The faint hum of a monitor filled the dimly lit room.
Posters of idols and streamers covered the walls, and in the middle of it all sat Kai, his hood pulled low, a microphone glowing softly in front of him.
The chat on his stream raced by.
“His voice is insane!”
“Echo’s back at it again!”
“Still no face reveal???”
Kai smiled faintly, though no one could see it.
To the world, he was Echo, the faceless streamer with the angelic voice. But to himself, he was just a boy in a small room, singing to stay alive.
The music started, and his voice filled the silence smooth, warm, carrying the ache of every sleepless night.
When the last note faded, his fingers trembled.
“Encore!”
“Echo never misses!”
He muted the mic, closing his eyes. For a moment, everything was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
A few months later, the stage lights were replaced by sterile white hospital lamps.
The hum of a heart monitor echoed where applause once had.
Kai sat in bed, bandages wrapped around his throat. His voice the thing that had carried him, connected him, defined him was gone.
“The surgery was a success,” the doctor said. “But he’ll need to rest. No singing for a long time.”
His parents nodded quietly. His mother held his hand.
Kai stared out the window. His reflection looked back at him the same boy, but silent.
The internet filled the void with rumors.
“Echo quit streaming.”
“He lost his voice.”
“Maybe he died.”
Kai didn’t log on again.
Not for months.
One year later, the house was too quiet.
His parents pretended not to worry, but the unspoken fear still lingered in every conversation.
One morning, Kai finally broke the silence.
“I want to sing again.”
His father froze mid-sip of coffee.
“You’re serious?”
Kai nodded.
His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Honey… please. You nearly destroyed your voice last time. Isn’t it enough to be healed?”
“I’m fine now,” he said, though the tightness in his throat told him otherwise.
“No,” his father said firmly. “You won’t risk your voice again. We can’t go through that twice.”
Kai lowered his gaze. The conversation was over.
But the fire in his chest refused to go out.
That night, Kai sat alone in his room, staring at his old microphone. Dust had gathered on the metal mesh, but the little red light still worked.
He plugged it in.
The hum of the monitor returned familiar, almost comforting.
He hesitated, then sang.
It wasn’t the same voice as before.
It was deeper, rougher but stronger.
Real.
The sound cracked at first, then steadied. For the first time in months, he smiled.
The next afternoon, Kai walked through the city. Neon lights and billboards towered over him, but one caught his eye immediately.
IDOL SURVIVAL: NEXT LEGENDS — A NEW GENERATION BEGINS!
He stopped. The reflection of the glowing sign shimmered in his eyes.
A new chance.
A new voice.
A new beginning.
He clenched his fists.
“They think my voice is gone,” he whispered. “But it’s just evolved.”
That night, he opened his streaming software again.
The screen flickered to life.
For the first time ever, he turned on the camera.
No mask. No filters. Just Kai.
“New skill unlocked.”
The light blinked red.
He smiled.
“Let’s start again.
To be continued...
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