The concert energy still pulsed in the air as Neon-Hype and Fist emerged backstage. Cheers from the crowd reverberated from the stadium, and staff and band members were abuzz with excitement. Cameras flashed, interviews were pending, and the afterparty hum had already started.
Noah hung back, observing the pandemonium. He wasn't of this realm—just a stranger who had somehow become entangled.
That was when Fist, the frontman of the band Neon-Hype whom he had worked with, strolled up to him sporting a smug smile.
"Didn't think you'd be here, someone like you," Fist replied, his eyes taking Noah in with wide curiosity.
Noah arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly does 'someone like me' mean?"
Fist grinned. "A non-idol, but smack-dab in the middle of everything. That's special, ain't it?" His voice grew an octave lower, mocking.
Noah laughed. "Maybe I am."
