Ambitious

"I see she's sleeping. Must've been an ambitious session, eh?"

It was already dark when I unloaded, sorted, and organized everything I had bought. I had to make my way to Daniella's place by foot too, carrying a load of groceries, so the journey was not the fastest. A tiring trek, yes, but well worth it.

I had poked my head through the door and invited myself inside. Seeing Lumi's peaceful face as she dozed off on the leather couch with a gentle but happy smile was everything. The fatigue went away like a snap.

Daniella hurried over, grabbing some bags from me. "So that's where you've been. You'd worry her if she knew you walked there and back. What's this, anyways? I have fridge full of food."

I ignored her words and forced my way into the kitchen. Without a shred of politeness, I swung open all the cabinets, the drawers, and the fridge doors. I'd expected Daniella to be one who avoided cooking, but this was worst. Dust covered the majority of the cooking utensils. Plastic containers for frozen microwavable meals and instant noodles filled the trash. There was also another bin dedicated to holding snack wrappers solely.

I turned and raised an eyebrow to Daniella, who blushed with shame. "A fridge full of food, eh? Must be all spoiled and rotten by now? When was the last time you cooked something proper?"

"Erm… never?"

I chuckled at her weak mumbling. "Well, that's what this is. A meal as thanks for teaching Lumi today."

Daniella pulled a stool over to the island and watched me take out the ingredients. "Sandwiches to noodles? You don't seem like one to cook, either."

"Nothing special," I retorted. "But Lumi likes everything I make."

Daniella rolled her eyes. "You don't need to show off in front of me. She couldn't stay still without you around, you know. Dad taught me this, dad taught me that." Her voice then turned sharp. "I thought you said you weren't a professional."

I focused on preparing the lobsters, so my tone was nonchalant. "One week. She started singing one week ago."

Daniella froze. "W-what?!"

I pointed the knife towards her. "The talent is all her. You know even professional teaching cannot reach this level of singing in a week.

"I-I can't believe it. There are geniuses like this in the world…"

"I had mandatory choir and music lessons when I was in school before. Plus, I used to hang out in karaoke bars a lot. We only talked about what felt right and wrong when singing. The rest was her adapting. Oh, and she's a synesthete."

Daniella sucked in a deep breath and began knocking at her forehead. "Okay, that's the least surprising part."

I raised an eyebrow, beginning to peel the shrimp to make the soup stock. "Was she that good?"

Daniella all the sudden threw her hands down onto the quartz countertop. "Did you think I faked that shock when she sang with me? I don't think anyone can. I study vocals and piano, not theatre."

She paused. "Her basic technique is near perfect. Her vocal control is comparable to some popular singers already. I can't even say she's rough around the edges, because she only needs that little bit of polishing. Proper enunciation, transposing emotions, some breath work, finding her own tone. These are all minor details easy to fix."

"What about the high notes, err—whistle notes? Sustained belts?"

Daniella sat back down, crossing her arms. "You're no singing layman."

"My daughter wants to be a singer. I can't support her without a little bit of knowledge."

"Advanced techniques," she replied. "Singers nowadays don't need them, as long as they have a good song."

The knife held midair, I paused everything I was doing. I turned to her, my voice deep, my gaze intense. "Not any ordinary singer. A superstar."

Steam from the boiling water only accentuated the atmosphere on the blade's edge. Daniella returned my look, her voice too filled with meaning.

"Do you recognize how thick the waters are in this industry? One word. One man. One mishap buries dozens of generational talents a year, alone."

I refused to back down. "I do. Bad blood there treads deep and never cleanses. That's why you're so wary and defensive around me."

It was satisfying seeing Daniella the one who froze instead. I did not relent.

"You keep asking me about my profession, and if I was a college of your professor. You're not on good terms with them, are you?"

Daniella fell silent, but her gaze still fixated on me. I continued cooking with my back turned, knowing she would respond.

"Yes," she admitted. "My senior sister at the Royal Institute was a generational talent like Lumi. My professor wanted to latch his name onto hers for everything. Her songs, Her public image. Her physical body. Of course she refused. But then he took her private life out of context and jeopardized everything."

Daniella paused. Her eyes narrowed, drawing parallels to ourselves. "She came from a poor single-parent family, and when they got threatened, she fled overseas. Disappeared from all aspects of societal life."

I continued cooking, melting herbs and butter for the lobsters. I reduced the shrimp stock as Daniella continued, her voice without any twinge of emotion.

"Tell me. A superstar is one beloved, one widely known to people around the world, one successful in their field. But what if the whole world all the sudden berates your character, your appeal, your whole being? What if the whole world discredits all your success? What would you do? What would you do for that superstar?"

I did not answer her. I boiled the noodles, added the stock, placed the lobster chunks, and garnished with onions.

Daniella watched the bowl of steaming noodles slide to her. She raised my head, only to meet my grin, a grin brimming with extraordinary confidence.

"Not an ordinary singer, but not an ordinary superstar, either. I would make her too big to fail. To tall too topple. An omnipotent superstar. I would make her singing so good, they cannot discredit her voice or her character. They can only treasure it, forever."

Daniella stared at the bowl of noodles for a while, but she did raise her head. The steam blurred some of her features, but I could not mistake the heavy smile hung on her.

"You are ambitious, all right. Yet that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and somehow, you know, I kinda like it."