"By the time my father finds out I’ve run away, I’ll be in Mekata," he thought, already inside the train. "When he wakes up, I’ll be arriving." He remembered he was a minor, only sixteen years old. But his cousin, who shared the same name, had lent him his ID since he was of age. This way, he could pretend to be eighteen and sign contracts. The plan was fragile, but it was the only way he found to make his dream come true. Tsumi didn't like being dishonest, but his cousin had convinced him, saying that once he became famous and rich, he could reward him for the help.

"It’s okay," he thought, looking at the landscape and reviewing his plan. He would arrive in Mekata, stay at a hotel, go to MH—Muyami’s talent agency—take the audition there, and be selected for the agency's casting. He would stay at the Rising Stars dorms, for young Idol candidates, and Muyami would soon see his talent. He would release his first single, and that would be it; fame would be inevitable. He would do shows, series, movies, campaigns, and one day, he would sing alongside Muyami. Straight and simple, that was his fabulous plan. It had to work; after all, he only had enough money for one week in the Asian metropolis. Money he had earned doing odd jobs such as mowing lawns, walking dogs and being a personal shopper.

Tsumi had no idea that the trip from his small town to the great Mekata would be so exhausting. But as he stepped off at the station, he felt the big-city atmosphere. The buildings were enormous, and the streets were packed with people and cars—very different from his hometown, which was quiet and peaceful.

"Wow! This is where Muyami lives!" he thought, euphoric. He was walking in the same place as his idol, and that thrilled him. He felt close to him. He took the subway for the first time in his life; everything was new to him. While buying tickets at the kiosk, he noticed the prices were higher than in his internet research, which apparently was outdated. He decided to save money after leaving the subway station by not taking an Uber to his hotel, which was far from the stop. He walked while observing everything, passing by a church where he marveled at the statues of two angels on the facade. They seemed to hold a clock with Roman numerals, similar to the Big Ben clock tower in London. Their wings circled the bell tower. He took a photo but didn't post it so his father wouldn't find out where he was. He searched online and discovered the church was called the Church of Angels; it belonged to a religion that worshipped angels, and Metatron—who was a certain Enoch—represented the grand master of the cult. However, Tsumi didn’t dive deeper into his research because he had never been interested in religion, despite being a Buddhist by heritage and his father's belief.

After some time, he managed to reach the hotel. It was a small building, but it was nice. He checked in and went into his room. After taking a shower, he saw that his father had tried to call him. Up until that moment, his father hadn't realized he had run away from home. He decided to lie, sending a message saying he would spend the day at a friend's house and would probably stay the night as well. That would keep his father calm until he realized Tsumi wasn't coming back. His father was upset that Tsumi hadn't mentioned he wouldn't be home on his day off, but he consented. "Phew! This way he won't call the police..." Tsumi thought, relieved.

He wanted to go to the MH Agency right away, but he decided to wait until early the next morning. He went to the cafe area of the Hotel Republic and bought a snack and some juice. He thought it was expensive, but he was hungry. He was still thrilled; he was finally in Mekata. He checked his phone and, as usual, looked at Muyami’s social media. Muyami was active and posted constantly. Most of it was sponsored content, but Tsumi liked it anyway. He saw a video of Muyami showing his daily workout in his mansion's gym. Muyami was thirty-nine years old but was in peak physical shape. At the end, he showed off his shredded abs. Tsumi wanted to be like him, but he loved eating and resting; the most exercise he ever did was walking and mowing neighbors' lawns to earn some extra cash. He clicked the heart icon on the app, feeling happy. Muyami was planning to release another single, and Tsumi knew he wouldn't be able to buy it since he couldn't spend more than what he had saved. He saw other posts where Muyami was singing in a rehearsal. Suddenly, he heard Muyami talk about his son. It was a surprise to Tsumi; it was rare to hear about his idol’s only son, and even rarer to hear it from the man himself. Muyami’s son was a mystery to fans since he was hidden from the media. He felt a pang of envy toward the boy.

"I wish I were his son..." he thought, remembering saying those exact words during a fight with his father. The argument had started when his father discovered that Tsumi was spending his allowance on guitar and singing lessons without permission. His father, Dr. Ikeda, a cardiologist, did not approve of his idea of becoming a singer, and so Tsumi lost his allowance.

"Muyami’s son’s allowance must be extraordinary..." Tsumi imagined, feeling even more envious.

"Today my son is here with me at rehearsal," Muyami said in the video. In the background, there was a boy sitting in a chair in the audience area where the show would take place. You couldn't see his face; he was wearing a mask and looking at his phone. Muyami showed him quickly and from a distance. Tsumi froze, rewinding the video over and over to try and get a better look at the boy. But he couldn't see him clearly. "I wonder if Muyami will show him more later?" he asked himself, curious.

As soon as he finished his snack, he decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and find a market where he could buy cheaper food than at the hotel. He walked around the area and saw many shops and restaurants. He saw people leaving work, men and women chatting. They seemed happy. He decided to take the subway and go for a ride in downtown Mekata. When he exited the station, he came face to face with a billboard of Muyami. It was an ad campaign for a luxury perfume. He saw some female fans taking selfies next to it and took one too. The girls looked at him, probably finding it strange for a boy to be a fan of the star. Although Muyami wasn't a young idol, his audience spanned various ages, from teenagers to middle-aged ladies. But male fans were rare. Tsumi knew that many guys were embarrassed to admit being fans but enjoyed his music in secret.

