"Alright. If I become a winner, I will be interviewed a lot, and I don't want that. My parents might even force me to go somewhere without headphones. But I don't want anyone to become suspicious that I gave up so suddenly."
Tristan nodded.
"This round of the contest wasn't the real final round. Just play at your worst for the next thing, and it will be alright. Then I will give you the money. Well?"
Angelo tilted his head.
"I can't tell when people are being dishonest. If you trick me, I will tell the public about this conversation, so you better not trick me. Even without proof, it can cause a scandal for you."
Tristan only grinned and offered his hand for a shake.
"I don't know what to think about you, but it's a deal."
Angelo didn't shake it.
"I don't like touching people."
Without another word, he went into a bathroom stall, leaving Tristan alone.
'What a weird man!' Tristan thought again and left the bathroom.
***
Half an hour later.
After a short break for judges to discuss the results, all contestants were invited to the stage again. Left and right, people were anxiously chewing their nails and lips, hoping and praying to achieve victory despite all odds.
Only Tristan felt and acted calm.
Although he didn't know what challenge he was about to face, he believed in his ability to rise up to it, no matter what it took.
And of course, there was also Angelo—still a stone statue.
All contestants stood in a line in front of the table with judges, who sat with mysterious expressions on their faces.
"Now, it's time to announce the winners of... semi-finals! Yes, you heard it right. This year, the Californian Young Star Contest has an extra surprise round!" the host exclaimed from his place to the side.
The room Tristan was brought into looked like a side-lounge, except someone brought his guitar here and set it up with an amplifier. A staff member sat near a door, making sure no one was cheating.
To Tristan's delight, the contestants were allowed to take snacks from the waiting room into their isolation. The contest began in the morning and now went way past lunch.
Tristan sat on a couch, nibbled on a candy bar, and thought about his song.
Sketching something in half an hour wasn't a problem. He had 1234 songwriting points—he could just improvise!
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'But I want to sweep the TV viewers from their feet when the recording of the contest airs. I better go overboard!'
He pressed some buttons on his status panel.
[Ding!]
[Songwriting skill increased from 1234 to 1724.]
And Tristan still had 540 Pop-star Points left.
'That's better. So, Christmas?.. Heh, a Christmas carol in a rock genre sounds like fun.'
He began strumming the strings, sketching a melody and improvising basic lyrics, when the door to the room flew open and a man stepped inside.
Startled, Tristan plucked a string wrong, making it make an ear-grating, sharp noise.
"Who are you? Wha—Mmf!"
In the brief moment Tristan spent to turn toward the door, the man grabbed the attendant and pressed a chemical-smelling cloth to his nose.
A second later, the attendant became limp, put to sleep by the chemical.
And at the same time, Tristan himself was limp with absolute shock and alarm!
The shock made Tristan so slow to react that when he saw the man drop the attendant and pull out a gun with a silencer instead, he barely felt his 'Bullet Time' talent activating.
Because the man in an American dad's clothing and a baseball hat who pointed a gun at Tristan was Hugo Martinez.