Starlight Stage came into view two hours before the curtain rose. The eastern edge of Shione Ward. Two alleys in from Komachi Street, the live house sat tucked away. A small venue carved out of the first floor of an old building. Capacity: two hundred. The last stage 765 Production had scraped together funds to secure. Ren looked up at the sign above the entrance. "765 Production Resurrection Live — Amami Haruka" A single handwritten poster was taped inside the glass door. Beyond it, an empty floor came into view. Rows of chairs. A stage at the front. The lights were off, casting everything in shadow. Ren pushed open the door and stepped inside. The sound control booth was a small space at the back of the seating area. When Ren opened the door, equipment lined the walls. Amps, a mixer, monitors. Ren checked each piece while connecting a personal laptop. A frequency filter program. Written over the past two days. The system was designed to auto-detect and block interference signals the moment they arrived. (Come on. Work for me.) Something close to prayer, Ren pushed down into the depths of their chest. One hour before doors opened. The audience began to arrive. Ren looked down at the seating area from the booth's small window. Unconsciously counting the incoming crowd. Ten people. Twenty. Thirty—. Against a venue capacity of two hundred, barely fifty were trickling in. More than half the seats sat empty. The direct impact of the social media firestorm. Fabricated rumors spreading. Manufactured scandals. The trending hashtag "765 Pro is finished"—the wounds from Void's information warfare were showing up as numbers on a screen. And yet, there were faces among those who came. One woman sat in a front-center seat. She held her ticket in both hands, clutching it to her chest. The man beside her—a friend, perhaps—was talking with her in low voices. In the front row, three young girls held handmade paper fans. They whispered to each other while reading a flyer. Their eyes—they weren't wavering. Ren leaned back against the booth wall. The empty seats hurt to look at. But the people who came had decided to come. That fact accumulated quietly inside Ren. Make the live happen for these people. That was all. Thirty minutes before showtime, Yao appeared at the sound control booth door. Silver short bob caught the fluorescent light. Headphones hung around her neck. A star-shaped tattoo at her left temple. Golden eyes glanced at Ren's terminal. "[serious]Cyber defense deployment is complete. Filters are positioned at every entry and exit point of the venue network." "When does the filter activate?" "[serious]Auto-activation the moment an interference signal is detected. However, reverse-tracing the source will be manual. Let me know the instant you receive a signal." Ren nodded. "Any technical gaps?" "None. I've verified the filter's precision. I've fed it every Void Sign pattern from the past." A brief silence. Yao looked at the terminal screen. Then, just once, she gave a small nod. "[serious]Understood. I trust you." She's not one for unnecessary words, Ren thought again. Yao didn't use the word "trust" lightly. Not long after Yao left, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened. Rintarou. His 185cm frame filled the entrance to the small booth. Jet-black short hair. A scar on his left cheek. Deep indigo eyes. Those eyes looked at Ren. "I've finished checking the communications equipment around the venue. No suspicious signals so far." "Once Yao narrows down the source through reverse-tracing, I'll send you the coordinates." "Got it. I'll move the moment I receive them." Rintarou stared at Ren. One second. Two seconds. "[cold]Don't think about anything unnecessary. Just do what needs to be done." He said it and disappeared down the hallway. Ren sat alone before the terminal. A waveform scrolled across the monitor. Normal so far. Rhythmic curves rose and fell in silence. Through the glass window, the corridor leading to the stage was visible. Haruka walked through it. Her red hair caught the stage lighting and glowed. Her costume was a white dress. Her spine was straight. Her footsteps didn't waver. But—Ren could see her back was tense, shoulders slightly rigid. Her shoulder blades were drawn together. Her clenched fists had gone pale. Ren held their breath. Haruka disappeared into the stage wings. She didn't look back. —Protect her. Ren turned back to the terminal. Watching the waveform. Their hands trembled slightly. --- The opening chime rang. Applause rose from the audience. Soft, but unmistakable. Even from fewer than fifty people, the density of that applause was thick. Each person clapping with genuine force. The intro began to play. Ren kept watching the waveform monitor. Normal. Normal. Normal—. Haruka's voice came through. Even through the speakers, it was clear. It spread through the hall. The audience's breathing shifted. Ren could feel them being drawn in entirely, even through the monitor. Then, four minutes later. A red spike shot across the waveform monitor. A beep. The terminal sounded an alert. Simultaneously, the speakers distorted. Haruka's voice mixed with noise. The lights flickered once. Twice. A ripple of unease spread through the audience. Ren's fingers moved to the keyboard. Stay calm. Watch the waveform. The interference signal's frequency displayed in red. It matched the filter activation conditions. Press the manual confirmation button—. The moment Ren hit Enter, the sound returned. Haruka's voice flowed from the speakers again. The lights stabilized. The audience's murmuring quieted. Ren typed a message to Yao: "[serious]Interference confirmed, filter activated. Begin reverse-tracing." On the other end of the terminal, Yao was moving. Numbers updated. The source narrowing began. Ren