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🕑 Added 2025-06-25 16:35:38 +0000 UTCChapter 201: An Honored Guest
The air thickened slightly. The chaotic scene came to a temporary halt due to the interruption of an unexpected visitor. Even Ollie, who had been wildly swinging his fists, noticed something was off when the man in the black suit turned his attention elsewhere. A beat late, he paused his movements, eyes still scanning for the man in black.
“Mr. Kimmel.”
But the man in the black suit was no longer concerned with Ollie. He immediately recognized the new arrival and instinctively greeted him. Straightening his suit in haste, he bypassed Ollie and Ronan and quickly approached with a courteous expression—
That same robotic professionalism as before, now tinged with a touch more respect.
“My apologies for the commotion. I’ll take care of it—no need to worry. Mr. Kimmel, please head upstairs. The party is in full swing and everything is under control.”
So… no invitation needed?
However, the man—Jimmy Kimmel—simply raised a hand in a calm-down gesture, sidestepped the approaching black suit, and walked straight toward Ronan. Under the lights at the entrance, he examined Ronan carefully, confirming his hunch.
“You’re Ronan Cooper from the One Day King band, right? Ha! I knew I wasn’t mistaken. I absolutely loved your show in Philly—I love your music, and even more so, your stage presence.”
“I was just telling Bruno, where does he keep finding these hidden gems? First it was The Fizzy Fits, now it’s you guys. I can’t believe I’m getting to meet you tonight and tell you in person how much I enjoy your work. This is just awesome.”
Warm, enthusiastic, friendly—his monologue didn’t feel intrusive at all. On the contrary, it instantly broke the ice and brought a lively energy to the meeting.
“Ah, right—sorry, sorry, look at me rambling. I always forget to introduce myself. That’s really bad manners, isn’t it? I hope it didn’t ruin your first impression of me. Jimmy Kimmel—so glad to meet One Day King tonight.”
He extended his right hand with a bright smile, the light from the entrance catching in his eyes, making his expression glow with genuine warmth.
Jimmy Kimmel—American talk show host. Since premiering Jimmy Kimmel Live! in January 2003, the show has remained ABC’s most popular late-night program, known for its accessible and friendly conversations.
He later hosted the Oscars back-to-back in 2017 and 2018, as well as the Emmys in 2012 and 2020—clear indications of his comedic style: humorous, but never crossing into controversy. While perhaps not as sharp as some late-night peers and a bit milder in ratings, his appeal spans a wide age range.
Notably, Jimmy Kimmel Live! is the longest-running late-night show in ABC history. Even after Disney acquired the network, the show continued, cementing its place as a key part of ABC’s brand.
On a personal level, Jimmy is known for his warm and outgoing nature, with connections across various industries—
Earlier this year, he hosted the White House Correspondents' Dinner during President Barack *****’s re-election ceremony.
His ties to Hollywood and the North American music scene are also deep, so his appearance at Bruno’s tour afterparty was no surprise.
But for him to recognize Ronan and One Day King—that was a bit of a shock.
Jimmy beamed with joy. Whether it was polite small talk or sincere excitement, it was clear he was genuinely happy. After introducing himself, he held out his hand to Ronan, ready to defuse the tension.
Ronan looked up politely and met his eyes. His hand, still holding his phone, hesitated. He had already dialed a number, but Aaron hadn’t picked up yet—which, in the middle of a party, wasn’t too surprising. Then came the twist.
After a brief pause, Ronan hung up and shook Jimmy’s hand, smiling. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ronan Cooper.”
Ronan didn’t know much about talk shows. He had only a vague idea of Jimmy Kimmel’s fame. His straightforward nature came through: “You’re the Jimmy Kimmel from Jimmy Kimmel Live, right?” He hadn’t actually watched the show—he’d just heard of it.
Jimmy chuckled, unfazed by the comment. “Yep, that’s me—Jimmy Kimmel.”
Ronan gave a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Please forgive my ignorance. We’re still getting used to the idea of being recognized. Most people don’t even know who we are—let alone someone from TV or movies. It’s a little surreal.”
