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🕑 Added 2025-06-09 16:39:11 +0000 UTCChapter 159: A Pivotal Shift
“…Because you guys deserve it.”
That line sounded familiar.
Ronan instantly felt Ollie’s excited gaze boring into him, those slightly shimmering eyes practically shouting: See? I told you so!
But Ollie seemed even more worked up than Ronan. His eyes were already reddening, on the verge of tears again. It eased Ronan’s awkward tension, melting away his usual fluster. His mood lightened up a bit.
“Thanks,” Ronan said. It wasn’t easy, but the words came out. He was slowly learning to take compliments—not a simple task, but a start. After that short phrase, a smile tugged at his lips, a genuine wave of joy bubbling up inside.
Aaron picked up on the cautious edge in Ronan’s voice, the humble restraint. It wasn’t the brash, untamed vibe you’d expect from an indie band, let alone the stubborn streak of a rock group. His gaze lingered on Ronan, a flicker of concern in his eyes.
That one look went beyond the casual care of a first meeting—it felt like the warmth of an old friend. Ronan was a little thrown off.
Aaron didn’t explain, though. Noticing Ronan’s curious glance, he just chuckled and moved on. “I came to the green room today with a specific purpose, so don’t peg me as the nice guy here. Do you guys have a manager yet? If not, I’d love to step in.”
A manager?
Ronan shot a look at Cliff and Maxim. The topic was a sore spot. Trastan was ancient history, but they’d avoided the manager conversation ever since. They’d gone months without one, and now, having it brought up out of nowhere felt like picking at a healed scar.
Cliff gave Ronan a subtle headshake, a warning. But, worried Ronan or Ollie might jump the gun and derail things, he quickly opened his mouth. “Yeah, we’ve already got a manager.”
What?
Wasn’t that a straight-up lie?
Ronan’s glance at Cliff was about figuring out how to handle this, not slapping together some nonsense. He’d told John over the phone that the lack of a manager was exactly why the opening gig got so messy. And now, suddenly, they had one?
Plus, John was right there—wouldn’t this fall apart in seconds?
And Aaron showing interest in the band? Whether they’d take him on or work together was worth discussing, but Cliff cutting it off so rashly—what was that about? Was he paranoid Aaron had some ulterior motive? What was going through his head?
Ronan didn’t get it.
At all!
The words barely left Cliff’s mouth before John’s eyes flicked to Ronan, a hint of confusion in them. But seeing the blank look in Ronan’s eyes settled him—Ronan’s honesty shone through. John didn’t call it out, though, just shifted his gaze quietly to Cliff.
Cliff might not have clocked the contradiction, but he doubled down. “Alice. Alice is our manager and tour coordinator.”
Alice, standing nearby with the camera, was all question marks—Me?
Aaron didn’t seem too shocked, though. Either John hadn’t filled him in, or his visit was a spur-of-the-moment thing John wasn’t clued into. “Oh,” Aaron said with a sigh. “That’s a shame, but I guess it doesn’t change much.”
He brushed it off, turning to Alice with ease. Spotting the bulky camera, he grinned. “So, you edit all that footage too? That’s some serious multitasking—tough gig. But this band’s got limitless potential.”
Alice was still in the dark, but confronting Cliff in front of John and Aaron wasn’t an option. She forced a smile, playing along.
John, silent this whole time, let his gaze settle on Cliff with a thoughtful, knowing look, like he’d pieced something together.
“Sorry, I know you’ve got your own plans for the band, but mind if I toss out some advice?” Aaron’s face held a gentle smile.
He wasn’t exactly handsome—his square jaw and rough edges could easily come off as intimidating—but that constant smile and slow, steady way of talking disarmed people, making them want to listen.
Especially since Alice knew zilch about managing. “Of course!” she jumped at the chance, slipping into her one-day manager role.
“From what I know, you guys haven’t hit the studio yet, right?” Aaron asked kindly, no judgment or sarcasm in his tone. Then he cracked a joke. “I tried downloading your stuff earlier, but I couldn’t find a single trace online.”
