What a beautiful night it was.

To celebrate the new year, the night was more splendid than ever.

Signs and lights and fireworks.

Everything shone as if struggling not to lose to the sun.

Now they must exert all their power and blaze, burning up their whole life, so as not to look shabby even when the day comes.

"What did you say? Retire?! Are you saying you're retiring now?!"

Startled by the sudden shout, Road turned back to look behind, even as he gestured for him to focus ahead. Reluctantly, he faced forward again, but his ears were still pricked.

"Retiring on a good day like this?!"

His manager kept repeating the same disbelief.

"No, sorry, where on earth is there a crazy guy saying he'll retire after going to an awards ceremony?!"

Judging by his reaction, if they hadn't been in a singer and manager relationship, he would have grabbed his collar with hands like a gorilla's.

"Instead of just puffing away at cigarettes, say something, Halo! I know you do whatever you want, but you weren't always like this!"

Halo stopped smoking and giggled.

It was a jagged laugh like the tips of his snow-white dyed hair.

"What do you mean by 'like this'?"

"Oh please don't act like my ex-girlfriend. I'm already getting trauma. More importantly, are you serious? You're joking, right?"

"Hmm, who knows?"

He didn't care one bit about his manager who looked about to swing a fist at any moment. His long legs resting on the seat swayed to the rhythm. This was a gesture that came out when he had absolutely no intention of talking.

The manager thought this couldn't just slide.

In his eyes, Halo was crazier than anyone he had ever seen, the kind of lunatic who would actually retire on stage at the awards show.

The manager spoke gently, as if placating a child.

"Halo, don't do that at the awards ceremony. And this isn't just any awards either, they're the Grammys! The arrogant pricks who've been full of themselves are finally kneeling to you! It's a night to get drunk on victory... Okay, I'll overlook it just once. Whatever nonsense you wanna pull, I'll take responsibility. Curse out the judges, strip naked, put out dating rumors, I'll cover for everything. Just don't commit crimes or talk about retiring."

Halo giggled at his desperate plea.

"Why make such a big deal? The Grammys are nothing special."

"The Grammys are... nothing special."

"They're just the American pumpkin pie. They pat each other on the back saying, 'You did so well,' then wait for people's reactions. Or did you grease some palms?"

"Grease palms? What?"

The manager's expression hardened.

The face people made when they were truly angry.

Contrary to appearances, the manager was a devout believer, the most morally outstanding person in the industry, completely out of place. Halo hurriedly raised both hands.

"Sorry. I guess yesterday's pills haven't worn off yet. Do you happen to have any booze left?"

"Unfortunately I can't give you any after what you just said."

"Just this once, please."

"Absolutely not. Don't change the subject and make me a promise. You absolutely won't even mention the word retiring."

"..."

A sigh.

No answer.

The manager couldn't hold in a sigh.

He couldn't understand that lunatic's antics at all. If possible, he wanted to rip open his head and see how he thinks.

"Let me ask you one thing. Do you want to throw everything away? Did you suddenly get tired of extravagance and indulgence?"

"It's not that."

"Then why the hell are you suddenly talking about retiring? Don't act like a teenager going through puberty and give me a straight answer."

"I'm not old enough to hear puberty jokes."

"If you're an adult then take responsibility for your own words."

"My heart is forever young."

"Tch."

In the end, curses spilled from the manager's mouth.

Halo giggled and turned his head.

No street lights were visible through the window.

The expanse was too big to cover up apparently.

All that unfolded before him was darkness.

Before him on the path he couldn't see anything on, the path he had walked felt meaningless.

As the manager said, it wasn't that he wanted to throw everything away.

He didn't suddenly come down with a terminal illness, why would he throw things away? He liked spending more than saving, and loved extravagance and attention.

Diligence and abstinence, moderation. These don't even exist in his dictionary.

Besides.

Was he even in a position to throw everything away? It would be possible if he got into an irreversible accident. But he had no intention of causing an accident on purpose.

'How to put this...'

When he realized those dazzling lights that shone like stars were actually worthless blobs made of electricity, everything felt futile.

It wasn't that his passion for music and singing had faded.

He still loved his music, his passion, and his class.

But suddenly he would think, he's already done it all.

Countless goals he had set as a child, that he thought could never be achieved in a lifetime,

he had accomplished them all at the mere age of thirty-two.

'Now there's nothing left I can do.'

He had run straight ahead without looking back or around him and reached the peak.

He had finished everything.

If his life were a movie, the ending credits would be rolling up around this time.

His most splendid song made by him would play in the background music and the names of everyone who had helped, from actors to directors to production crew, would be mentioned one by one.

And text like this would appear at the very end:

'This movie was based on a true story.'

What a perfect tale this is.

The manager was wearing a serious expression.