“Haha.” Jimmy laughed warmly. This was their first meeting, so he couldn’t tell whether Ronan was joking or sincere—but for a seasoned host, handling this kind of conversation was second nature. “I feel the same. Seeing a performer I’ve only seen on stage suddenly appear in front of me—it’s a very strange feeling.”
Ronan laughed along.
But the cheerful mood was short-lived.
“Mr. Kimmel, do you know these people?” The man in black reappeared. He didn’t say much more, but his dark expression made it hard to maintain that polished, professional façade. The dim lighting couldn’t hide his scowl.
Jimmy’s first reaction was to glance at Ronan.
“Most people don’t even know who we are.” That offhanded comment from earlier suddenly clicked. Jimmy now understood what Ronan had meant. Recalling the earlier scuffle and the man in black’s words, the whole situation became clear.
“Yes, I do know them,” Jimmy said with a calm smile. He wasn’t condescending or arrogant—his tone remained gentle, but his stance was firm. “They’re guest performers at Bruno’s concert. You should remember their names.”
One short sentence, but it was more than enough.
The black suit stiffened. There wasn’t anything particularly harsh in Jimmy’s words, but his cheeks burned as if he’d just been slapped. His lips moved slightly, but he couldn’t form a single word.
Jimmy looked back at the band with a warm smile. “Well then, shall we head to Bruno’s party?”
“But this gentleman just told us we needed an invitation to get in,” said a voice from the side—Cliff.
Chapter 202 – A Clear Divide
Standing nearby and itching to speak up, Cliff finally saw his chance and quickly jumped in with a question. "But this gentleman just told us that we need an invitation to get in," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the tension and emotion behind it were unmistakable. Even his eyes betrayed his unrest.
Jimmy raised an eyebrow in surprise and turned toward the man in the black suit. "Do we need an invitation?"
Cliff straightened slightly, his burning gaze fixed on the man in black, waiting for an answer.
Once again in the spotlight, the man in the black suit found himself in a tight spot. Though his face was stiff, the anger boiling inside him was palpable. His tensed shoulders looked like they might explode at any moment.
But before the man could respond—and before Jimmy or Cliff could say anything else—Ronan smoothly stepped in. "This is our first time attending a private party like this. I'm not sure if we've arrived at the right moment. Is now appropriate, or should we wait a little longer?"
With that casual statement, Ronan deftly redirected the conversation, skipping over Cliff’s question and circling back to the topic Jimmy had just raised—inviting the band to the party. In essence, he was offering the man in black a way out.
Cliff couldn't believe what he was hearing. He fought back the urge to confront Ronan directly, but his stunned expression betrayed him as he turned to stare.
Ronan met his gaze calmly and smiled. "Cliff, we're also part of the celebration tonight. We should be thanking the Fizzy Fit band and Bruno for all they've done. Weren’t you really looking forward to enjoying yourself tonight?"
Strictly speaking, Ronan wasn’t trying to defend the man in black out of kindness or mercy. He just didn’t think the man was worth it. There was no point in lowering himself to keep arguing—it would be like getting bitten by a dog and deciding to bite back. Ridiculous and degrading.
Plus, with just a few brief exchanges, Ronan could already tell what kind of person Jimmy was. He wasn’t the domineering type who liked stirring up drama or using power to crush others. If that were the case, he could have easily humiliated the man in black with a few words—something like “I didn’t hear about any invitations” or “I need an invitation too?”—and backed him into a corner.
But Jimmy didn’t.
Instead, he left room for explanation. Whether you viewed that as avoiding conflict or simply being considerate depended on your perspective.
To Ronan, continuing the confrontation here was pointless. After offering Cliff a smile, he turned to Jimmy again. "So, should we wait a little longer, or is now the perfect time to make our entrance and surprise everyone?"
Jimmy looked at Ronan again, and this time, a flicker of interest shone in his eyes.
Compared to the other three band members, Ronan had handled the situation with impressive composure and leadership—something Jimmy, with over twenty years in the entertainment industry, had learned to recognize. In his experience, the best way to handle drama like this was quickly and decisively. Paparazzi loved conflict, especially if it happened right on the street—perfect tabloid fodder.
