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🕑 Added 2025-06-24 16:08:10 +0000 UTCChapter 198: Celebration Party
"Oh... her eyes, her eyes... make the brightest stars seem dim... mmm mmm mmm... you know... everyone's chasing the light..."
Ollie softly hummed a tuneless melody, the first part Bruno Mars, the second morphing into OneRepublic. Despite being two completely different songs, they were strangely connected without any awkwardness. Then, it transitioned into a whistle, which he executed flawlessly.
Clearly, Ollie was in a very good mood, and in fact, it wasn't just Ollie. Maxim and Ronan were also beaming, their spirits high.
Bruno's world tour, the Philadelphia stop, had concluded successfully; the Boston stop, also a success. This officially marked the perfect end to the global tour for "Love Ballad Chronicles." Bruno had finally finished his long, year-and-a-half tour and was now fully dedicated to preparing his second album.
At the same time, OneRepublic's opening performances had also come to a successful close. They had stepped in as a last-minute replacement when The Fray encountered unexpected issues, but their performance was top-notch. Their captivating stage presence earned them numerous praises and generated a considerable buzz. After the Boston show, Bruno even invited OneRepublic to join him on stage for an encore, truly signifying the end of the tour.
Tonight, the tour officially ended. Bruno returned to New York with his entire touring crew in high spirits for a grand celebration party. This marked the successful completion of their marathon tour, and both The Fray, who had finally returned to North America after their detour, and OneRepublic, who had bravely stepped in at the last minute and delivered a fantastic performance, were guests of honor at the party.
This was also OneRepublic's first time attending such a high-profile party, and they were understandably excited.
Driving back to New York from Boston, they arrived in Manhattan after midnight, the date having already flipped to the next day. But the celebration party hadn't started yet. OneRepublic first arrived at the hotel Bruno had arranged for them. After freshening up and changing into formal evening wear, they set off for the party venue.
It was already two in the morning, but they were still on their way to the celebration, clearly indicating a night of revelry ahead.
The luxurious stretch limousine cruised along the brightly lit streets of Manhattan. With the sunroof open, they stood up, the early autumn evening breeze blowing from the Hudson River, carrying a hint of coolness. But the dazzling city before them was still wide awake. The flashing neon lights reflected off the tall, silent steel and concrete jungle, outlining the silhouette of a mysterious world. Spreading their arms wide, the cold wind hit their faces, making them feel like they owned the city.
Despite trying to remain calm and avoid appearing too "country bumpkin," the truth was that while the band members had attended many parties, they had never experienced one quite like this. Starting in New York at two in the morning, the city seemed both bustling and silent, allowing them to witness a completely different side of the world's capital.
The band members could hardly hide their excitement and exhilaration. Perhaps Cliff was the only exception.
The perpetually tense Cliff was always prone to worrying and overthinking, fearing they would embarrass themselves at the celebration party. After all, this wasn't a performance stage but a top-tier party filled with celebrities, a far cry from OneRepublic's usual scene. So, he was lost in his own thoughts, unable to pull himself out.
"Cliff, instead of worrying, why don't you sing along with me? Ah ah ah, oh oh oh..." Ollie was completely hyped, humming an unknown tune, without any rhythm or structure, a melody that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. He grabbed Cliff's hands, inviting him to join in.
Cliff looked at Ollie with a helpless expression, using his eyes to convey his strong protest.
"Hahaha." Ollie, in a state of complete excitement, laughed loudly, ignoring Cliff's gaze but releasing his hands and not pressing further.
Ronan looked at Cliff's speechless expression and didn't offer any grand advice. Instead, he simply raised both hands and made a gesture of pushing up towards the ceiling, saying, "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah," as if he were already at the party. His vivid expression made Cliff laugh helplessly.
Cliff understood the logic. A party is a party, and enjoying it to the fullest is the only truth. But anxiety is anxiety, and Cliff still couldn't completely relax. He followed Ronan and Ollie's cheering gestures, feeling slightly better, and then turned to look at the night view outside the window.
It had to be said that despite having traveled through so many cities in North America, no other city's night view could compare to New York's.
Hidden beneath the bright lights were countless lonely stories. The vast space collectively held the contradictory emotions of noise and silence, and amidst the winding streets filled with traffic, people wrote their own lives, feeling small and insignificant in the face of such grandeur.
Slowly, the stretch limousine pulled up in front of a magnificent, brightly lit building. The band members got out one after another.
Ronan looked around, the city shrouded in night feeling so unfamiliar. The indistinct lights blurred the meaning of space, making it difficult to determine where he was, even doubting if he was still on the island of Manhattan or had entered a dream.
