Artifact Report

Chapter 392 Me: Night and the Milky Way
I am never modest.

In the spotlight-lit arena of fame and fortune, humility is like a doormat placed at the entrance; a symbolic wipe before entering is enough.

It won't be needed in the fight that follows once you enter.

I have never been modest; although I have always had a lingering doubt as to why I became famous overnight.
Music is my sanctuary, my holy temple, and also my accomplice; it is the spear I use to pierce the heart of humanity.

My fans say I must be the world's biggest sadist.

I use music to sting and torment people, to crumple and fold their souls; they say that after listening, it seems that no matter how much you try to smooth it out, their souls can never be restored to a clean, white sheet of paper.

From then on, shadows and dust had a place to settle.

...I was surprised that the market liked me, even though it didn't give me the attention that a newcomer shouldn't have.

In an interview, I bluntly stated, "Has the market's taste suddenly improved? Is it revenge on my music that people like me on one hand and pop songs on the other?"

I was just about to list a few famous singers as examples when my manager shoved me on the shoulder before I could even utter the first name, and I almost bit my tongue.

I don't know if it's because of my music or my personality, but the people who hate me seem to have developed a swarm of cockroaches that have developed resistance to drugs. Overnight, they multiply and reproduce hundreds or thousands of times, forming a huge, monotonous mass of identical faces.

"This is the first time I've heard such a self-important musician," "It feels like a mess," "Such a depressing song, doesn't it make you feel uncomfortable?" "I don't understand it, people who like her are just following the trend"...

Some people even wrote long comments expressing their hatred for me, but their hatred was so vulgar and they were completely unaware of it.

Leaving such comments is like self-exposure; turning them into shallow puddles that I can see to the bottom with a single glance.

The only slightly original criticism that caught my attention was one that suddenly appeared recently. Their words were indeed quite novel—"She is the voice of evil in the end times! No one who fears God should tolerate the existence of such a person. She is a lackey of Antichrist and an enemy of all evangelicals!"

I actually have this kind of magical power? Please, have mercy, you've sent rapists to the White House.

Naturally, my agent was furious after I said that out loud.

"You've only gained a little fame, yet you're already acting like one. You're not even a big shot, but you're quick to act like one! Others act like lunatics because he's an established male singer. Do you think you can get the same preferential treatment just because you talk nonsense? You're not qualified to gain popularity through controversy!"

She strictly forbade me from saying anything out of turn; in interviews and on shows, I could only read from the script.

I had no choice but to comply—I have many fans who like me, but their appreciation is not accompanied by strong aggression, so their voices in my defense are very quiet; I can only try my best not to go too far.

There was only one time I didn't follow the script.

That was when I was a guest on a late-night talk show, and the host asked me what my work goals were for the coming year.

The things my manager prepared were like plain water, meaningless once spoken; I'm not willing for my music and myself to be diluted by plain water.

"I want to hold an open-air concert, in the sky." I blurted it out on a whim. Anyway, it's not a controversial topic, so it doesn't really matter.

"The sky?" the host asked.

“Yes, I’ve loved climbing since I was a child, and I’ve tried extreme sports like bungee jumping and skydiving several times.” I laughed. “Aren’t there often videos online of people walking on the edge of building exteriors? I’ve done that too. The highest I ever did was walking on the exterior wall of the 25th floor, clinging to the window for three minutes.”

I said I wanted to set up a rope net between the buildings in the busiest commercial district; I wanted to jump off the roof and into the neon lights and night of Blackmore City.

Amidst the gazing and cheers of millions, I will fall into mid-air, captured by the air.

I will wander among the buildings, passing over the heads of countless listeners, making every street corner speaker resonate with my music, and tremble the brightly lit night sky of Blackmore City.

"What a grand idea!" the host said with a polite smile. "I hope you can hold it successfully, and I will definitely come to watch."

I laughed too: "The company doesn't know about my plan yet. This is the first time I've brought it up, and I don't know if it will work."

"……no."

This word did not come from my agent or record company.

It comes from mercury.

To be honest, when I saw the caller ID, for a moment I didn't even remember who Mercury was. After I answered, before I could even say hello, I heard her say almost calmly, "The Sky Concert can't be held."

"You watched the show?" I was both surprised and confused. "Why can't it be on?"

“It can’t open for at least the next two years. Or maybe a few more years,” she said, sounding somewhat hesitant. “I’ll see in a few years.”

What are you looking at? It's not like I'm asking you to spend money or effort.

"I'm not that famous yet, so I can't do it for now," I said. "I only have a small solo concert."

I couldn't see the mercury, but she suddenly became nervous on the phone. "A solo concert? When?"

"It'll be the end of this year," I said, removing my makeup, "and it's still in the preparation stage."

"In Blackmore City?"

“No, in the southern countryside.” I laughed. “Of course, in Blackmore City! Where else could possibly contain the demonic voice of this degenerate age?”

She didn't smile. After thinking for a moment, she said, "I want to see you."

I knew it wasn't some polite "I miss you so much, let's go out for dinner sometime." Besides, her tone was almost commanding—no, it was like she was telling me my schedule.

"...Why?" I asked in a low voice.

