CHAPTER 52

Bruno Mars could be seen talking with his agent, Todd. "So, Todd, are you coming to see me? I hope it's good news you bring," Bruno Mars inquired.

Todd adjusted himself and comfortably settled into a chair with a smile on his face. "Yes, I do. So, I contacted the blogger about the singer, but from what I heard, he is already a signed artist. So, I spoke with his agent."

Bruno Mars responded with a smile, "There's no need for formalities. Draft the contract, and let's get this ship sailing. You know that the release date of my album is fast approaching, so the earlier we settle this, the better." His expression conveyed how desperate he was to get the contract signed.

Seeing Bruno Mars's reaction, Todd chuckled. He knew Bruno was always passionate about his music. "Yeah, sure. I am on it. Probably in two weeks from now, I would be done."

"That's good news," Bruno said, suddenly recalling something. "Oh, that reminds me, how is the promotion going for the album?" He asked Todd, who was about to walk out.

"Hearing this, Todd walked back and sat down again. "Well, there are some issues, but we're still working on them. It's nothing to worry about," Todd assured.

Bruno Mars gazed at Todd, attempting to discern any signs of deception. Opting to trust him, he chuckled lightly, "If you say so, Todd. I trust you. You know how crucial this album is for me and how much it needs to succeed."

"I know, Mars, don't worry. I'll handle it well," Todd assured, trying to alleviate Bruno Mars's concerns.

"Alright, I trust you to manage it as you always have," Bruno Mars acknowledged, confident in Todd's abilities."

....

In an opulent office, Mathew stood before a distinguished man, surrounded by grand elegance. The expansive space featured tall, mahogany-paneled walls adorned with tasteful artwork, exuding sophistication. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

The floor, a polished marble expanse, reflected the room's splendor. Plush, intricately woven rugs graced the floor, lending both warmth and texture to the luxurious ambiance. Silence dominated the room until the man raised his head and inquired, "So, Mathew, what did you mention about that song?" He casually reached for a cigarette, lighting it up.

Mathew, feeling the weight of the man's attention, despite the room's air conditioning, replied, "Yes, sir. The song is owned by the young artist I previously discussed with you, the one unfamiliar with the industry."

The man took a puff from his cigarette and gestured for Mathew to continue, nodding in approval. Mathew gulped hard, feeling the weight of the conversation. "So, sir, the issue is that the boy failed to register the copyright for his song. I saw the opportunity and registered it in my name," Mathew admitted.

At this revelation, the man sitting across from him arched an eyebrow, an expression of intrigued surprise on his face. He regarded Mathew and remarked, "That's quite shrewd of you, Mathew," his tone carrying a sly chuckle.

Mathew, encouraged by the man's response, felt a surge of confidence. He knew his move was daring, but the powerful figure before him held the authority and influence that could shield him in the cutthroat music industry. "Ah, not at all, sir. It's all because of your guidance and insight," Mathew replied, subtly praising the man, who merely chuckled and prompted him to continue.

"Yes, sir. Recently, someone sought to buy the school, and it's not just anyone, it's Bruno Mars, the American musician. He's willing to offer a generous sum for it, sir," Mathew declared, sporting a satisfied smile.

"The Bruno Mars?" the man inquired, intrigued by the famous musician's interest.

"Yes, sir. His agent contacted the blogger, but I've made it clear that I'm the sole contact point. I've been vigilant in handling any queries about the boy," Mathew responded, exuding an air of competence and confidence.

"Very well, Mathew. How much are they offering?" The man asked, his gaze fixed on Mathew.

Upon seeing the man's intense gaze, Mathew sensed he couldn't deceive him. Nervously, he responded, "They've offered fifteen thousand U.S. dollars, sir. I believe they might be willing to raise the offer. Their eagerness was evident, and I've heard his album is soon to be released, so he might require an additional song."

As Mathew divulged the amount, the man's eyes twitched slightly. The sum, when converted to the Nigerian currency, exceeded twenty-two million Naira, an impressive amount, even though the man's assets exceeded it. Turning towards Mathew, the man nodded and instructed, "Very well, Mathew. Ensure the deal goes through. Try to negotiate and elevate the price if possible." With that, he gestured for Mathew to leave.