Beneath the city's prosperity always lay another world that outsiders couldn't see.
"Wow."
The exclamation escaped involuntarily. Ronan was a beat late in noticing that Ollie and Cliff had already walked towards the entrance, one after the other. So, he and Maxim quickly followed suit. As they got closer, they realized that this didn't seem like the club or bar they had imagined, but more like—
An apartment.
The kind of high-end private apartment where a crimson carpet led to a jet-black door. The lighting was luxurious but the decor was understated. The golden doorknob and dark green accents outlined the weight of history. The brick-red walls on either side of the door showed traces of time, further emphasizing its historical significance.
At the entrance, a security guard in a crisp black suit stood watch like a hotel doorman, or perhaps more accurately, like the concierge of a high-end private residence.
From the venue alone, they could sense that Bruno's celebration party was different. This was definitely a world the band had never encountered before.
"...What did you say? How could that not work? We are..."
"Wait, we never heard anything about needing an invitation..."
The wind carried the sound of an argument from ahead. Maxim looked at Ronan, exchanged a glance, and quickly walked over. Ronan also slightly quickened his pace.
"Ollie, Ollie! Calm down." Maxim grabbed the agitated Ollie. Because of Ollie's build, taking a step forward looked like he was about to roll up his sleeves for a fight, which definitely made the situation tense. "What's going on?"
"He's refusing to let us in, saying we absolutely need an invitation..." Ollie didn't even turn his head, glaring at the man in the black suit, expressing his strong dissatisfaction.
Chapter 199: Nobodies
Invitations?
Honestly, they hadn't heard anything about invitations. To be more precise, they didn't even know the location of the party. From the Boston concert venue, the TD Garden, the band's entire itinerary had been arranged by Bruno's agent, Allen Be-Shuk. They had no idea where they were or where they were going next, just following the driver around.
Everything had been arranged perfectly, including the hotels and outfit changes, but now they were being stopped at the entrance of the party venue?
Clearly, Ollie had clashed with the man in the black suit, but Maxim and Ronan hadn't followed immediately and didn't know what was going on. To avoid escalating the situation, Maxim stopped Ollie in time, while Ronan quickly caught up. They could hear Cliff trying to talk to the man in the black suit.
"...Is this the location for Bruno's tour celebration party?"
However, Cliff's way of asking revealed their "clueless" predicament. The man in the black suit looked serious and said matter-of-factly, "Only those with invitations can enter and exit here."
Although the black suit's words didn't carry any particular emotion, Ronan was very, very familiar with his eyes and expression—
Contempt. Disdain. And... pity.
Once, after Ronan lost his hearing, the world fell silent, and he could see more clearly. Later, as his vision began to blur, the sincerity hidden beneath the surface became even clearer. At this moment, he was all too familiar with the look in the black suit's eyes.
The man in the black suit didn't believe them.
It was that simple.
The man in the black suit assumed they were "party crashers," maybe fans, maybe groupies, maybe paparazzi... but definitely not party guests. Instead, they were "uninvited guests who had sneaked in, trying to take advantage of the situation," in other words, intruders.
Actually, this view was questionable.
The location of Bruno's private celebration party was completely confidential. Moreover, they had returned to New York from Boston, and even the paparazzi hadn't anticipated the Bruno tour team's itinerary, let alone enthusiastic fans. At this moment, there was no one to be seen on the street near the entrance.
The band members were standing at the entrance, and they were the only group of people around. If they were "party crashers," it was a bit of a stretch.
But the man in the black suit didn't think so. He was very certain that his judgment was correct and even refused to communicate, effectively sealing the band's fate.
Pity, in essence, is a condescending attitude, believing that one has seen through their tricks, yet they still struggle like clowns.
Cliff might not have felt it as directly and clearly as Ronan, but he could still sense the uncomfortable aura emanating from the man in the black suit. His voice rose slightly. "The limousine parked on the side of the road was personally sent by Mr. Allen Be-Shuk. You can ask the driver directly. We are indeed invited guests to Bruno's party."
"Only those with invitations can enter and exit here."
"We are the opening act for Bruno's concert. We just finished the show in Boston with Bruno and came straight here."
"Only those with invitations can enter and exit here."
Cliff tried to communicate, but the man in the black suit was like a robot. Once the program was entered, there was only one way to respond. The mechanical answer even omitted polite terms like "sorry," "please," and "thank you." There was only a stiff and cold stock phrase, which not only left Cliff with no room for dialogue but also slowly revealed the disdain in his bones.
