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🕑 Added 2025-08-06 17:19:28 +0000 UTCChapter 316 – A Smooth Collaboration
Realizing that adapting to the venue was a challenge beyond the Day King Band’s experience or expertise, Ronan didn’t hesitate—he immediately approached the on-site staff for help.
Noticing the staff’s slightly surprised expression, Ronan offered a faint smile. “We only have an hour, and ten minutes have already passed. I don’t think we have many options.”
To deliver a great performance, they had to drop any unnecessary pride or ego—otherwise, they’d only end up sabotaging themselves.
His brief words carried a hint of humor, self-mockery, and light teasing—Ronan clearly understood the staff’s mindset. If the crew wanted to make things difficult for arrogant or rude artists, they had endless ways to do so. That’s just how things worked in this line of work.
The staff could feel Ronan’s sincere and open attitude, and his knowing, playful tone. After a moment of surprise, the atmosphere relaxed completely. Instead of throwing shade or holding grudges, the staff became proactive and candid, willingly sharing their experience and technical knowledge.
Once egos and barriers were set aside, communication became smooth and productive, and the task of adapting to the venue got back on track.
The close interaction helped the band and crew quickly develop a working rhythm. Even if issues came up later, the staff would willingly offer guidance—without worrying about offending the band’s pride. This mutual exchange marked the beginning of real progress.
No drama, no surprises—Staples Center returned to its usual high-efficiency, professional rhythm.
The band members were so deeply focused on their work that none of them noticed Alice had quietly slipped away. Even Ronan missed it. But about fifteen minutes later, she returned—with a delivery guy in tow. Together, they brought thirty cups of coffee and four big boxes of donuts.
Clearly, Alice had picked up on something. Bruno had been rehearsing all night, and the Day King Band was back at the venue early the next morning. Whether or not it was the same crew working shifts, one thing was certain: these staffers were under intense pressure from nonstop rehearsals. Even if some of them had just arrived, they likely hadn’t eaten or even had a sip of coffee.
So Alice took quick action.
The hustle and bustle at Staples briefly paused. A cup of coffee to wake up, a donut to replenish energy—and the staff, who had been darting around nonstop, seemed to move with a bit more ease. A few fleeting smiles were exchanged.
But up on stage, the Day King Band had no time for coffee breaks. They remained fully immersed in adapting to the venue. Things were turning out to be more complex than expected.
One of Bruno’s biggest concerns was the in-ear monitors. With a much larger space, echo and ambient noise became hard to eliminate. Plus, the lighting, fireworks, and machinery could all disrupt the performance. This made the monitors crucial—and emphasized the importance of syncing up with the sound engineers.
Not just Ronan—the entire band needed to work closely with the audio team to fine-tune the frequency settings to match each member’s preferences.
They were so busy that time became meaningless.
“Looks like rehearsals are going smoothly.”
During a quick break for water, a sudden voice cut through the heavy, sweat-drenched air. Everyone looked over. Cliff was the first to turn—and saw Curtis Dean rolling his eyes.
Clearly, Curtis thought the band was slacking off, wasting valuable rehearsal time. “With only an hour to rehearse, you still have time to chill?” his expression seemed to say.
Cliff was about to explain—they weren’t resting, just hydrating. Even during water breaks, they were still discussing details. But before he could speak, Curtis raised his hand to cut him off.
“I don’t even want to waste time saying hi to you guys, and you’re here sipping water?” Curtis fired off without holding back, giving Cliff a sharp sideways glance that instantly shut him up.
The band members were clearly wary of Curtis—annoyed but too intimidated to say anything.
But Ronan didn’t seem fazed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid of Curtis, but he understood the man. Curtis was like a hedgehog, always bristling to protect himself. He wasn’t targeting anyone specifically—this was just how he treated everyone.
“So, why don’t we get back to work?” Ronan cut in, neither agreeing nor arguing with Curtis. Curtis rolled his eyes again, and Ronan followed up with another question: “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t in charge of the live performance.”