The band members blinked, caught off guard.
Aaron kept going. “After tonight, I’m definitely not the only one curious about you. Even if it’s just a tenth of the crowd, that’s a thousand people wanting to check you out post-show, maybe even become fans. But there’s nothing out there for them to find. That’s a real pity.”
It clicked for Alice right away—like YouTube videos, this was prime fan-building territory.
Forget concerts—even street gigs were the same. For an indie band, every fan was gold, worth holding onto tight. This Bruno Mars opening slot, sparked by online buzz, was proof of that.
Alice’s initial footage was meant for this exact purpose, but she wasn’t a pro music manager. How could she catch all these details? Uploading clips was just a spark of inspiration, not a full-on promo strategy.
Aaron didn’t seem to know much about the band’s backstory—probably hadn’t talked in-depth with Bruno or John. Tonight’s set had piqued his interest, so here he was. “You should book a studio ASAP, before this chance slips away.”
But the band couldn’t swing a studio right now—those hourly rates were way out of their league.
Aaron was just offering an outsider’s take, a manager’s perspective.
Chapter 160: Building Connections
When Cliff heard Allen’s objective opinion, his expression shifted slightly. A flicker of struggle passed between his brows as he seemed to realize, perhaps for the first time, that he’d misjudged the situation and twisted Allen’s original intent. But it was too late to backtrack now, leaving Cliff caught in a moment of hesitation, unsure of what to do or say. Just as he was trying to convince himself to stop overthinking and calm down, Allen’s voice broke through again, stirring up Cliff’s inner conflict once more.
“Recording a sound source is like making a cassette or CD back in the day—it gives you something tangible to show off your talent. It makes it easier for me to pitch you to record companies too. All I have to do is play the digital file. Things are so much simpler now than they used to be.”
Allen said this with a smile.
“In the music world, I know a few people. We sometimes chat over afternoon tea, and they’re always eager to spot young talent. If you’ve got the time, I could even set up a meeting for you—sit down and have a proper talk.”
What?
What?!
The pace of this was so fast, so intense, it was hard to keep up. Minds raced but couldn’t process it all, leaving heads spinning in a brief blank daze.
Cliff instinctively held his breath and glanced at Maxim, but Maxim didn’t have an answer either. Instead, he looked toward Ronan. Cliff followed suit, his eyes silently asking: What exactly does Allen mean?
They’d completely forgotten that Ronan, just like them, was meeting Allen for the first time tonight. What they didn’t understand, Ronan wouldn’t either.
“Ronan, what’s he talking about?”
Ollie’s wide-eyed question slipped out, his shock and surprise impossible to hide. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he clamped it shut, his eyes nearly popping out—how had his thoughts just spilled out like that?
The sudden outburst shattered the room’s delicate balance.
Every pair of eyes in the lounge snapped toward Ollie, making him the center of attention. Flustered, he straightened up, feet together, chest puffed out like a soldier, though his gaze drifted upward, dodging everyone’s stares in a desperate bid to shift the focus.
“Haha!” Allen burst into cheerful laughter, completely unfazed. “What I mean is, I see potential in you guys. I’d love to play the role of your guide, connect you with the right people, and maybe bask in a little of your glow. Who knows? It could lead to some profit down the line or add a shiny badge to my resume. So, I’m jumping at the chance.”
Then, with a playful shrug, Allen spread his hands. “Collecting badges and gold coins—it’s a hobby us Jews share with dragons.”
Honest and funny; sincere yet confident.
Allen had a knack for this. What could’ve been a tricky moment—admitting he was chasing profit—came off so naturally it didn’t offend anyone. His witty charm effortlessly lightened the mood in the lounge, overshadowing his appearance and letting his personality shine through.
Even Ollie, who usually clammed up around strangers, cracked a grin. His booming, contagious laugh erupted, “Hahaha!”—a sound so loud it startled everyone, drawing their gazes back to him. Suddenly self-conscious again, Ollie tried to shrink into himself, stifling his laughter with effort. But that only made the others laugh harder, their eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity at his outburst.