After walking around a lot and his legs hurting from all the walking, he decided to go back to the hotel and rest so he could join Muyami's agency the next day. He watched a little TV and fell asleep. He dreamed he was singing for Muyami, but his voice disappeared. He woke up stressed but quickly recovered. He drank a soda bought from a vending machine and ate some bread he had bought at a small market in the neighborhood. He headed toward Muyami's talent agency. The day was cold, but he sweat nervously at the thought of doing an audition. He thought he might have to fill out an application form and wait to be called, which could take a long time. So he thought about finding a job afterward.

Tsumi glimpsed the MH agency. It was a magnificent building with rounded glass panels and modern architecture. The sun illuminated the blue glass facade, and a chill of adrenaline ran up his body.

"How fantastic!" he thought, excited and amazed. A massive star with the MH logo stuck out colossally from the geodesic glass ceiling of the entrance. As he walked toward the entrance, he observed many paparazzi around, waiting to snap a picture of Muyami leaving or entering the building. There were fans taking photos of the building. Suddenly, he saw some boys wearing sweatshirts with the MH logo printed on the back. "They're signed artists for sure," he thought, fascinated, imagining he would wear a similar outfit soon. The boys were tall, young, and very handsome. The girls gave little screams when they saw them passing by and entering the building.

"How cool! They even have fans already..." Tsumi thought, watching the boys who looked so proud of themselves. Tsumi entered the grand hall through a revolving door and was instructed by a receptionist to take a number from a kiosk. He looked at the panel and chose the option for talent registration. That small piece of plastic the machine spat out with the number twenty-six felt like a dream. He was surprised there were already twenty-five people ahead of him; it was still early, and he thought he would be one of the first. He passed through the turnstile and headed toward the queue where people were sitting in rows of benches—these were the candidates for new talent. Some were accompanied by their parents, who looked proud of their children, the future famous artists. Tsumi looked at a large wall covered in posters of the agency's famous stars; he took a step and ended up tripping over a "wet floor" sign. The sign made a loud noise, and everyone looked at him. Tsumi felt embarrassed, and as he tried to pick up the sign, a young man appeared behind him.

"Let me fix that," said a young man in a janitor's uniform.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t see the sign," Tsumi said, feeling like he was hindering the boy's work.

"It’s okay. Lucky you didn’t fall," he replied, sounding a bit relieved and preparing to walk away.

"True, that would have been quite an embarrassment. It’s just that I’m nervous. I’m going to sign up with MH," Tsumi continued. It felt good to talk to someone there, even if it was an employee, he thought. The young janitor smiled.

"Good luck, then," he said, waving a shy goodbye. Tsumi thanked him and sat down on one of the benches. He waited to be called and observed the others as they were assisted. They filled out a form and then handed it to the attendant at the counter. He grew apprehensive when he saw the candidates' parents swiping credit cards. He thought he must have misheard the amount of the fee. It couldn't be that much; it would be far too expensive. Soon it was his turn. The attendant treated him well and instructed him on how to fill in his details. In the skills section, he wrote that he sang, wrote songs, and played several instruments. He had prepared for this day. However, he had never done any TV work and had no stage experience.

"I hope I’m not rejected for lack of experience," he thought. He entered his physical characteristics, such as his height—he was one meter seventy-two (5'8"). He considered himself reasonably tall for an Asian. He would probably grow more; his father was over one-eighty (5'11"). He weighed fifty-six kilos (123 lbs), which made him very thin. To be an idol, it was better to be thin, so he watched what he ate despite loving food. However, he felt his sacrifice was being rewarded as he filled out the form.

He handed the form over at the counter and was immediately hit by a reality check. "Will you be paying the registration fee by credit card, check, debit, or Pix?" the attendant asked with a natural smile. Tsumi froze for a moment.

"And how much is the fee?" he asked awkwardly.

"Eight thousand. We can split it on credit if you like, sir," the attendant said, still smiling.

"Eight thousand!" Tsumi exclaimed, his voice cracking.

"Yes, eight thousand dollars," the attendant continued matter-of-factly. "If you prefer to have a personal audition with Mr. Muyami Murasaki, the fee is twenty thousand. However, the audition would need to be scheduled and might take a while depending on his availability."

Tsumi felt his world shrink at that moment. "Is there no such thing as a free audition?" he asked, already expecting a negative answer. The attendant raised her eyebrows and said it wasn't company policy to conduct free auditions. He was left with no choice but to say he would come back later.

Tsumi walked out the door more discouraged than ever. His dream had been torn apart by the registration fee.

His "levare" had failed. The music fell out of sync, lost its rhythm, and the dynamics were ignored. The MH fee sounded like a diminished chord.

"Looks like you found out about the fee," he heard a voice behind him. He turned around and saw the janitor, now out of his uniform. He was wearing a coat and a scarf wrapped around his neck. 

...