Threatened backstage

Tristan leaned forward in his seat, watching the performance like a hawk.

Valerian's hands were flying over the keyboard of the electric piano, almost as if the man was controlled by an invisible puppet master. Valerian himself was hunched over the piano, glaring at something invisible.

It was a song of pure passion, movement, and pride. It sounded like a military march, if one was twice as fast and with several sharp series of notes that sounded way too rock for a march.

With the speed at which Valerian's fingers moved, it was almost impossible to tell that the notes in the melody didn't always come at the same time when Valerian pressed the keys. Sometimes they were just a fraction of a second slower or faster.

Tristan himself wouldn't have noticed if he didn't scrutinize every second of Valerian's performance whenever the camera showed him from up close.

Even then, he wasn't 100% sure his hunch was correct. There weren't enough close-up shots of the camera!

The song ended, and Valerian bowed to the audience. The juries applauded together with everybody else and began animatedly discussing the performance.

"This was a very interesting mixing of genres and instruments."

"Yes, a very unusual participant. And on the stage, you can really see the passion he put into this music live."

"A new take on classics! Too bad there was no way to put an actual piano on this stage…"

Tristan didn't listen to the rest of the conversation, or to the host announcing the next contestant.

He stood up and walked out of the waiting room and toward the backstage, his guitar hanging on his back.

However, instead of going directly to the area where large instruments and other equipment were stored between performances, Tristan found a narrow hallway branching out next to it and hid behind the corner.

Silent and almost unnoticeable—unless someone came up from behind—Tristan waited for a dozen minutes until he saw Valerian walk past, going toward the dressing room.

Tristan continued on his way until he reached the room where the equipment was stored. Like he expected, Valerian's electric piano was still there, standing to the side, amid other instruments, decorations, and stage equipment.

From this room, he could clearly hear the voice of the host announcing the next participant.

A couple of stage workers were carrying a large piece of decoration to the stage, but they didn't pay Tristan any mind. They didn't return afterward, either. Thankfully, there were other entrances for participants on the stage. Or maybe the next contestant was already out there, waiting behind a curtain.

The security in this place was really lacking. After the initial checks at the entrance to the music call, Tristan barely saw any. There were too few security cameras, too. If he wanted, Tristan could have begun breaking up all the instruments to clear his way to victory.

He would not risk it, although the idea was tempting.

Emboldened because he was alone, Tristan went right to the Valerian's piano and inspected it.

With his piano skills, and his music production skills, he knew enough to tell for sure that the electric piano was tampered with.

Specifically, there was a program set up that played a certain melody on command. All Valerian had to do was pretend to play!

Tristan smirked.

He knew Valerian wasn't THAT good. If he was playing on his own, in his clearly emotional state, half of the note timings would've been off.

An anonymous tip to the jury committee was going to get Valerian kicked not just out of this year's contest, but out of all of them.

A door opened, and a person stepped inside, forcing Tristan to step away from Valerian's piano.

It was the blond guy from the dressing room earlier, but Tristan would've never recognized him without putting so many points in his observation skill.

He was wearing a bright silver wig that fell to his back, and his face was painted in bright theatrical makeup with purple lipstick and eyeshadow. There were also lavender glitter triangles on the man's cheeks, making them look sharper.

The rest of the costume was similar: very shiny, purple, lavender, and silver, with highlights in black. It was skin-tight on the chest, but with wide pants and sleeves.

There was an electric guitar on his back, in the same style.

The man looked like either a star of the disco, or an anime character… Maybe like a disco star anime character.

"Oh, what are you doing here, man?" he asked. "Waiting for your performance? I don't think it's going to be soon. The next one is a woman, and the one after is definitely not you."

Music blared loudly from the stage.

"Really?" Tristan asked, gradually moving toward the exit.

The glittery man laughed.

"Yeah, because that person is me!"

Tristan relaxed a little. The man didn't suspect him of anything, clearly.

"I was just hanging around," Tristan said. "And just leaving. You have a very striking costume, by the way."

The man grinned.

"Thanks! I designed it myself and—"

He was cut off by the opened door. A pair of people entered, and from a single look at them, Tristan knew they had no business whatsoever being here.

For one, despite having beiges of stage workers, they looked and moved nothing like them. Also, Tristan spotted faint outlines of guns under their jackets.

'It looks like I was not the only one tempted to trim the competition by messing with equipment. Or with the competitors themselves,' Tristan thought dryly.

They paused at the entrance, then looked at the musicians and tsked.

"You aren't from the staff. Leave this place, go wait in… waiting room."

The glittery man blinked.

"What? The staff literally pointed me to wait here until my turn—"

He froze when one of the men pointed a gun at the two guitarists. It had a silencer on it, and Tristan knew that with the music blaring outside, no one would hear a shot.

"We told you to get the fuck out. Both of you! Clear? Get the fuck out and forget about winning this competition. Otherwise, you will find yourself with broken fingers afterward! Or perhaps we won't even wait to do it!"