In other words, the longer they stood around in public, the messier things could get.
So Jimmy nodded lightly and made a welcoming gesture. "Now’s the perfect time."
Ronan and Jimmy exchanged smiles and began walking side by side. As they approached the heavy, carved wooden doors, Ronan stepped forward, pushed them open, and turned to Jimmy with a smile, gesturing for him to go first. Jimmy returned the smile. “Thanks,” he said, and walked right in.
That was all it took—a heavy wooden door that had seemed like a barrier just moments ago, now easily pushed open.
Ronan signaled to the rest of the band with a glance. Cliff, snapping out of his daze, was the first to follow.
Ollie, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. He strode forward, using his solid frame to squeeze into the space beside the man in black. In a low voice, he growled, "Remember—what you know about the world isn't all there is." Without waiting for a reaction, he walked past him and entered.
Maxime, who’d been hovering nervously between Cliff and Ollie the entire time, followed close behind, a trace of worry still in his eyes.
Ronan gave Maxime a reassuring smile. Taking the cue, Maxime exhaled softly and hurried past him, leaving Ronan as the last to enter. He held the door gently, and that’s when he felt it—the burning gaze aimed right at him.
He looked up and, unsurprisingly, met the eyes of the man in black.
Bathed in the soft glow of warm yellow lights, the man’s face was stiff and clouded. Ollie’s words had clearly struck a nerve. His shifting expression gave away the storm roiling inside—but whether it was humiliation, anger, or something more complicated, it was hard to say.
And Ronan?
He didn’t gloat or mock. He met the man’s stare with calm dignity. That quiet self-assurance—that true sense of pride—was what really made the man in black feel small. His professional mask nearly cracked again.
From beginning to end, Ronan never looked down on him—not with contempt or scorn. The truth was, the man in black despised himself. That’s why he abused his tiny bit of authority and showed his ugliest side. If he truly had concerns about the band being party crashers, there were a dozen better ways to handle it. But he chose the petty route, and this was the result.
Often, the ugliness in our words and actions is just a reflection of the darkness in our own souls.
Without saying a word, Ronan released the door. With a gentle push, the heavy door slowly, slowly closed behind him.
The man in black watched as Ronan walked away without a second glance, disappearing inside as if he were nothing—an invisible footnote. And that, more than anything else, was the fatal blow. Everything he relied on, hoped for, and admired had just been tossed aside.
Thud.
The door closed with a dull, final sound, shutting off all vision and all sound. Once again, a clear line was drawn between two worlds. Inside and out, the divide was sharp and total. Silence returned, as if nothing had ever happened.
Chapter 203 – Awkward Atmosphere
Step. Step. Step.
The faint sound of leather shoes tapping against the wooden floor echoed down the deep and silent corridor. It was less than twenty meters long, but every footfall rang out sharply, its rhythm and weight amplified by the stillness—so much so, it felt like even breath and heartbeat could be heard.
It was suffocating.
The band members stood inside the elevator while Maxim held down the “Open Door” button, waiting for Ronan to catch up. But everyone kept their distance, tense and silent. No one spoke. No one moved. It was as if they were all trapped in some strange deadlock, exchanging looks without a single word.
Even Jimmy Kimmel, the seasoned talk show host, had sunk into his own thoughts and didn’t attempt to break the silence.
So when Ronan finally stepped into the elevator, he was totally baffled, casting confused glances at his bandmates. He thought something had gone wrong again.
Maxim noticed Ronan looking his way but completely ignored him. He was far too focused on the elevator wall’s reflection, carefully fixing his hair and checking his appearance from different angles, tenderly running a hand along his jawline to make sure everything still looked perfect.
Cliff, meanwhile, seemed unsure how to react. He glanced quickly at Jimmy, then at Maxim, then back at Jimmy again. His gaze even flicked briefly to Ronan, his eyes darting busily like a control tower operator trying to keep tabs on everything at once.