With the Day King Band performing at the Grammys, Atlantic Records naturally had to be involved. They sent professionals to Staples Center to help with rehearsal and coordinate with Grammy organizers—in essence, supporting Alice from the technical side to ensure everything went smoothly.
But no one expected Curtis to show up. Though he was a respected producer, Curtis usually had nothing to do with anything outside the recording studio—and he wasn’t exactly the best fit for live performance guidance either.
When Ronan asked, Curtis exploded. “It’s because of you, obviously! You’ve got an orchestra, multi-part harmonies—one slip in a live performance could be a disaster! With your experience and skill level, the chances of messing up are practically 100%...”
At the end of the day, Curtis wasn’t there to guide the performance. He was there to make sure the arrangement and production held up under the pressure of a live show.
His outburst hit like a storm, scaring even the staff, who had no idea what had just happened. In a flash, the relaxed atmosphere at Staples turned tense.
Thanks to the earlier rapport, the staff now looked to Ronan, silently asking what was going on. Their subtle glances revealed something important—the Day King Band had earned their respect, and the staff were willing to trust Ronan.
Chapter 317 – Special Guest
Curtis exploded the moment he walked in, like a storm hitting without warning—yelling louder and more fiercely than usual. Clearly, this guy wasn’t used to waking up early, and it showed in the worst kind of “morning mood.”
Honestly, it wasn’t even surprising. Curtis was basically nocturnal, like an owl. Suddenly being forced to function early in the morning? Yeah, no wonder he was losing it.
Ronan could feel the tension in the room, and the staff’s confused and awkward glances weren’t helping. So he stepped in again to interrupt Curtis’s rampage.
“Well, how’s the final arrangement coming along? I haven’t heard the finished version yet, and we’re running out of rehearsal time.”
Curtis choked mid-rant, shooting Ronan a sharp glare that practically screamed, Are you seriously blaming me now for being slow?
But Ronan wasn’t backing down. He stared right back, his eyes clearly saying, Aren’t I?
Curtis nearly choked on his own spit. “The arrangement is excellent, of course. I’ve taken time because I care about quality—it’s my signature. But—”
“Then we’re all good,” Ronan cut him off again. “The music is what matters. The performance is what matters. Which means we all need to give it our best. Curtis, if you keep throwing a tantrum, we’re all just gonna stand here frozen, not knowing what to do. And on top of that, we won’t even have enough time for rehearsal. So, do you really want to waste more time here?”
Curtis’s expression froze mid-shout, his face twitching like he was about to explode on the spot. The air in the room turned so heavy, no one even dared to breathe.
And then… Curtis smiled.
He let out a sharp “F”-word under his breath, then asked as if nothing had happened, “Where are we now? Finished getting used to the venue? Are we starting the actual rehearsal?”
The emotional whiplash was unreal. Everyone felt like their hearts had just been torn into pieces. No one could figure out what was going on with Curtis.
But Curtis didn’t seem to care. He marched toward the stage, then suddenly paused and turned around.
“Miss Alena,” he called.
Only then did everyone realize he hadn’t come alone. A graceful figure had been standing in the shadows behind him the entire time, quietly observing all the chaos without giving away a single thought.
Ronan’s eyes paused slightly—Miss Alena? Wait, could it be…
The woman stepped forward slowly. A violin case was slung over her right shoulder. Her wavy black hair was a bit messy, giving off a lazy, casual vibe. Her face was calm, almost expressionless, but her dark eyes—like ripe black grapes—carried a soft, shining smile.
It was her.
Ronan never expected to see her again, let alone like this, after four whole months.
Curtis waited for her to catch up, then walked with her side by side onto the stage. They stopped in front of the band, and Curtis made the introduction.
“This is Miss Alena Bayeva, one of the finest young violinists in the world. We’ve invited her to join your Grammy performance.”
Alena smiled gently and stepped forward to introduce herself. Then she shook hands with the band members one by one, until she stopped in front of Ronan. Their eyes met and locked, as if seeing reflections of each other deep within their gaze.