“Allen…” Ronan finally spoke up. Alice was busy filming, so she wasn’t in a position to jump in. She’d given Ronan a signal, and he stepped forward—though he wasn’t sure what to say. The excitement and joy surging in his chest left his mind blank for a moment.
“Thank you,” he managed at last, then repeated it. “Thank you.”
It was a simple phrase, but Allen could hear the depth of emotion behind it. “No need. I haven’t done anything yet—just talked. You’re the ones who stood on that stage, creating something with your talent and gifts. You’re the geniuses under the spotlight.”
That reality sank in slowly, a bittersweet mix of emotions lingering on their tongues, hard to put into words.
Only now did they fully grasp Allen’s intentions. He was an agent, driven by profit, sure—but he saw profit in One Day Kings. That meant he saw their value, their talent, their strength. He saw something worth chasing.
The band had earned his recognition.
Yes, it was about “profit first,” but Allen’s attitude didn’t feel the least bit offensive. Quite the opposite—it stirred a rush of gratitude and excitement that pulsed through their chests.
Ronan glanced at his bandmates. Cliff hung his head, his expression hidden. Ollie turned away from the crowd. Maxim took deep breath after deep breath. They were all trying so hard to keep their emotions in check, but it wasn’t easy—not even for Ronan.
His nose tingled slightly, but he forced a smile and turned to Allen and John. “Honestly… when John sent us that email, we were on the verge of calling it quits. Maybe a week, two at most, and we’d have been back in L.A., slipping into normal lives—drawing a line under it all, giving up on the music dream, treating it like it’d just been a fantasy.”
Ronan knew he was veering off-topic. This wasn’t what Allen wanted to hear, and it didn’t connect to what Allen had said. But he needed to say it. These were the thoughts flooding his mind, spilling out naturally.
From the heart.
The man standing in front of them was just an agent—not some top-tier mogul or industry legend. But his validation meant the world to the band. After all the ups and downs, it was a genuine acknowledgment.
“We’d been at it for seven years, but we never… never got that affirmation. We started doubting ourselves, wondering if it was time to let go, time to walk away. Maybe this path wasn’t for us. We couldn’t even talk about it with each other—because once we did, it felt like the end was the only option. Like it was time to wrap things up.”
“But…”
Ronan’s gaze landed on John-Mark, who met him with a warm, uplifted smile. That gentle light in John’s eyes tugged Ronan’s own smile wider. “But John’s email changed everything. It sparked a little hope.”
Thirteenth update.
Chapter 161: Genuine Heart
As he spoke, Ronan kept a smile on his face the whole time. Those bright, clear eyes gazed at Aaron with an open and sincere look. But there was a faint tremble in his voice, a subtle hint of emotion slipping through despite his efforts to hold it back. It was hard to pin down exactly what it felt like—bitterness mixed with a touch of quiet sadness, like a single ray of sunlight piercing through the heavy gloom of a long winter day.
“But then John’s email came, and it changed everything. It sparked a little hope for us—how could we possibly say no? We wanted to agree right away, afraid you’d change your mind. So we hopped on a plane as fast as we could, not giving you any chance to back out.” Ronan glanced at John, and as he spoke, a grin spread across his face.
John, though, could see so much more behind that smile—layers of helplessness that reminded him of that late-night phone call. It made him chuckle too.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ollie standing nearby. The guy had turned his back to them completely. At 185 centimeters tall, he stood like a solid black tower, but his slightly shaking shoulders gave away that he was secretly wiping his eyes. It was both funny and bittersweet to John, and his own smile carried a hint of that same mixed emotion.
More than that, in just the past week, John hadn’t held out much hope. Yet he’d watched this band pull off intense rehearsals in a rush and then deliver an absolutely stunning performance on tonight’s concert stage. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration.
Like Ronan said, this was a band full of hunger and urgency. Behind his casual words hid so much more.