Ronan really wanted to make a snarky comment about Maxim, but he held back. Instead, he hesitated for a moment and asked, bewildered, “Are we going through a post-nut clarity moment or something? Can someone please clue me in?”
Jimmy had snapped out of his thoughts and was just starting to smile again, ready to answer—when suddenly...
“Pfft—HAHAHAHA!”
Out of nowhere, Ollie’s signature, exaggerated laugh exploded like a thunderclap, echoing through the enclosed elevator space and practically vibrating their eardrums.
Even the band, who were used to being around him every day, jumped back in surprise. They all instinctively backed away from the “blast zone” and looked at Ollie in confusion. As for Jimmy, who hadn’t been remotely prepared...
“Jesus—freakin’—Christ!”
He swore outright, eyes wide in pure disbelief as he stared at Ollie, looking like he might lose an eyeball. Ollie, meanwhile, just turned to face the elevator doors, silent again, offering Jimmy nothing but his back—like that wild laugh had never happened.
Jimmy had never met anyone quite like this. Still wearing his “what the hell?” expression, he slowly turned to Ronan, his brain lagging just a little behind the moment. Then he laughed.
“…Was that a prank?”
If it was a prank, Jimmy was no stranger to them. Jimmy Kimmel Live had built a huge family audience off harmless prank segments. One of the most famous was the Halloween tradition where parents pretended to eat all their kids’ trick-or-treat candy and recorded their reactions.
But today wasn’t a work day—it was just a party. So Jimmy's response was a little slower than usual.
Ronan had also been startled, but since it was just Ollie, he recovered quickly. Seeing Jimmy’s expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Ollie sees the world a little differently from the rest of us. I still haven’t figured out what he finds funny, to be honest. I think that’s part of his charm.”
And just like that, the conversation resumed, and the odd silence in the elevator finally broke.
“Wow.” Jimmy, seasoned as he was, gradually calmed down. “A character like that would be a hit in a movie or on TV.”
Of course, being a talk show host, his perspective was unique. Ronan smiled, the amusement clearly showing in his eyes.
“He’s great for live shows too. You never know what’s going to happen, and that surprise—sometimes good, sometimes crazy—that’s our special flavor.”
“Haha.” Jimmy laughed, enjoying Ronan’s take on stage mishaps. “I’ve got to say, your Philly concert was all good surprises. I loved it. As soon as I got home that night, I was thinking I should check out more of your music. I’m definitely adding you to my daily playlist.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you gave our songs a shout-out on your show.” Ronan’s tone was playful—he was clearly asking Jimmy to promote the band, but phrased it like he was giving permission instead, with a touch of artistic pride. His teasing look made it even better.
Jimmy got it right away, eyes full of amusement even as he mock-grumbled, “You do know ad spots on my show aren’t free, right? Should I just send you the invoice?”
Ronan didn’t miss a beat. He gave a casual shrug and opened his hands. “If you’re going to send a bill, you’d better do it fast. We’re already teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Any later and your show might take a hit instead. Want me to email you our address?”
“HAHA!” Jimmy finally let out a full, hearty laugh. This back-and-forth was too good. “You guys need to come on my show…”
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Right then, the elevator arrived at the top floor. As the doors slid open, they were hit with a blast of sound and light—black-and-white checkered flooring, a hallway glowing with dazzling neon lights, and thunderous electronic beats crashing over them like a tidal wave.
Jimmy’s voice was immediately drowned out, but he leaned closer to Ronan and repeated loudly, “I’m serious! You guys should come on my show!”
Ronan leaned in too, replying by Jimmy’s ear, “I thought only artists on promo tours could go on. We haven’t even released our album yet.”
No gushing, no immediate “yes”—just a jokey reply to keep the mood light. After all, it was a party. Jimmy appreciated the response even more because of it. Words aside, his actions made his intent clear—he made a welcoming gesture, as if to say: Let the party begin.
Maxim had already strutted confidently into the hallway like a princess at her coming-of-age ball. Cliff looked to Jimmy, Ollie looked to Ronan—they were waiting. Once Jimmy and Ronan stepped out, the rest followed.
Not far ahead, Maxim stood with the slightest hesitation in his step.