It was obvious he was lost in thought, probably wondering if he caused an accident he couldn't cover up.

As the manager, with an unexpectedly solemn gaze that didn't quite match his giant frame, hesitated in suppressing laughter, Halo, who noticed it belatedly, also held back a smile.

"Alright."

"What?"

No, in the end, he couldn't hold it in. Not because his expression was usually unsightly. Whether the manager stared at him like a madman or not, the laughter didn't stop.

"Halo, what do you mean by 'alright'?"

"Hahaha!"

"What do you mean by ‘alright’!"

The manager asked seriously, even desperately.

Thinking of the manager, who had been worrying about hypertension lately, Halo decided to indulge him just this once.

"I was joking about retiring."

Just a casual remark.

As always, it was a sudden whim.

Life was like a movie, wasn't it? A fantasy fit for an adolescent boy.

Retirement. Absolutely not.

If he were to retire from the Grammys, it might be somewhat symbolic, but those who used to criticize him would soon be happily flapping their wings.

He couldn't stand to see that.

Leaving when they were applauding? No way. He should stay until they smear crap on the walls.

"Well, it was just a joke, after all?"

As if he believed it, the manager reflected.

"Hey! Hahaha! It was quite an entertaining joke! A joke that will probably be remembered for a good ten years!"

A sense of resentment crept into Halo's feelings toward the manager, unsure if he enjoyed it or mocked it.

"I have to release a new album and appear on a talk show. Retirement? No way."

Yeah, an album. A special day that came every four years. There were plans to release one. Halo, thinking about it, rummaged through his car.

"Where's my Marie?"

"Here."

The manager handed him an elegantly designed acoustic guitar with an H-shaped pattern, a unique guitar made by Gibson for Halo, named Marianne.

Hmm—

Strumming the strings, he held Marianne close and hummed softly.

Until dawn comes.

Now he had a song that, unlike his previous music, focused on a calm, acoustic sound.

A song with poetic lyrics, fitting for this night.

Critics might accept such a serene song, but they might also criticize Halo for losing his edge.

But, well, he never really cared about critics. They clash even among themselves.

Continuing the lyrics, he turned his head to look out the window.

A dazzling light, like in the song's lyrics, was rushing towards him.

Was it morning already?

It was still early for the sun to rise.

Feeling something strange for a moment, he couldn't continue enjoying the moment.

—Bang! Crash!!

The sound of a large car.

Someone's scream echoed, and in an instant, everything in front of him turned white.

That was his last memory.

#

Halo's life was like a movie.

A boy with talent in music from a young age.

Clashing with his parents' wishes, he ran away from home.

A runaway youth facing scams, violence, neglect, and irrationality. He threw himself into the rawness of everyday life but eventually rose to the very top of the world.

Halo.

More widely known than his real name, the alias was chosen hastily from a crumpled science textbook, but it was said that no other name suited him better.

A galaxy that absorbs everything,

A halo surrounding the sun and moon.

And glory.

His life flowed like his name.

Outstanding looks and vocal skills, calling him the incarnation of Apollo.

Uncompromising values.

A special narrative of a runaway youth becoming the world's greatest singer.

Above all, his music touched many.

Even the 'moment' he was going to receive the most 'glorious' award wasn't his last.

'I said it's like a movie. But I didn't wish for an ending like this.'

He murmured self-deprecatingly.

He truly did not wish for something like this.

It was just a fleeting delusion.

He was still young and had much left he wanted to do.

It's not time yet

He cried resentfully.

No answer came.

There was no one left to hear his voice.

...He was, indeed, dead.

As he realized this, strength left his whole body.

The cigarette in his hand dropped to the ground with a plop.

He couldn't even tell if it was a cigarette. He couldn't see anything.

Here in this place where he saw nothing he could do nothing.

Ironically, when it was actually necessary, no one listened, and it ended like this.

He slumped to the floor.

He stared blankly into space, propping his chin in his hand.

He couldn't see or hear or feel anything.

Even the stifling feeling of not knowing if this was real scattered into the air.

Tick

Just then.

"!"

At the sound coming from somewhere, his keen hearing reacted. But still, nothing was visible.

Did I imagine it?

Just as he was about to sink his head again.

Tick, tick.

This time he heard it consecutively.

It wasn't a hallucination.

Unable to hold back, he shot up from his seat.

Where is it? Where are you?

The sound repeated as if calling him. Upon thinking, it resembles the ticking of a clock. Or the sound of something dropping.

Tick, tick.

The sound came at regular intervals.

He couldn't just sit still.

Relying on the sound to get out of this place, he started walking.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Now he could guess

what this sound was.

.

Colliding with the thin plastic at a regular beat this sound of,

"Metronome?"

At that moment, the world lit up.