"Encore!"
"Encore!"
The entire crowd roared, their deafening chants resonating through the bustling streets of New York. Yet, the star of the show had already vanished.
He left—just turned around and walked away, so carefree, so unrestrained. There was no nostalgia, no looking back. He simply waved his hand, taking nothing with him, not even a cloud in the sky.
The heat and excitent still surged, but Blair was utterly stunned.
Karen, concerned, called out, "Blair, are you okay?"
Blair snapped out of it, a smile creeping up her face. "I'm fine, of course. It's just that... I like Anson even more now. He's not just a pretty face. My God, I'm totally crazy about him."
Karen could see that Blair was serious—her eyes didn't lie.
And this ti, Karen agreed. Instinctively, she turned her head toward the crowd in front of them, still buzzing with excitent. That sense of freedom, exhilaration, and happiness lingered in the air. Even without the performance, the afterglow remained.
Anson's figure flashed through Karen's mind again, and she felt her blood boil.
"He's an angel," Karen nodded gently, the words spilling out naturally.
Turning back, Karen saw Blair's bright, playful smile. Her own cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't shy away. She spread her hands wide and confidently admitted her mistake.
"Okay, I made a huge mistake earlier. Thank goodness we didn't miss Anson."
"Oh my God, I get it—completely. That performance was perfect. Anson really is…"
She paused, searching for the right words but found none. She instinctively looked at Blair, and the two exchanged a glance before screaming together.
"Ahhh!"
What could be more expressive than that?
No words could describe the experience they'd just had. It was both a shock and a blessing, leaving them utterly captivated, bringing tears of joy for their dreams and cheers for life.
Thinking about it—
"Ahhh!"
Every cell in Karen's body scread. Her soul trembled slightly. Life was complicated and frustrating; that was the truth. But sotis, they could choose simplicity.
Then Karen lost control of herself.
"Dear, dear!"
Blair looked at Karen in confusion. Karen raised the handheld cara in her hand, t Blair's gaze, and bead, nodding firmly.
Blair gasped, covering her mouth.
Karen's eyes twinkled with joy as she confird once again.
"I recorded everything."
"Of course, so parts got a little shaky because I was so excited, and the focus is probably off. By the end, I couldn't help but jump up, so the footage is probably a ss."
"But!"
"I got it all."
Blair nodded frantically, wildly even. Without making a sound, it was clear she was screaming inside with all her might.
Before Karen could finish, Blair was already bouncing away. "Ho! Let's go ho right now! I need to see that footage imdiately. Right now!"
Karen burst out laughing, calling after her, "Wait!" as she chased after her.
Behind them, the crowd still surged with energy—
"Encore!"
"Encore!"
The cheers lingered for what seed like forever.
The street noise continued for another forty minutes before finally dying down.
Although Miles was the first to notice Anson's disappearance, the crowd's cheers left him no ti to react. He had to pull himself together and, along with Lily and Connor, perford three more songs even without the lead singer.
It wasn't much, but it was enough.
As the frenzy gradually subsided and people returned to their daily routines, the hustle and bustle finally cald down. It was hard to estimate the number of people in the crowd, but the constant stream was overwhelming. And there was an even more striking, undeniable sign—
The cello case was full.
Completely overflowing.
Usually, to create a tempting scene and draw so good fortune, they'd toss a few bills and coins into the case to get things started, then wait.
Just a short while ago, the coins and bills they had tossed into the cello case were still clearly visible. In fact, you could even tell which coins Connor had tossed in and which ones ca from Lily, while those two pitiful Andrew Jackson twenties? They were from Miles.
But now?
Bills were practically bubbling out like foam. Forget about the bottom of the case—at this point, you couldn't even see the cello case anymore. In just a brief performance, they had earned more money than they had in the past two years combined.
Every audience mber, regardless of how much they gave, had left their mark—
For the music, for the dream, and for every fool who still clung to hope in the dark.
But Miles knew this wasn't their achievent.
He lifted his head and exchanged a look with the others. Behind the joy, there was a sense of resignation. Connor was the first to break, "At least two-thirds of this is because of him. We can't... we can't keep it."
Neither Lily nor Miles said anything, but they shared the sa thought as Connor.
Lily took a deep breath. "Maybe that's why he left—because he knew this would happen."
Leaving without a word.
It was all like a dream, one that ca from nowhere and vanished just as suddenly.
Lily stared blankly for a mont. "So, did that really just happen? Or was it…" just a dream she'd had?
The three of them were frozen in place.
And it wasn't just them.
For New York, this afternoon felt like a beautiful, surreal dream as well.
In just thirty minutes, they had followed the trail of music down a rabbit hole. There, they found a place with no worries, no burdens, no pain, and no struggle. They had stopped to listen to their own hearts, awakening dreams that had long been buried under layers of dust. In that space, they let those dreams shine—freely, wildly, without holding back.
When the dream ended, and they returned to their everyday lives, the thorns still covered the path ahead. A brief escape couldn't solve all their problems. Reality wasn't a fairy tale. But at least, as they started moving forward again, their hearts were filled—warm with happiness and hope.
Dreams made life bearable.
In a city of eight million people, each person has their own joys and sorrows, their own story. Strangers, living their lives disconnected, had, for a brief mont, intersected in that rabbit hole. They had leaned on each other, ward each other, encouraged each other. And when they hit the road again, they knew for certain:
They weren't alone.
A ray of sunlight pierced through the fog and thick clouds, landing right on their hearts.
Maybe so, like Karen, noticed Anson's departure. Maybe many more didn't. But it didn't matter. Those notes were already engraved deep in their souls.
So what about the "instigator" behind it all?
Normally, "instigator" carries a negative connotation, implying sothing bad. Is it really appropriate here?
But think about it—disturbing the peace in others' hearts, ssing up their lives, and then leaving without a trace, without a way to contact him. He just walked away, carefree. This brief performance might beco a legend, sothing that lingers in people's minds. Isn't that the behavior of a classic heartbreaker?
A charming rogue, indeed.
So, should we "condemn" him? Fiercely, righteously, and with all due protest?
Where is the instigator now?
— End of Part Two.
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