"Because your next turning point in life is a 'concert'."

The moment a siren opens her mouth, I have no choice but to walk towards her, mesmerized.

When I saw Mercury again, she had two names tattooed on her neck. I was just about to say that this habit of getting names tattooed as soon as you start dating would become funny after a few times when I suddenly realized that one of them was a girl's name.

...She's bisexual?
I don't know why, but I suddenly felt a little lost.

“Um,” I couldn’t help but gesture to my neck, “laser can actually remove tattoos, there’s no need to keep adding more…”

Mercury seemed not to hear.

"Your first concert is also the first turning point in your career. It can be a springboard for you." She looked at the wine in her glass and said, "But if it's held this year, your career will be cut short." "If you say such harsh things again, I'm leaving."

Mercury seemed helpless with me, and surprisingly let out a sigh. "You think I'm just talkative?"

"Then why did you say it?"

I was getting a little annoyed. My manager said I was very arrogant—but actually, I'd just learned to speak my mind. "What singer can stop being a singer just because they're doing a concert? What's your basis for saying that?"

“I don’t know.” Mercury frowned deeply and said, “I couldn’t find out.”

"Who did you ask? It wasn't some kind of nest or resident again, was it? If I said I couldn't work because of a nest, my company would definitely send me to a mental hospital."

Mercury stared at me for a few seconds.

She was unlike anyone I had ever met. Her aura... was thick and somber, like a gray tombstone standing in the night.

I later realized how accurate my intuitive analogy was.

Mercury slowly stood up, walked around the table, and came to me. We were sitting in a corner of a restaurant; I wasn't yet at the point where I would be recognized everywhere I went, and the restaurant was dimly lit and desolate.

She bent down, and the shadow blocked my view.

"Don't move," she whispered, as if she realized I wanted to hide.

She stared into my pupils as if the sky and sea were about to collapse, as if she were about to fall into my body.

I've never felt this fear, not even when I'm walking on the edge of a tall building.

When I am awakened, I will sink to the bottom of the sea and never see the light of day again.

"What...what are you doing?"

“I want to see if your shield is still on,” Mercury said, grabbing her backpack, looking a little anxious. “I’m leaving now, I’ll contact you again.”

Wait a minute, what?! They said something completely nonsensical, then left without explanation?

"So, is the cover still there?" I called out to her retreating figure.

Mercury stopped in his tracks and glanced back at me.

She stood amidst the dim shadows, just as I now stand in this dark river.

“…It’s all gone,” she said, looking almost bewildered. No, more like saddened. “Not a single thing is left. I’m sorry, I’ll try to figure something out.”

Isn't this a good thing? You can't become famous if you have a shield, right? Then don't bother trying to find a solution!
Before I could even say anything, she turned and left.

For a long time afterward, I didn't hear anything about Mercury.

To be honest, I didn't contact her proactively because I was just too busy—my new album was selling so well that I suspected there was some kind of conspiracy, and I was invited to events everywhere; looking at the ever-increasing number of clicks, it didn't feel like I was going to hold a concert, but rather like the world was begging me to.

The first small-scale solo concert, intended as a trial run, sold out within a day; the company quickly decided to add a few more shows—and after the first show, the venue would be moved from a small concert hall to a large stadium. Then, everything would be different.

When I leave the concert hall, I will be on the path to becoming a top-tier female singer.

I will truly rise into the night sky and merge into the star-studded Milky Way.

...That was the original plan.

I curled up into a ball, crouching behind the stage set, trembling violently, my jaw chattering, biting my lip until I was completely unaware, until I accidentally saw the blood on my arm and almost screamed out in fright.

...If we get caught, we're finished.

Not far from me, the backup dancer, dressed in a silver-white costume, looked like a thin leaf floating on the deep pool of his own blood.

Screams, cries, pleas, escape, the smell of blood, smoke...

And the relentless, never-ending sound of gunfire.

For a while, I was in a daze, thinking it was all just a fantasy, a nightmare. When I opened my eyes, I had to start preparing for my solo concert.

Hurry, wake me up! I don't want to sink here, please!

I still have many dreams and many songs I want to sing.

I squeezed my eyes shut, then squeezed them open again.

The corpse is still there.

Someone in the audience screamed, but the scream was cut off by a gunshot.

"...You will all die," someone screamed frantically. "If you don't find her, you will all die! Fans of the Devil's Voice don't deserve to live in this world!"

I only glanced at him from afar when he suddenly burst in and opened fire.

I couldn't see his face clearly; I only saw his weapons and magazines—even though I don't know much about weapons, I could tell they were of a battlefield quality.

But here, anyone with money can buy it. Anyone who wants to kill me can kill me.

"On stage!" one of the audience members, who had been clapping just moments before, cried out in anguish, "Please, let us go! I saw her run onto the stage—"

Amidst the scattering footsteps of those fleeing, one person is striding towards the stage.

If I could cry, I would probably shed tears.

But I couldn't cry.

If this is the last moment of my life, let me sing for a while in this concert hall that belongs to me, at my concert, facing corpses and emptiness.

When the song ends, I will rise into the sky and merge into the Milky Way.

(End of this chapter)