The stage lights dimmed, and a wave of bright gold swept across the massive arena.

The Global Competition Finals had officially begun.

Cheers shook the walls. Flags waved in the air. Cameras zoomed in on faces full of anticipation.

Every continent had its representative, every fan had someone to root for, and the world was watching.

"Welcome to the grand finale!" the host's voice boomed through the hall, echoed by the crowd's roar.

"Eight finalists. One stage. One global champion!"

Dayo and Alice sat in the VIP booth. The screen below displayed the lineup:

Min-Jae, Emily, Misha, Frank, Sophie, Amara, Matteo, and Lucas — artists from different corners of the world.

One by one, they performed.

---

Matteo, the pop singer from Italy, opened with a fierce EDM track.

His performance was flashy, filled with dancers and pyrotechnics — the crowd cheered, phones in the air.

Amara, the R&B artist from Africa, followed with a soulful ballad that had the hall swaying.

Lucas Rivera, from Brazil, delivered a heavy rock fusion piece that rattled the speakers.

The energy climbed higher with every set.

Then came Misha.

Her outfit shimmered silver under the lights. The moment she stepped out, the crowd screamed.

She sang with calm precision but a voice full of raw emotion. Midway through, she switched to a high register that silenced even the noisiest corners of the hall.

When she ended, the entire arena erupted in applause. Even the judges stood briefly to clap.

"Beautiful control," Alice murmured. "She might be top three."

Dayo nodded silently.

Then came Emily.

Her stage was different — calm, artistic.

She played live piano while singing, surrounded by soft blue lights.

It wasn't the loudest performance, but it hit deep. Her voice trembled with emotion, especially during the bridge where she switched into a spoken line that made the audience gasp.

"She's improved," Dayo whispered. "Way better than before."

"Yeah," Alice said softly. "That was almost flawless."

And then came Min-Jae.

The arena went wild before he even sang.

The crowd chanted his name — "Min-Jae! Min-Jae!" — in unison.

He was calm, poised, and confident. The ladies screamed the loudest, shouting "Oppa!"

He stood under a single spotlight — no band, no dancers. Just a mic and a slow piano.

The melody began, a mix of English and Korean, telling the story of his childhood, his family, and his dreams.

Every word carried weight. His voice cracked at points, not from mistake — but from emotion.

It was real, and it hit everyone in the heart.

By the time he finished, the entire hall stood.

A standing ovation that lasted over a minute.

The cameras caught tears in people's eyes.

Dayo smiled faintly. "That's it. That's the one."

Alice nodded. "He just locked himself in top three easily."

Then came Sophie Zhang, a performer from China with a bright pop anthem full of choreography.

Her energy was loud and infectious, and the audience danced along.

She closed strong, earning loud cheers.

Finally, it was Frank's turn.

The lights turned red.

Smoke filled the stage.

Frank walked out in a sleek black suit, flanked by backup dancers.

His song was aggressive — a hip-hop track about "rising above the weak."

His rap was sharp, his moves confident, and the performance looked expensive.

But compared to Min-Jae's raw emotion, it felt… mechanical.

Flashy, yes — but something about it lacked soul.

Still, the crowd clapped loudly, waving banners with his name.

When the song ended, Frank smirked, pointing his mic toward the audience before walking off.

Alice leaned back. "Okay, visually strong. But emotionally? Nothing beats Min-Jae tonight."

Dayo didn't reply. He was watching the judges' table.

Michael sat just behind them, phone in hand again, typing something without even looking up.

---

After the final performance, the host returned to the stage, microphone in hand.

"And now… the results!"

The massive LED screen behind him began flashing names and colors.

The tension in the hall thickened — every contestant stood in a line, faces tight with nerves.

"The first elimination…"

A pause.

"…Matteo."

Polite claps.

"The second elimination… Amara."

A sigh spread through the crowd.

Two gone. Six left.

"Next up… Emily."

The sound that followed wasn't applause — it was shock.

The crowd gasped. Even the judges exchanged looks.

"Emily?" people whispered. "Wait — what?"

Dayo's brows furrowed. "What the hell…?"

Alice leaned forward. "That's not right."

Even Emily looked confused on stage, her smile forced. She bowed politely and stepped back, but her eyes said it all.

The next name dropped — and this time, it was louder.

"The fourth position… Min-Jae!"

The hall fell into stunned silence.

Then the whispers started again — louder, angrier.

> "No way."

"That's impossible!"

"Did they even watch his performance?"

"He had the loudest ovation!"

"How is this even possible?"

"This feels so staged!"

The fans murmured so long that it took a while to calm the arena.

The judges didn't give any explanation and simply waved at the MC to continue.

Dayo's fists clenched. His expression stayed neutral, but Alice could see it — he was furious.

Min-Jae bowed slowly, forcing a small smile as the camera zoomed in.

His eyes searched the audience, and when they found Dayo, he gave a small nod — like saying it's fine, even though it wasn't.

Dayo exhaled slowly. He didn't believe this for a second.

Then came the final three — Misha, Sophie, and Frank.

"The third place goes to… Misha!"

The audience clapped, though half-heartedly.

"The second place… Sophie!"

The screams rose — mostly from her fans.

And then, as the confetti dropped, the announcer's voice rang loud:

> "And the winner of the Global Competition 2025… is Frank Kane!"

The arena erupted — but not in full celebration.

Some cheered, but others booed loudly.

The air was split between applause and disbelief.

Frank raised his trophy high, smiling like he expected it.

Cameras flashed from every direction.

Alice muttered, "There it is. The setup."

Dayo didn't move. His jaw was tight. He didn't need eyes to know this was staged.

The whole thing felt like a familiar pattern of manipulation — like someone had rewritten the rules in plain sight.

Across the VIP section, Michael sat smiling — calm, pleased, proud.

Their eyes met once more.

And in that silence, it was clear he was sending a message.

The real game had just begun.

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