The deliberation room was colder than the practice halls.

Not in temperature, but in feeling.

Kai sat at the far end of the long table, hands folded so tightly in his lap that his fingers had gone numb. Across from him, producers and vocal coaches whispered in low voices, screens filled with data, waveforms, and paused video frames.

Then the audio began.

A single piano chord.

And a voice.

His voice.

Young. Clear. Unbroken.

The room stilled instantly.

Rei’s posture changed the moment the first note rang out. His eyes narrowed, his attention sharpening with the precision of someone who lived for sound.

“That’s him,” Rei said quietly, but with absolute certainty.

The producer paused the clip. “You recognize it?”

Rei nodded. “I’ve studied this voice for years. Echo’s tone, his breath control, the way he colors his vowels. No one else sings like that.”

All eyes turned to Kai.

The silence pressed in, demanding an answer.

Kai’s throat burned. Every instinct screamed at him to deny it, to shrink back, to protect the fragile identity he’d built.

But he was tired of hiding.

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “That was me.”

The name hung in the air.

Echo.

A legend.

A mystery.

A ghost.

Ms. Hoshino leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell us from the start?”

Kai swallowed. “Because Echo lost his voice once. Completely. And when it finally came back… I was terrified it would disappear again if anyone knew who I was.”

One of the producers frowned. “So you joined under a different name?”

“I joined as myself,” Kai said softly. “The version of me that was still learning how to breathe without music.”

Rei watched him closely. “And now?”

Kai hesitated. “Now I’m afraid the past is catching up.”

The room fell quiet again.

The director finally spoke. “Talent like yours doesn’t vanish. But it does demand respect. You pushed your voice because you were afraid of losing it.”

Kai nodded. Tears blurred his vision. “I thought if I kept singing, it couldn’t leave.”

“That’s not how healing works,” she replied gently.

For the first time, no one looked at him like a fallen idol.

They looked at him like a boy who had survived something.

Outside the room, whispers spread quickly through the staff.

Echo was here.

Echo was broken.

Echo was human.

And somehow, that made him more real than ever.

To be continued...