didn't take their eyes off the waveform. Haruka's voice continued. One song ended. Applause rose. The next song began. Seven minutes later, the second spike came. This time the frequency was slightly different. They'd changed the pattern. But—the filter treated that shift as within expected parameters. It was a variation of the Void Sign patterns Ren had already fed into the system. Ren hit Enter again. This time, the sound didn't distort. It never reached the audience. Ren exhaled. A message arrived from Yao on the terminal. "[serious]Source identified. Abandoned building in Shione Ward, approximately 1.2km east of the office. Sending coordinates to Rintarou." Ren looked at the screen. A red dot glowed on the map. The building's location. An abandoned building—if it was that area of Shione Ward, it definitely existed. A building that had been empty for years, waiting for redevelopment. The coordinates were sent to Rintarou. Read receipt came through. That was all. No reply from Rintarou. He was already moving. Ren kept watching the screen. Haruka's voice spread through the hall. --- The moment the final song ended, applause erupted from the audience. Loud. From fewer than fifty people, that much sound came. Unrestrained, all-out applause. Someone shouted "Haruka!" Another voice joined. The hall warmed with energy. Ren collapsed to the floor in front of the terminal. Not onto the chair. Onto the floor. Knees down, both hands on the ground. The hands were shaking. Ren realized they were shaking. All the tension drained away at once. They'd done it. The live had run to completion. Two interference attempts came, and both were blocked. Not a single song of Haruka's was cut off. Those people in the audience got to hear it all. Footsteps approached. The sound control booth door opened. Ren looked up. Haruka stood in the doorway. Still in costume. White dress, disheveled red hair, sweat marks on her cheeks. Her eyes found Ren. Haruka's mouth opened slowly. "[gentle]We did it, Ren." Just one sentence. That was all. A dimple appeared. She was smiling through tears. Ren couldn't find words. Something was caught in their throat. "Thank you" didn't fit. "I'm glad" didn't fit. Nothing seemed right. Ren took in Haruka's smile head-on. The light Ren had seen on that street billboard that night in the cheap inn, and the light before them now—they were the same. What Ren wanted to protect. They'd protected it. Ren simply gave a small nod. Haruka smiled once more, small and soft. Then she turned and walked back down the hallway. Ren remained on the floor, hands pressed down, for a while longer. Something lingered in their chest. Ren couldn't tell if it was pain or warmth. It was just there. Ren wanted to look away. But there was nowhere to look. --- Several days passed. The evidence Rintarou had secured—an illegal relay device installed in a room of the abandoned building, and a storage device containing the complete source code of the program that auto-generated Void Signs—was submitted to SAF's investigation committee. The committee moved. They formally recognized the systematic interference campaign by Void. The industry association released its first official statement. The charge of unauthorized ID card use against Ren was placed on hold due to insufficient evidence. The process of restoring 765 Production's reputation began, and some of the sponsors who had withdrawn made contact. Yao's message came that night. It was short. "[serious]The evidence from this case cannot establish a connection to Eldora Entertainment's technical advisor. A name match and coinciding points alone won't move the needle." Ren read the message. It was what Ren had expected. But seeing it in text made it heavy again. The industry's largest company's technical advisor. A connection to Void. That thread hadn't been cut. It was just unproven, but it was there. And the mystery of the ID card remained unsolved. Why was Ren in this world? Why did Ren have an ID card with no issuance record? Fourteen days had passed since the transfer, and not even a fragment of a clue had surfaced. --- Deep in the night, Ren was on the third floor of 765 Production. Opening the break room window revealed Lumiere City sprawling below. Shione Ward's streetlights lined up at regular intervals. In the distance, Kagari Ward's buildings glowed. Somewhere, a large display screen showed idol live footage. No sound reached this high, but someone was singing on that screen. Ren placed a hand on the window frame. The way home was unknown. There was no guarantee of return. Void's true mastermind was still in the shadows. The connection to Eldora couldn't be proven. The ID card mystery remained untouched. Everything was still unresolved. But there was no more hesitation in Ren's heart. That night in the cheap inn, walls peeling, crying alone. The night Haruka's smile appeared on the street billboard. Something had been decided then. It was confirmed when Ren knelt on the floor of the sound control booth after the live ended, receiving Haruka's smile. Fight alongside these people in this place. That was all Ren could do now. Ren looked out at the night cityscape and breathed quietly. One battle had ended. But Void's true mastermind was still moving somewhere. Even if the relay device in the abandoned building was destroyed, they would make their next move. If the connection to Eldora was real, it meant roots ran deep into the industry's core. And the mystery of why Ren was here felt inextricably linked to 765 Production's crisis. An ID card with no issuance record—that couldn't be coincidence. It had to mean something. The large display screen in the distance switched images. A different idol on a different stage, singing. Ren watched that light. The next question was already beginning.