“Now, not only did we perform in front of ten thousand people and earn their applause, but we’re also getting an even bigger opportunity? Trust me, we’ll grab this chance with everything we’ve got. So you guys better watch out—you might not be able to shake us off that easily.”
Ronan’s words had a playful, self-mocking edge that made both Aaron and John burst out laughing.
The curve of Ronan’s smile softened as he spoke again, this time more seriously. “So, thank you, Aaron. Thanks for giving us this shot. Of course we’ve got time—for God’s sake, time’s the only thing we do have. If there’s someone we can meet, we’ll race over there in a heartbeat. Believe me, I mean it.”
This time, Aaron didn’t brush it off with polite words.
To him, it was just business—a connection to make, a favor to offer, nothing more than a small gesture that left a good impression. But for One Day Kings, it was a ray of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, a real chance to turn their career around.
What struck him most was how Ronan laid it all out there, so honest and unguarded—no schemes, no hidden agendas, just pure sincerity. It was almost too sincere, the kind of openness that could get you chewed up and spit out in the entertainment world. You could tell right away this was a young band still green around the edges, showing all their cards without a second thought.
Aaron thought about warning Ronan, telling him he didn’t need to expose his vulnerabilities like that. But as he looked into Ronan’s eyes and saw the flicker of emotion there, he held back.
From start to finish, Ronan kept smiling, calmly recounting the struggles of those dark days. His light tone carried a quiet strength and resilience that reminded Aaron of the first time he’d met Bruno.
Bruno and Ronan were cut from the same cloth—dreamers with a pure love for music. Lately, though, Bruno had lost his way under the pressures of fame and fortune. Maybe—just maybe—this band could reignite that spark in him. And that purity, that passion, was what kept them running forward. If they got too slick and cunning, would they still be themselves? Or would they end up like Bruno, tumbling into a bottomless pit of darkness?
With that thought, Aaron swallowed his words. That kind of innocent heart was so rare. Let Ronan hold onto it. Instead, what came out was, “Well, you guys better step up then. I’m putting my reputation on the line recommending you, so you’ve got to bring your A-game.”
Ronan let out a goofy laugh, running a hand through his damp short hair. He didn’t say much, but a quiet confidence shone in his eyes.
That look made John, standing nearby, chuckle too. He jumped in with a tease. “They messed up big-time at the start of tonight’s show—total rookie move—but they still pulled it off perfectly. They even turned it into a chance to fire up the whole crowd. With a performance like that, I’m pretty sure they can handle anything.”
Ronan shook his head earnestly. “No, no, no, that’s only on stage. Did you see how we fumbled this conversation just now? We were all shoving the responsibility onto each other. Clearly, none of us can handle this kind of thing.” He trailed off, scrunching his face in mock disgust.
The whole group erupted in laughter. Ollie laughed the loudest, carefree and booming, while Cliff and Maxim doubled over. The infectious sound had everyone rolling with laughter.
Aaron grinned wide and extended a friendly invite. “Let’s put everything else aside for now. Tonight’s all about the concert. Bruno’s set is about to start—how about it? You guys ready? The real party’s just getting started.”
“Woohoo! Woohoo!” Ronan couldn’t hold back his excitement, bouncing up and down. “Yes, yes! Concert time!”
Performing live and watching a show live were two totally different experiences, even if they both happened on a stage. He’d always, always wanted to see a concert in person, to feel the energy of thousands of people losing themselves in the music together. That kind of stage was the real party, and tonight he finally had the chance—Bruno’s concert, no less. How could he pass that up?
Task one tonight was warming up the crowd, and they’d nailed it. Now it was time for task two: enjoying the show. It was the thing he’d been looking forward to most since the darkness started to lift.
A free concert with ten thousand people? Ronan was already rubbing his hands together, ready to dive in.
“Let’s go! Let’s go! Party time!” Ronan shouted at Aaron and John, still hopping around, rallying everyone to join the celebration. He was even more hyped than Aaron.
Update 14
(End of Chapter)