"You!" Cliff's temper flared up. He couldn't believe the other person only had one answer.
After just three back-and-forths, it felt like hitting a wall. Even a clay Buddha would have some anger, let alone Cliff, who wasn't known for his good temper.
Ronan didn't stop Cliff. Instead, he stepped forward, physically interrupting, standing between Cliff and the man in the black suit. He sized the man up and down, even moved closer to try and get a good look at the man's pupils. The sudden closing of the distance startled the man in the black suit. He seemed to feel the heat of Ronan's breath and took a big step back, looking at Ronan with a livid face.
"What are you doing?"
For the first time, a look of panic appeared on the black suit's face. But Ronan didn't laugh at him. Instead, he looked serious and said with sudden realization, "So you're not a robot after all. I thought it was an intelligent voice system. It only had one way of responding, maybe there was a short circuit or something."
Pfft...
Ollie almost burst out laughing, but after making a sound, he immediately realized that he should maintain an angry state, so he glared at the man in the black suit again.
The man in the black suit also realized that Ronan's attack had disrupted his balance. The continuous backward steps had shattered his professional image, and even his expression became slightly embarrassed. Then, his expression turned serious again, and he sternly reprimanded, "Do you know what you're doing?"
The man in the black suit straightened up and took another step forward, like two bulls about to collide, seemingly about to crash head-on with Ronan.
Ollie and Cliff immediately stepped forward. Maxim hesitated whether he should stop his teammates, but after a moment of hesitation, he also moved forward. Then they stood behind Ronan, confronting the man in the black suit.
In fact, even with just Ronan himself, his slender figure didn't lose out at all when standing in front of the black suit's burly physique. He not only didn't back down but even leaned forward slightly. The clash of their auras sparked. However, there was no fierce expression on Ronan's face. A faint smile hung on the corner of his lips, making him look innocent and harmless.
"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you: do you know what you're doing?"
The man in the black suit was taken aback by this question and couldn't help but stammer. He subconsciously prepared to fight back, but Ronan's speaking rhythm was very peculiar. He paused for a moment, and noticing the man in the black suit taking a breath, just before he was about to speak, Ronan spoke again, forcibly interrupting his rhythm.
"Is it really because you need an invitation, or is it because you think the four of us are nobodies that you don't recognize, so you're deliberately making things difficult for us?"
A smiling sentence like this tore apart the mask hiding the black suit's true thoughts:
Even if invitations were indeed required and the man in the black suit was indeed doing his job, there were many correct and appropriate ways for him to fulfill his duties, but clearly, he had no intention of doing so. So, what was the reason behind it?
The man in the black suit's rhythm had been completely disrupted, first physically, then mentally. Although he still maintained a professional poker face, the true tone of his voice had already revealed itself. "I said, only those with invitations can enter and exit here." The same words came out again, but this time it didn't end there. "This is a private residence, not a place where just any nobody can enter."
Tear!
The black suit's plain words couldn't hide the contempt and disdain in his heart. He clearly didn't think that the young men in front of him could be guests at the party. The scrutiny deep in his eyes was the greatest insult. In that instant, Cliff's face flushed red, as if he might explode at any moment.
Ollie couldn't believe his ears even more. His fists clenched again, and he looked at Ronan. As long as Ronan said a word, he would immediately step forward and teach this guy a lesson.
But these actions, in the eyes of the man in the black suit, only made his mocking and sarcastic expression even more obvious. The mask could no longer conceal it.
Chapter 200: On the Verge of Losing Control
Ronan felt a dull thud in his chest, and the first thought that flashed through his mind was—
Thank goodness Alice didn't come.
Because the celebration party was a private event, Alice couldn't bring her camera in to film. Although Bruno had also invited Alice to join them, she chose to rest and relax at the hotel. She never had much interest in parties anyway, and this spared her from standing on the street with them, facing humiliation.
Up ahead, a hint of contempt and mockery flickered in those calm eyes. Ollie's uncontrollable anger only confirmed his judgment, and the black-suited man's gaze grew even firmer, radiating disdain and ridicule from the depths of his being. It was the same look Ronan had seen from strangers when, after losing his hearing, he stubbornly insisted that he still wanted to sing, still wanted to create, still wanted to chase his dreams.
Close friends offered pitying sympathy, while distant strangers showed scorn and derision, like looking at ants foolishly trying to move an elephant—a slight sting to the skin.
But the current Ronan was strong and resilient enough. He wouldn't be hurt by those glances, those looks, because they weren't worth it. Thankfully, Alice hadn't joined them for the party and didn't have to face such gazes or endure such treatment.
