As Dev's performance ended, a tense silence fell over the room. Before the Master of Ceremony could return to the stage, Gerald Sinclair leapt to his feet, his face contorted with disgust.
"What utter garbage!" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
"What was that crap? A sniveling boy whining about his daddy issues?"
Gerald's eyes blazed with contempt as he continued his tirade.
"Hip-hop? Rap? I almost fell asleep… BORING!, just like this pathetic excuse for an artist."
He gestured dismissively towards Dev, who stood frozen on stage, shock evident on his face.
"This genre is a blight on the music industry," Gerald snarled.
"It's for thugs and degenerates, not true artists. And this... this boy... is as talentless as it can get."
Just as Gerald opened his mouth to continue his vicious assault, Headmaster Alaric's voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"I thought that was rather heartfelt and interesting," Alaric said, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of authority that silenced Gerald instantly.
Director Annabelle nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful.
"While it's not a suitable song for a competitive stage," she said, her voice measured,
"I must admit I admire the song form poetry. It's quite raw and authentic."
Dev nodded, his face a mixture of humility and determination.
"Thank you for your kind words, Headmaster and Director Annabelle. I know I'm not yet good enough but I will be one day. Someone taught me that there was so much more to the trashy and vulgar hip-hop we know today. This stage was just an audition to me."
The Master of Ceremony, caught off guard, stepped back onto the stage.
"Oh, audition? Audition for whom?"
A mysterious smile played on Dev's lips as he replied,
"You'll see."
Without another word, he bowed to the judges, the audience and walked off stage, leaving a bewildered audience in his wake.
"Wait, Mr. Sinclair!" the Master of Ceremony called after him, but Dev didn't even glance back, disappearing behind the curtain.
Gerald scoffed, his face twisted with disdain.
"Let that mutt go. The results are obvious."
The Master of Ceremony coughed awkwardly, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Well, then... let the voting begin!"
As if on cue, the three judges and five music experts held up signs bearing the Sinclair Records logo, their decision unanimous and swift.
Brandon watched intently from the green room as two holographic bars materialized on the stage.
One appeared beside the smug Jong-Kook, while the other stood where Devon should have been if he hadn't left. The bar next to Jong-Kook rapidly filled, climbing past the 80% mark. In stark contrast, Devon's bar barely reached 20% before stopping.
Suddenly, the green room door burst open. Devon rushed in, his usual bravado replaced by an uncharacteristic nervousness.
"Yo, B! How'd I do out there?" Devon asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Brandon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
"The emotion was there, Dev. But the beat... it needs work. And your rhyme scheme? Too simple. You've got to step it up, remember you're a rapper not a poet."
Devon's shoulders slumped slightly, but determination flashed in his eyes.
"I know I ain't there yet, but I'm gonna be. This rap thing... it's what I want, man. For real."
He took a deep breath, then looked Brandon straight in the eye.
"Listen, B. I need this. I want you to sign me. Give me a chance, and I swear I'll work harder than anyone you've ever seen."
The sincerity in Devon's voice was palpable, a far cry from his usual cocky demeanor. Brandon studied him for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"We'll discuss this after the gala, Dev," Brandon said with a nod.
Just as Devon was about to thank Brandon, a knock on the door interrupted them. Elise entered, carrying a bag in her hands, her face flushed with excitement.
"Glad I made it in time," she said, slightly out of breath.
Dev's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Big sis? What'cha doing here?"
Elise raised the bag and smiled at Brandon, her eyes twinkling.
"I've got your... as you put it... ice."
Dev looked between them, curiosity etched on his face.
"Ice? What ice?"
Without a word, Elise reached into the bag and pulled out classy suede jewelry boxes. Each bore an intricate crown logo - Regalia Couture's signature. She laid them out carefully on the dresser.
Brandon approached the dresser, his eyes widening slightly.
He reached out and opened the first box, revealing a set of diamond-encrusted grills that sparkled under the room's lights.
In the next box, a hefty Cuban chain gleamed, its links heavy with baguette cut diamonds.
The third box contained a pendant with the number "13" rendered in diamonds, catching the light with every slight movement.
Dev let out a low whistle, his eyes darting between the jewelry and Brandon's face.
"Damn, B," Dev muttered, clearly impressed.
"What's all this bling for?"
Brandon smirked, "You'll see"
Brandon's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the exquisite jewelry laid out before him. He turned to Elise, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
"Elise, you've outdone yourself," he said, his voice filled with awe and gratitude.
"I can't believe you managed to get these done so quickly."
Elise beamed, her cheeks flushing slightly at his praise.
"Well, when you have the best artisans in the world at your disposal, anything's possible," she replied with a hint of pride.
"Plus, I may have pulled a few all-nighters to make sure they were ready in time."
Brandon's expression softened.
"You didn't have to do that," he said, reaching out to gently touch her arm.
"I wanted to," Elise insisted and whispered. "This is important to you, and... well, you're important to me."
A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before Elise spoke again.
"Here, let me help you put them on," she offered, stepping closer and reaching for the grill box.
Brandon caught her hand, shaking his head slightly.
"I want to save these for the finals," he said. "Make a real statement when it counts the most."
Elise nodded, understanding in her eyes.
Elise suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, catching Brandon off guard.
"You're going to be amazing out there," she whispered fiercely. "Show them what real talent looks like."
Brandon returned the hug, drawing strength from her confidence in him. As they pulled apart, he looked into her eyes.
"Thank you, Elise. Not just for the jewelry, but for believing in me."
Their moment of intimacy was interrupted by a young man with a headset mic poked his head into the green room.
"BMG? It's your turn," the assistant announced, his eyes scanning the room.
"Please send your owner and artist to the prep area."
Brandon nodded and strode towards the door, exuding confidence with each step.
As he reached the doorway, the young man's brow furrowed in confusion.
He glanced around the room, then back at Brandon.
"What about your artist?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Brandon's lips curled into a smirk,
"You're looking at him," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact but with a hint of amusement.
The assistant's eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words.
Brandon chuckled softly and patted the young man on the shoulder as he passed by.
"Lead the way," he said, gesturing for the assistant to guide him to the prep area.