The backstage area served as a resting place, where staff had set up portable frames and a canopy, placing plastic chairs underneath for performers to take a break.
The band's performance was well received, earning prolonged applause after their set.
Looking out at the sea of four to five hundred people clapping simultaneously, the feeling was completely different from performing in a small venue.
The overwhelming sense of accomplishment was exhilarating.
After bowing in gratitude and stepping off the stage, a number of audience members rushed to the side, asking for autographs and photos.
This was likely due to the promotional tweets they had posted earlier, calling for support.
Many of those who came were probably hardcore fans who had previously watched their performances up close at Starry.
Notably, among the four members of the band, the most popular was not the lead vocalist, Ikuyo, who had the most prominent stage presence.
Instead, it was the usually expressionless bassist, Ryo.
Chisato, who was helping out as a staff member to maintain order, couldn't comprehend it at first.
Why did this idiot have such a strong fan-attracting ability?
She was just a freeloader who always borrowed money for food.
However, when one particularly obsessed fan, after getting Ryo's autograph, shyly asked, "Can you look at me with contempt and insult me?"—and Ryo, after a brief moment of hesitation, did exactly that—
Chisato finally understood.
Watching that fan's face flush with excitement, and the restless anticipation spreading among the crowd behind him, it all suddenly made sense.
It sounded absurd, but there were, in fact, people like this.
People who craved being scolded and humiliated by a beautiful, dignified woman.
In his previous world, there had been hordes of grown men chasing after a middle-aged guy just to hear him say "wdnmd"—could you believe that?
Ryo's outward persona was simply too misleading, causing many fans to misunderstand her appeal.
But it didn't really matter. A misunderstanding was fine.
She had walked this path ever since joining the band, and surely, she had long accepted that something like this would eventually happen.
After all, what public figure didn't have a persona or a carefully maintained stage voice for their audience?
She should just keep it up. She'd get used to it over time.
After nearly an hour of fan interactions, the band finally wrapped things up and retreated backstage for a break.
It was already past 2 PM. They had been on the go since morning, traveling from the store to the festival venue, and hadn't had time for lunch.
The festival had several food stalls set up in a centralized area, but they weren't free.
However, right now, the four members of the band just wanted to rest—especially Ikuyo.
During the latter half of her performance, it was clear she was struggling. Her breathing was uneven, and she had trouble hitting some of the higher notes.
That was when the pre-packed bread and sushi from earlier finally came in handy. It wasn't about eating something delicious—just filling their stomachs and replenishing their energy.
After all, they still had more performances to go.
Just then, a festival staff member responsible for scheduling approached them, praising their performance and informing them that a scheduled act had been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances.
He asked if they'd be willing to take the slot.
Of course, it wasn't mandatory. If they declined, he could find someone else.
Nijika hesitated.
Getting an extra opportunity to perform was always good, but the real question was whether Ikuyo could handle it.
Just as she was wavering, Ikuyo, who had been sitting silently, stood up and accepted the offer.
And just like that, their schedule now included an additional performance at 4 PM, on top of their originally planned 7 PM show.
Even though each performance only lasted about ten minutes—not counting audience interactions—singing two or three songs per set was still a significant challenge for the already exhausted Ikuyo.
But since she had made the decision herself, the others could only support her.
While the rest of the band rested, Chisato left to buy some throat lozenges for Ikuyo.
Seika quietly followed him.
She said nothing the entire way, simply watching him in silence.
After a while, her persistent gaze made him uncomfortable enough to turn his head away in surrender.
"Manager, could you please stop looking at me like that?"
Seika nodded.
"I can, but first, answer one question."
"Alright, go ahead."
"You have such an incredible voice—one that even someone as picky about vocals as I am would call breathtaking.
So why don't you sing and release your own songs, instead of giving them to those four girls?"
A few hours earlier…
At that time, Seika had been abruptly pulled into the van by Chisato.
No man had ever been so rough with her before, and in such a confined space, no less.
As her body temperature subtly rose and her thoughts began drifting in a… slightly off direction—
Chisato, oblivious to her reaction, simply took out his phone and played a song he had composed but hadn't released yet.
Seika was completely dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, Chisato remained serious.
"I've never sung in front of anyone before, so I'm not sure about this. I'd like your feedback."
Before she could respond, he began singing.
The moment he opened his mouth, Seika's pupils dilated, her raised hand freezing mid-air before slowly lowering.
After he finished, she gave a single-word review: "Perfect."
It was one thing to be talented in composition and lyric writing—but to have such an outstanding voice as well?
Was he just spoon-fed talent by the heavens?
Seika was at a loss for words.
She absolutely did not believe his claim of never having sung in front of anyone before.
She had wanted to question him further, but he had deftly evaded her with, "They're about to perform—we need to get back."
And now, she had finally caught a moment of opportunity.
Chisato let out a helpless sigh in response to her question.
The real reason his voice was so outstanding was due to a previous reward from the Pure Love System—Heavenly Voice.
Just from the name alone, one could roughly guess its effect. But, of course, there was no way he could tell her that.
As for why he didn't sing himself, whether before or now, his thoughts hadn't changed.
Having others earn money for him was obviously the best. He needed to dedicate his limited time to more important matters.
Specifically, Kazusa, Eriri, Hitori, and Utaha.
All of them were equally important, without any particular ranking.
But explaining it that way was completely impossible.
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50 advanced chapters on p@t re on (.) com/SenatusTheta
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