Allen stared at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, water droplets clinging to his face from a cold splash to wake him up. His dark hair was a tangled mess, and the tired circles under his eyes gave away the restless night he'd had. He had barely slept, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the upcoming call with Brightest Star. It was hard to believe that this time tomorrow, he could be preparing for the opportunity of a lifetime.
He wiped his face with a towel and threw on his usual jeans and a black t-shirt. He paused for a second, looking at his reflection again. He pulled at his shirt, wondering if he should've worn something more polished. But this was who he was. The jeans and t-shirt felt like his armor, his uniform for facing whatever the world threw at him.
His phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the clock: it was 2:45 PM. The producers would be calling in 15 minutes. His stomach tightened, a knot forming in his chest as the reality of what was happening settled in. He quickly checked his phone—no more messages from Benji, no random social media mentions—just the inevitable countdown to that crucial call.
He had time to kill. Allen plopped down on the couch, which creaked under his weight. The small apartment felt even smaller today, almost suffocating in its cramped confines. Dirty dishes piled up on the counter, and the stale smell of old takeout filled the room. But this place wasn't home; it was just a stop along the way. Soon, if everything went right, he'd be out of here for good.
His mind drifted to the system, the now-familiar interface hanging in the background of his consciousness. He had 650 showbiz points left, and he was going to need every edge he could get. The call with Brightest Star was just the start—after that, he'd be competing against some of the best voices in the country. No way was he going to walk in unprepared.
"Let's see what I can do," he muttered to himself, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes to access the system.
His stats appeared in his mind:
Vocal Talent: 4/10
Guitar: 3/10
Songwriting: 3/10
Charisma: 4/10
Appearance: 4/10
Intelligence: 5/10
650 points. Not enough to make any major moves, but enough to fine-tune something important. He debated which stat to upgrade. Vocal Talent was already at 4/10, which was solid, but maybe he needed that extra push to 5/10 to really impress the producers and the judges.
Then again, Charisma was going to be crucial, too. On a show like Brightest Star, it wasn't just about how well you sang—it was about winning over the audience. People needed to like him, root for him, and feel connected to his story.
He thought about upgrading his appearance, maybe giving himself that extra visual edge, but quickly dismissed the idea. No one made it to the top on looks alone. He'd be better off focusing on what got him noticed in the first place—his voice, his music.
"Okay, vocals it is," he said to himself, confirming the decision. Upgrading from 4/10 to 5/10 would cost 2,500 points, more than he had. He sighed. That would have to wait.
Instead, he opted for a more strategic move. His songwriting skill was currently at 3/10, and if he wanted to stand out in the competition, writing original songs could be the key. Covers could only get him so far, but a well-written original song would set him apart. Plus, upgrading from 3/10 to 4/10 would only cost 1,000 points—not enough for now, but it was within reach if he could score more points later.
He decided to hold onto his 650 points for now. Better to have them for an emergency than spend them recklessly.
His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a notification he could ignore.
Incoming Call: Brightest Star.
Allen's heart pounded in his chest. This was it. He cleared his throat, steadied his breathing, and hit "accept."
"Hello, this is Allen Rice," he said, trying to sound casual, though his voice came out a bit shaky.
"Hi, Allen! This is Claire from Brightest Star. Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with us today."
"Of course! Thanks for reaching out," Allen replied, already feeling the sweat forming on his palms. He wiped them on his jeans, hoping his voice didn't betray how nervous he was.
"We've been really impressed by your recent viral video," Claire continued, her tone professional yet warm. "It's not often we see someone with such raw talent and a unique sound, and we think you could be a great fit for our next season."
"Thank you, that means a lot," Allen said, trying not to sound too eager. He needed to stay cool, composed. He was just a guy who played guitar on the streets—not some overnight sensation. Not yet, anyway.
"We'd love to invite you to participate in our next season," Claire said. "It starts in about a month, and there will be a series of auditions leading up to the live shows. Contestants are expected to perform a mix of covers and original music. Do you have any questions?"
Allen blinked. They were just… inviting him like that? No hoops to jump through? No long-winded explanations? The thought of being part of Brightest Star made his head spin.
"Uh, yeah, a few questions," Allen stammered. "How many contestants are you looking at for the next season? And, um, what's the process like after the initial auditions?"
"Good questions," Claire said smoothly. "We're looking at about twenty contestants for the first round. From there, we'll narrow it down each week based on performances and audience votes. We also have themed challenges, which can be anything from singing specific genres to collaborating with other contestants."
Twenty contestants. That was it? Allen had expected a much larger pool. The competition would be stiff.
"Wow, okay," Allen said, doing his best to process the information. "And what about originals? How important are they in the competition?"
"They're crucial," Claire said. "Covers are great for showing your range, but it's the originals that really set contestants apart. Audiences and judges love to hear something new, something personal. Do you have any original songs ready?"
Allen nodded, though Claire couldn't see him. "Yeah, I've been working on a few. I'll definitely have something ready."
"Great! Well, if everything sounds good on your end, we'd love to have you join us," Claire said, her tone bright and inviting.
"Absolutely," Allen replied. "I'm in."
"Fantastic! We'll send over all the details, including what you'll need to prepare for the first audition, and the logistics for traveling to our studios. We're looking forward to seeing what you bring to the table, Allen."
"Thank you so much, Claire," Allen said, a smile spreading across his face. "I won't let you down."
"Talk to you soon!" she said, and with that, the call ended.
Allen set the phone down and just sat there for a moment, staring at it in disbelief. That was it. He was officially a contestant on Brightest Star.
The weight of it started to sink in. He had a month to prepare—to write songs, perfect his vocals, get his image together, and figure out how to handle the pressure of being on national television. But for now, he just let himself enjoy the moment. He was in. The door had opened.
His phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Benji.
"How did it go?"
Allen grinned, typing back: "I'm in."
A flood of emojis and exclamation marks came in from Benji's side, and Allen chuckled, shaking his head.
"I knew you had it, man!" Benji wrote. "You're gonna kill it on that stage!"
"Hope so," Allen texted back. "Now I just have to figure out how not to mess it all up."
As he set the phone down, Allen felt a surge of determination. The viral video had been the start, but this was the real test. He had the talent, the drive, and now the opportunity. All he had to do was show up, give it everything he had, and prove to the world that he wasn't just some random guy with a guitar. He was Allen Rice, and he was about to make his mark.
One month. The countdown had begun.