“Alena, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ronan, the pleasure is all mine.”
They kept it formal and simple, but just as Alena was about to let go of his hand, Ronan’s grip tightened slightly. The warmth of his palm radiated through her skin, and for a second, her heartbeat skipped. Then she saw the faint smirk rising at the corner of his mouth.
There was a mischievous spark in it.
She could feel the heat in his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she met his eyes with quiet confidence, calmly waiting to see what he would say next.
“I’m really, really looking forward to performing with you,” Ronan said, “but I had no idea you were into pop music.”
A flicker of amusement danced in Alena’s eyes. “I wouldn’t call One-Day King’s music ‘pop,’ exactly. But even if it is, I don’t believe music should be divided by class or genre. Pop, classical, alternative—those are just labels we use to categorize our tastes. At the end of the day, music is music. It’s all about human emotion and the connection it creates with listeners. Don’t you think?”
“Wow.” Ronan blinked. “So… does that mean I can look forward to this collaboration?”
He was still staring at her when he noticed the teasing smile in her eyes—confident and direct. That made him falter just a bit. His gaze dropped slightly, as if to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.
Alena caught his subtle reaction and smiled even more brightly.
“You should say I’m the one who’s looking forward to it. Curtis Dean played me the new arrangement, and that’s what convinced me to say yes. I’m really excited for this performance.”
Ronan looked up again, his eyes lighting with energy. “Time’s tight. How about we start the rehearsal now?”
“That would be perfect.” Alena gently squeezed his hand, giving him a small cue.
Only then did Ronan realize he was still holding her hand. He quickly let go, and when he noticed the slight sweat on his palm, he awkwardly turned around and walked toward the center of the stage. With his back to Alena, he finally had a moment to breathe.
Ollie was the first to sneak up beside him, leaning in close. “You know her?”
He couldn’t explain why, but something just felt off to Ollie.
Ronan instinctively cleared his throat. “Yeah. Violinist. Didn’t Curtis just introduce her?”
Then he caught himself—Wait, why am I hiding this? It’s not like it’s a big secret.
“We met once at Bruno’s after-party.”
Ollie’s eyes widened, and he immediately gave Ronan the Ah, so that’s it look, scanning him up and down.
Ronan tried to stay calm. “You met her too, you just didn’t recognize her. That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”
“Uh…” Ollie blinked, getting thrown off track. He started scratching his head, genuinely trying to remember.
Meanwhile, standing behind them, Alena glanced down at her still-warm hand, and her lips curved up in a soft smile.
Curtis, completely unaware of any tension or subtext, walked over. “Miss Alena, do you want to check out the stage and equipment before we start rehearsing?”
When Alena looked up again, her usual calm and cool expression had returned.
“Of course. Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 318: Second Meeting
Gulp. Gulp.
Ronan’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he chugged water, his skin flushed slightly red as beads of hot sweat rolled down. The air around him seemed to pulse with the heat of his body, radiating a masculine energy. You could almost see the steam rising from beneath his skin, as if his blood was literally boiling.
“Ahhh!” After draining more than half the bottle of water in one go, Ronan let out a satisfied sigh. The sound startled Alena, who quickly dropped her gaze to hide the fact that she’d been sneaking glances at him. But even looking away didn’t help much—sitting so close to him, she could still feel the warmth radiating from his body. His scent, a faint mix of soap and fresh sweat, made her heart race uncontrollably.
And then...
Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but sneak another peek. Her gaze slowly traveled over his toned body. Normally, his clothes hid his figure, giving only the impression of a tall and solid build. But now, after sweating through his shirt, the T-shirt clung to his skin, outlining lean muscles that practically invited her imagination to wander—what would it feel like to trace those lines with her fingers? Would his skin feel like silk?
Stop it!
Realizing where her thoughts were heading, Alena quickly dropped her eyes again, forcing herself to count sheep to steady her breathing and heart rate.