Ollie and Maxim, who were watching Ronan, could both sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. The Ronan who usually wore a warm smile still had a faint curve to his lips, but his eyes had become sharp and piercing, radiating an unshakeable power.
Facing the black-suited man, the corners of Ronan's lips turned up slightly. He didn't respond to Ollie's eye signal, knowing that force was never the best option in such situations. "You still haven't answered my question. Is an invitation truly required, or is this your personal decision? If you don't deign to answer, we can call Bruno or Allen right now and see what's going on."
His casual words revealed a hidden integrity, firm and unyielding. The power concealed within his bright eyes couldn't be ignored.
But the black-suited man wasn't buying it. He seemed to have already seen through Ronan's actions, letting out a sneer as his contemptuous gaze became completely undisguised. "You think you're clever, don't you? You think you can fool everyone, right? But nobodies are nobodies. Your composure and confidence won't change that."
The black-suited man's mask had finally fallen, revealing his true colors.
"I don't know you, I don't know any of you. I've never heard of OneRepublic. Now, anyone who pops out of some corner can claim to be a band, claim to be musicians, and then think they live under the spotlight, that everyone needs to revolve around them. But in reality, you're just clowns."
His words had become blades, launching a merciless attack on Ronan and the others, his eyes filled with ingrained scorn.
The black-suited man's gaze lightly swept over the other three, finally landing back on Ronan. "You're just nobodies. Putting on makeup and clothes doesn't make you people, just like those streetwalkers outside Forty-second Street. You'll never change your true nature."
Arrows struck hard at their hearts. Cliff's face instantly turned deathly pale, devoid of any color. Ollie opened his mouth, trying to say something, but ultimately failed. Maxim, hidden behind Ollie, kept his expression unreadable.
Even in their anger, they couldn't refute him.
More accurately, the angrier they were, the more ashamed and embarrassed they felt—because they all knew that their anger stemmed from the truth hitting a raw nerve:
They were indeed nobodies.
Ronan was the only exception.
Compared to the pain he had experienced in his previous life, this kind of attack was nothing but a drizzle.
The black-suited man didn't like Ronan's gaze. It was like a cat toying with a mouse. Just when it had the mouse pinned under its paw, it realized the mouse wasn't afraid at all, and the fun was gone. "If you can call Mr. Mars, then I suggest you do it quickly."
The black-suited man was convinced they were a group of imposters, certain of his judgment. He cut straight to the chase, like the final move in a chess game:
Checkmate!
Ronan looked at the smug black-suited man, his gaze not dimming but growing brighter, like the North Star in the night sky. "Sir, you should know that the world you know isn't the entire world. Only a frog at the bottom of a well believes that the sky it sees is the whole sky. Just because you don't know us doesn't mean we can't be guests at Bruno's party."
The black-suited man's expression froze for a moment, then his eyes flared with anger again, as if he were the one who had been humiliated.
But Ronan had no intention of continuing the argument. Faced with such prejudice and contempt, verbal disputes were meaningless and ineffective. He needed to strike at the root of the problem. So, Ronan took two steps back, pulled out his phone, and prepared to call Allen to find out what was going on.
The black-suited man noticed Ronan's action and seemed to sense something. Before his brain could fully process it, his angry voice rang out again. "Get out of here! Get out of here right now!"
His rude words teetered on the edge of losing control. He raised his hand, took a step forward, and prepared to push Ronan aside. But Ollie caught sight of the man's movement in an instant. He lunged forward and got into a defensive stance, quickly shielding Ronan. At the same time, he raised his right fist high, and a physical confrontation seemed inevitable.
"What's going on here?"
A surprised and bewildered voice rang out from the side. From the sense of space, they could feel hesitant footsteps retreating slightly, creating distance to avoid getting caught in the conflict.
All eyes turned towards the source of the voice. Ollie's movements were becoming erratic, and Maxim didn't have time to grab him. It was Ronan who managed to hug Ollie in time, preventing Ollie's fist from directly hitting the black-suited man's jaw—otherwise, the celebration party would have turned into a bloody accident.
"Ronan?"
"Ronan Cooper from OneRepublic?"
"What are you doing here? What happened?"
A series of questions overlapped, but Ollie was still struggling. "Ronan, don't stop me. I need to teach this guy a lesson. He can't humiliate us like this." But all other gazes had been drawn to the newly arrived voice, including the black-suited man's.
"Mr. Cammor?"
That was the black-suited man's voice.
