’t welcome becoming beings that anyone could replace either.

After all, hadn’t they aimed to gain attention and money while working as Halo’s session musicians?

“This won’t do.”

The keyboardist, whose face was red from alcohol, stood up from his seat. He fumbled around and pulled something out of his bag.

“It’s useless.”

“He won’t properly look at it anyway. Look, the young master is busy.”

Though the drummer and guitarist tried to stop him, the keyboardist pushed them aside and left the room.

What he held was the score of music he had composed while getting inspiration during his time as Halo’s session musician. Though it was still messy with no lyrics and lots of scribbles, the keyboardist intended to get Halo’s feedback. Thus, if his name could be listed on Halo’s album, he would become a very special existence.

“Halo.”

When he called the young man, the people around him looked him up and down. ‘Who’s this guy I’ve never seen?’ ‘He invites people like this too?’ Though he felt shame at their dismissive gazes, the keyboardist endured and called Halo.

“Can you spare a moment?”

“Is it urgent?”

“…Yeah.”

Though it might be nothing to you, it’s important to me. The keyboardist swallowed these long words and glared at the young man.

Then the young man obediently followed him.

“What is it?”

They didn’t go far.

At the end of the corridor where people’s gazes followed.

The keyboardist showed his notebook to the young man.

“This is, well,”

The young man received it and looked at it seriously.

The keyboardist thought it might be difficult to understand from a viewer’s perspective and tried to explain it.

Even if it was Halo, he needed to hear why he composed this part this way.

“The reason I did it this way-“

“Is this all?”

“!”

While he was stumbling through his explanation drunk, the young man cut off his words.

He looked somehow tired.

Annoyance showed in his hands as he flipped through the notebook.

The keyboardist felt offended by how carelessly his notebook was being handled, but for now, he nodded.

Then that one statement was heard.

“It’s mediocre.”

“…What?”

“I said it’s mediocre.”

The young man held the notebook up to the keyboardist’s face.

He even carefully pointed out what aspects were mediocre.

The advice held no persuasiveness for the keyboardist.

It just seemed like nitpicking. And well.

“No, you didn’t even properly look-“

The young man had only looked at the notebook for a few seconds.

It was too short a time to fully grasp the music that contained the keyboardist’s life.

“You called me just for this?”

The keyboardist gritted his teeth at the young man’s words.

The arrogance of asking if he was called just for this cut to the bone.

Though he felt bad, the keyboardist knew this was the end if he gave up here.

Why am I doing session work?

The keyboardist hurriedly grabbed the young man.

“Even if it’s mediocre, you could make it work.”

Right, his music might be a bit lacking.

But if Halo touched it up a bit, and then sang it, it would be successful.

Wasn’t Halo the person who made even the difficult 3rd and 4th albums successful?

Even if opinions were divided, looking at the results, it was successful.

The keyboardist’s goal was exactly that – HALO’s 3rd and 4th albums. He didn’t even hope for more than that.

Then the young man tilted his head.

With a face that didn’t seem to understand how desperate the keyboardist was.

Without understanding anything.

“Why should I sing it?”

Ah. Hope shattered.

The young man had no intention at all of performing the keyboardist’s music.

He was someone who would only do his own music, even if someone made much better music.

Or, though it didn’t seem to have happened yet, he might steal songs like other singers.

The young man in front of him was that kind of person.

The keyboardist lowered his head.

His hands trembled with despair and hatred.

The drummer and guitarist who came out of the room comforted him saying “We told you it would be useless,” but he shook them off.

He suddenly raised his head and shouted at Halo who had already returned to his place.

“Only your music matters to you, right?”

People’s gazes gathered.

In a situation that could be awkward, Halo remained calm.

“When did I ever say that?”

It’s a world where everyone only loves the young man.

There, only the keyboardist became a fool, became an idiot.

Even now, aren’t everyone’s gazes saying ‘What’s wrong with him?’

“When have you ever properly listened to the music we made? You always just sneered saying it was trash.”

“I said it was mediocre because it was mediocre. Are you telling me to sing your trash practice piece?”

“Only you! Only you think that way! People’s reactions could be different!”

“They won’t be. And you asked me to be honest.”

Even though he received such divided reviews for his 3rd and 4th albums, like a frog not knowing its tadpole days, the young man didn’t understand the keyboardist.

“I didn’t think that in your eyes, all music except yours would look like trash.”

“Me?”

Huh? The young man gestured innocently, then soon smirked.

“Don’t talk like your trash song represents all music.”

Something seemed to burst.

The keyboardist ran out with a reddened face, and the drummer and guitarist also packed their things and left with resentful faces.

As the young man quietly watched them leave, the people beside him whispered.

“Don’t mind it.”

“You can just find new session musicians. Should I introduce some?”

“This is why you need to be selective about who you associate with. It’s your fault. Bugs are drawn to you because you’re too charming.”

His head hurt.

The young man frowned.

People around him pressed drinks into his hands and stroked his head.

Behind those who comforted in small voices, numerous dry gazes were directed at the young man.

They probably thought it wouldn’t be heard.

They talked about what just happened a few steps behind.

“See, I told you it wouldn’t last long.”

“Lost again. Really, there’s never a quiet day. But why do these things always happen to him?”

“Do you really not know?”

Voices and laughter of different pitches became noise invading his ears.

The young man drank several shots in succession then slammed his glass down.

“Party’s over. Thanks everyone for coming, now get out of my house.”

The person who found the young man left alone in his house came 4 hours later.

“Please, Halo, please can’t you kill that personality? There’s no one left who’ll be your session musician now. If you’re not going to bring just anyone, then at a moderate level-. Hm?”

It was James, who had been his manager since his previous label.

He was also the person who stayed with him until the end.

James, who looked a bit younger than his memory, furrowed his brow.

“You’ll find some anyway.”

When the young man leaned back on the sofa and laughed, the man screamed “Aack!”

The young man knew well that he would find some despite this.

“I shouldn’t have followed you.”

“You work hard. Haha.”

“When I save enough money to use for life, I should quit.”

“Hadn’t you already saved that much?”

A new label with only the young man.

In the label where the young man sat as CEO, the one actually doing the work was James.

“Does it make sense for me to get white hair at age 30?”

“That’s good. How about dyeing it all white?”

James screamed “Aaack!” again at the casual reply.

“So what’s up?”

After chatting for a while, the young man opened his mouth.

James wasn’t the type to enjoy small talk, but today his tongue was unusually long.

Just like someone who has something to hide.

“It won’t be about schedules.”

After leaving the existing label, the young man had almost cleared his schedule.

“It definitely won’t be about whining that session musicians are difficult. What’s up, James?”

What could have dragged out this guy with a heavy bottom all the way to his house.

James hesitated.

He looked at his reaction and couldn’t continue speaking.

The more he did so, the narrower the young man’s eyes became.

“Hey, Halo.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen without getting angry.”

“…What is it?”

“Should we first promise not to get angry?”

It looked like two adult men were about to link pinkies.

As the young man snorted and crossed his arms, James let out a deep sigh.

“Halo, you see.”

“If you drag it out one more time I’m kicking you out.”

“Have you thought about reconciling with your family?”

The young man’s face hardened instantly.