"Mathew made a slight bow as he exited the office. He breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the glint of greed in the man's eyes, he understood the gravity of the situation. If he failed to secure this deal, he would face severe consequences. He was determined to give his all to close this agreement."

...

Unbeknownst to the upcoming sale of the song, its rightful owner remained absorbed in a realm separate from these impending developments. His focus was deeply immersed in musical pursuits, particularly his dedication to mastering the piano. The individual, unacquainted with the ongoing proceedings, ardently delved into the melodic world of music, embracing the piano as a new venture, unaware of the storm brewing around his creation.

Simultaneously, the serene room housed Hamza and David, both perched in front of an opulent grand piano. The atmosphere hummed with anticipation as Hamza stood beside David, his gaze fixated on the keys with sheer eagerness. David, an experienced pianist and now acting as a mentor, held a patient demeanor, guiding Hamza through the foundational elements. He meticulously emphasized the significance of hand placement and correct posture, sharing his wealth of expertise with finesse and finesse.

The harmonious rhythm that emanated from David's adept fingers was nothing short of enchanting. Each note danced through the air, creating a symphony that possessed both a calming and invigorating quality. This melodious journey captivated Hamza's undivided attention, infusing him with a newfound fervor and passion for this musical instrument.

As the harmonious tunes gradually subsided, David turned to Hamza with an encouraging smile, inquiring, "How much of that were you able to grasp?"

Hamza standing there smiled and was about to reply when he heard a familiar song

*DING*

- piano has been added to your list of instrument.

N.B: check status to see level System

Status -Name: Adekunle Hamza

- Age: 17 years

- vocal level: Beginner 7

- Composing level: Beginner 3

- Dancing:NIL

- Acting: Beginner 2

- Instrument level:

 - Guitar: 7

 - Kambali: 5

 - Flute: 4

 - Piano:2 -

Performance Points (PP): 9,089

- System Level 1: [9,089/10,000]

- Note: The player should level up for more features and functions.

"Hamza, feeling elated about his recent piano lesson, was already sensing progress on his piano journey. He had just begun learning the instrument that day, and surprisingly, everything seemed to click. He felt he understood it all so well, attributing part of this newfound understanding to the mysterious system he had been gifted. It was as though everything about music had changed for him; it was like a veil had been lifted, allowing him to comprehend music far better than ever before.

Noticing Hamza lost in his thoughts, David walked up to him and gave him a gentle shake. "Hamza, what's on your mind? You seem lost in thought."

Absolutely, I'll expand upon the scene to reach 300 words while maintaining the essence of the original text.

Hamza, engrossed in thoughts about the system and its implications, was suddenly jolted by David's inquiring gaze. He recognized the questioning look on his friend's face, one that hinted at skepticism. Breaking his reverie, Hamza chuckled and responded, "Sorry, bro, I was lost in thought. I've got it, what you showed me earlier."

Though David remained uncertain about Hamza's understanding, he decided to let it go for the moment. "Alright, if you say so. Play me the last note I played," he instructed.

Hamza sensed the doubt in his friend's tone. He couldn't blame David for his skepticism, as he likely would have felt the same way in his position. "Sure, bro," Hamza replied with a smile, masking the pressure he felt. Without delay, he took his place in front of the keyboard, mimicking the posture that David had meticulously taught him. Placing his hands on the keys, he took a deep breath and played the same note that David had demonstrated earlier.

Despite its simplicity, Hamza poured his emotions into the melody. He tried to elicit the full depth of feeling from the single key. As his fingers touched the keyboard, he closed his eyes momentarily, focusing on capturing the essence of the sound and its emotional resonance.

The note resonated with a sense of earnestness, sincerity, and a dash of his own artistic touch. Hamza was satisfied with his rendition, hoping that his emotional infusion had been conveyed effectively through the simple melody. As he finished playing, he glanced at David, awaiting his friend's reaction, hopeful that his performance had met the mark.