Michael, who felt that aura, knew what it meant and muttered, "Who is Dayo?"

Different questions flooded his head — Had he killed someone?

He had been in the industry for so long and had met all kinds of people. He could easily distinguish energy, and what he felt from Dayo wasn't ordinary. It was chilling — an aura that hinted Dayo had killed before. Not once, but maybe more than once. Yet he couldn't be sure.

Michael thought for a while, then picked up his phone.

"Hello, I need something done tonight," he said, sounding urgent.

"And what would that be?"

"Investigate Dayo Jason tonight. Everything — from the start. Check if he has any criminal record. Dig deep. I need answers tonight, and I'll triple your payment if you can get it on time."

The person on the other end paused before replying. "You know I don't like rush jobs… but I'll take it and get back to you."

Michael ended the call and rested his hand on the door, still baffled and unsettled by the way Dayo had looked at him.

As his thoughts drifted away, the sound of his phone vibrating pulled him back. Seeing the caller ID, he sat up immediately and answered.

"Good evening, ma." His voice lost the authority it had moments ago.

"Skip the pleasantries. Were you able to retrieve the information from him?"

Michael swallowed hard before replying, "No, ma, he—"

The voice cut him off sharply. "No excuses, Michael. You know the rule."

Michael held his words back. "Yes, ma."

"And your next line of action?"

He hesitated. Normally, he would have said he'd dismantle Dayo completely. But the feeling Dayo gave him earlier made him think twice.

"Michael, it seems you've grown soft," the woman said coldly. "Should I—"

"NO!" Michael almost shouted. "There's a new development, that's why."

The line went quiet — a sign for him to continue.

Michael took a breath. "It's… the aura he gave off. It was different. It felt like he'd seen death — or caused it."

The person on the other end was silent for a while. Then she said, "What's your take on this?"

"Personally," Michael replied slowly, "I feel something's off. Maybe he's being backed by the other side. But if that's true, it doesn't add up why he wouldn't reveal it."

"So, what are you going to do? Give him space like last time?" The voice asked.

"No. Not again. I've learned not to underestimate him. He's got pull."

"If he's really from the other side, his reaction will show it. But don't go in blind."

"I won't. I already have someone digging deeper to be sure."

The woman hummed quietly. "Alright. Handle the situation. We can't have any loose cats running around in our backyard."

"Noted, ma."

The line went dead.

Michael let out a slow breath of relief and muttered, "Dayo… you've cost me a lot, and you will pay for that."

He knocked on the glass door, and the car started moving.

---

A Few Minutes Later

Dayo stepped out of the limousine, breathing in the cold night air. The sky above Washington was calm, but the front of the arena was chaos. Reporters swarmed everywhere — cameras flashing, microphones raised, and voices overlapping the moment they saw him.

"There he is! Dayo Jason!"

"JD, can we get a word with you?"

"JD, what do you think about tonight's result?"

Alice, waiting nearby, quickly walked up beside him. "Looks like they've been waiting for you," she muttered.

Dayo sighed. "Yeah, I can see that."

Before he could take another step, the reporters crowded in. The flashes were blinding. He lifted a hand slightly to calm them. "Alright, one question at a time," he said firmly.

A young reporter spoke first. "Dayo, a lot of people are calling the Global Competition Finals rigged. Do you agree with them?"

The question hit hard. Alice's head turned sharply, but Dayo didn't flinch.

He paused for a moment, then said evenly, "Well… I think the people saw what happened tonight. You don't need me to say it."

A few reporters gasped quietly as cameras zoomed in.

Another voice shouted, "So, are you saying the results were unfair?"

Dayo met the reporter's eyes. "I'm saying when someone moves an entire arena to tears and still walks home with fourth place — something, somewhere, doesn't add up."

The crowd buzzed instantly. Recorders clicked on.

Alice stepped closer, whispering, "Careful, Dayo."

He smiled faintly. "Just telling the truth."

Another reporter asked, "So, in your opinion, who do you think deserved to win tonight?"

Dayo didn't hesitate. "Min-Jae."

The name echoed through the crowd.

"Min-Jae?" one repeated. "You mean the same contestant who placed fourth?"

"Yes," Dayo said simply. "Min-Jae." He looked directly into the cameras. "I watched every performance. What he did tonight was pure art — a story in motion. That's what the world saw, and that's what I'll always respect. I'm sure you all saw it too."

All the microphones pointed toward him now. Someone asked, "Then why do you think he lost?"

Dayo smiled faintly. "I'm not in a position to judge that. But I've been in this industry long enough to know when things don't go the way talent deserves."

The silence that followed was heavy — even the reporters didn't know how to push further.

Then one of them asked, "Aren't you afraid that speaking this way might affect your relationship with the Global Competition committee or other labels?"

Alice glanced at him nervously, but Dayo just shook his head.

"If being honest ruins a relationship, then maybe that relationship was never real to begin with."

A few reporters exchanged surprised looks. His tone wasn't angry — just calm and firm. Every word carried weight.

Another reporter quickly asked, "So, what's next for you, Dayo? After everything that's happened tonight?"

He gave a small smile. "What's next? Work. That's all I've ever done. You win some, you lose some — but the music doesn't stop."

Alice smiled faintly beside him. She could tell exactly what he was doing.

He wasn't just answering questions — he was creating a distraction. Because before Dayo went to see Michael, they had planned to avoid the media entirely. The fact that he was taking time to speak now, in this tone, meant something had gone wrong.

One last reporter leaned forward. "Do you have anything to say to your fans or to the contestants tonight?"

Dayo nodded slowly. "Yeah. To my fans — thank you for standing by me, even when things don't go as expected. And to the contestants…" he paused, looking straight into one of the cameras, "…just keep your head up. Sometimes losing doesn't mean you lost — it just means you stood in the wrong spotlight."

The reporters froze for a second, realizing what he had just implied.

Cameras flashed rapidly.

"Dayo, what do you mean by that?"

"Are you saying something went wrong behind the scenes?"

He smiled calmly. "No further comment."

Alice tugged gently at his sleeve. "Let's go."

Dayo nodded and began walking away as security stepped in to hold the reporters back. The flashes and voices followed him, but he didn't look back.

The reporters turned toward each other, whispering.

An older reporter spoke up. "The industry's about to see something big."

"Why do you say that?" a younger one asked.

The man chuckled. "You're too young to get it. We all know how Dayo avoids the media. And now he suddenly walks in and drops this kind of statement? What does that tell you?"

"That trouble's brewing somewhere."

"Exactly. Well, let's head out. We might not even get to print this segment."

"Huh? You think so?"

"No. I know so. Bye."

The young reporter frowned. "Weird old guy… whatever. Let's go — this story's too juicy to keep quiet."

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