The nights in New York always carry a hint of indifference. As the city lights flicker to life, the streets teem with a ceaseless flow of vehicles and pedestrians; yet, this metropolis seems perpetually busy and distant. Alex Cummings sat in his Midtown Manhattan apartment, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. As an independent music copyright attorney, his life was filled with documents, contracts, and an endless array of legal jargon. However, tonight, his attention was captured by a particular piece of music.
The sound system resonated with Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2, its profound melodies stirring a sense of unease within him. He could not quite pinpoint what drew him in—perhaps it was the sheer power of the music, or perhaps it was the ominous feeling evoked by the recently chart-topping pop song "Only Me."
"Only Me" had taken the music industry by storm, catapulting singer Rick Evans to stardom almost overnight. Yet, Alex detected a resemblance between this song and Rachmaninoff's concerto. A mere fragment was enough to make him suspect that there might be grounds for plagiarism.
As he pondered this unsettling thought, the phone rang. At this hour, it was unusual for a client to call. Alex furrowed his brow and picked up the receiver.
"Is this Alex Cummings?" a deep voice inquired from the other end.
"Yes, it is. Who is this?" Alex asked cautiously.
"That is not important. What matters is the investigation you are conducting—regarding Rick Evans' song 'Only Me.' You would do well not to abandon it," the voice carried a hint of mockery, as if testing Alex's patience.
Alex's brow furrowed deeper. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"There are more secrets hidden behind this song than a simple case of plagiarism. Someone is orchestrating everything. If you truly wish to uncover the truth, look into Evans' correspondence prior to the release of this song, particularly an anonymous letter he received."
Alex's heart raced. "Why should I trust you?"
"You need not trust me; simply see what you can uncover. This world is far more complex than you can imagine." A soft chuckle emanated from the other end, followed by a faint click as the call ended.
Alex set the phone down, his thoughts swirling. Throughout his career, he had encountered a myriad of cases, but never had he felt such disquiet as he did tonight. The mysterious voice, the secrets implied in its tone, suggested that this was not merely an ordinary copyright dispute.
Perhaps he was standing on the brink of a far greater conspiracy.