The first rehearsal at the Staples Center for One Day King had just wrapped up. It had gone by in a flash—an intense hour that felt too short to fully savor. Now, the stage belonged to Frank Ocean.
Frank had arrived early and had watched the final part of One Day King's rehearsal. They exchanged a quick greeting before he took the stage for his own run-through. Meanwhile, the members of One Day King didn’t leave right away.
The rehearsal had left them completely drained. They looked like they’d just been fished out of a pool, soaked in sweat, now lounging in the audience seats to rest and unwind. More importantly, they stayed to observe Frank’s rehearsal and learn from it.
What the band needed most right now was experience—especially in adapting to the acoustics and layout of the Staples Center. Watching Frank’s performance could help them get a better feel for the space, from both a visual and auditory standpoint. Plus, Frank hadn’t asked for privacy during his rehearsal.
Scattered across the seats, the band members rested. Initially, Ollie had been sitting with Ronan, but when Alena arrived, the socially awkward Ollie moved down a few seats, leaving Ronan and Alena side by side.
The rest of the band couldn’t help sneaking glances at them, curious about what might be going on between the two. Soon, they started edging closer to Ollie, whispering their questions.
“...Alena?” The voice calling her name approached from a distance, gradually drawing closer. Alena snapped to attention, quickly lifting her head, her eyes betraying a flash of panic and confusion. Then she saw Ronan’s mouth curl into a gentle smile—and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade: the noise, the lights, the surroundings. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Twenty-five cents for your thoughts,” Ronan said playfully, clearly noticing her flustered reaction. The last time they met, Alena had left a lasting impression with her calm composure. Seeing her out of sorts now was hard to miss.
Alena gathered herself, lifting her head with a slightly narrowed gaze and returning his smile. “I was just wondering if I might end up regretting saying yes to this performance.”
“Oh?” Ronan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Because the rehearsal didn’t go well?”
“No, the rehearsal went very, very well,” Alena replied, half-serious and half-joking. “But your performance was so impressive, I’m worried I won’t be able to keep up. If that happens, I might be met with something other than applause when I return to Europe.”
Even as she spoke, the heat radiating from Ronan was overwhelming. It took everything she had to maintain her composure and keep her voice steady. Her heart still pounded wildly in her chest, but at least her tone was calm.
Ronan chuckled softly. He didn’t take her words too seriously—after all, during rehearsal, Alena had performed brilliantly. Her technique and emotional expression had left the whole band amazed. This was what a world-class performance looked like, and the gap between their levels was clear.
Besides, Alena was known for her unshakable confidence and dedication to her craft. She was the type to polish her skills endlessly and believed deeply in her professionalism. There was no way she’d be rattled by a single rehearsal.
Unaware of the turmoil beneath her calm exterior, Ronan joined in the banter. “So then, why did you agree to perform with us in the first place?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Alena replied, her tone laced with irony and amusement, but her expression was surprisingly serious, which created an oddly charming contradiction.
Ronan spread his hands dramatically. “Sounds like we’d better step up our game. If we lose the chance to have a world-class violinist on stage with us, our performance might suffer. That’s not a risk we can afford.”
Alena looked up at him. His eyes, deep and ocean-blue, sparkled with a clear, expansive light that seemed to pull her in like a black hole. Her heart skipped another beat, her breathing faltered, and the words on the tip of her tongue stalled.
After a brief hesitation, she abruptly changed the topic—almost biting her tongue in her haste. “Can you tell me more about the background of the song My Demon? To really express the emotion in the melody, I need to understand the story behind every note.”
Nothing calms emotional chaos quite like diving into a professional topic—for both Alena and Ronan.
Sure enough, Ronan didn’t dwell on it. Although he had sensed a flicker of emotion in her a moment earlier, and felt a stir of confusion in his own mind, he didn’t have the time to unpack it all. He, too, needed to maintain control, so he followed her lead.
But instead of giving a direct answer, Ronan smiled and countered, “Why don’t you tell me your interpretation first?”
