Chapter 683:
I followed your instructions, but this time your message doesn’t include any English story text to correct — only the guidelines.
As soon as there’s a fragment or chapter after your instructions, I’ll return it corrected: same story, better coherence and grammar, no ads/delivery lines, and only quotes for dialogue.
Beal just couldn’t understand the situation. What on earth was happening? Why would these musicians, who so often scoffed at “unspoken rules,” suddenly rally in Rylie’s defense? To protect Rylie, they’d even be willing to lose an excellent singer like him?
Rylie leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady and composed as it settled on Beal. “I won’t favor Zander simply because I know him. I judge fairly. If your voice can move me, that alone will suffice.”
“Beal, do you still intend to compete for the lead singer position?” the seasoned producer asked coolly. “If so, sit down and wait for your turn. If not, the door is right there. Leave. Don’t make a fool of yourself here.”
The shift from being regarded as the underdog to suddenly appearing as the one who held control over his own fate struck Beal like a heavy psychological blow. It was not something he could easily accept, all the more so because he had so arrogantly sneered at Rylie in the elevator a few minutes ago.
Once he had convinced himself that Rylie would inevitably show favoritism toward Zander, his composure began to collapse. His earlier confidence gave way to unease, and his thoughts unraveled piece by piece.
His eyes wavered toward the exit, yet in the end, he clenched his teeth and sat back down. After all, he had spent years enduring humiliation, currying favor with Elaine and lying low, all in preparation for this very moment.
There were four candidates in total for the lead singer audition, Zander included. They each came forward in turn to perform.
Zander was arranged to go last, while the other three finished one after another. Rylie, headphones on, twirled a pen slowly between her fingers, occasionally lowering her eyes to jot brief notes on each candidate’s profile.
м๏гє υρ∂คтєร คт gคlภ๏שєlร.ς๏๓
When Beal’s voice drifted into Rylie’s ears, her pen stilled for an instant, and her brows lifted ever so slightly.
Had she not known that Zander had not yet performed, she might have mistaken Beal’s voice for his. This man named Beal had copied Zander in every detail, down to the very cadence of his tone.
Even Zander himself noticed the deliberate mimicry, the way Beal shaped his voice to mirror his own. Internally, he rolled his eyes at such a shameless display, yet he could not…
deny the truth—Beal’s performance was flawless, the result of relentless practice and years of effort. His own voice, on the other hand, had only just recovered…
Almost unconsciously, Zander lifted a hand to his throat, unease stirring within him.
As Beal’s song drew to a close, a look of satisfaction settled on his face. He straightened his posture, confidence radiating as he turned to Rylie. “Miss Owen, I trust you will deliver a fair judgment, one that won’t disappoint NovaRush’s fans or anyone else.”
Rylie gave no direct response. Instead, her gaze shifted to Zander, and with a calm nod, she said, “Your turn.”
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