Chapter 684:
Zander walked steadily to the microphone, drawing in a slow breath to steady himself. For a brief moment, the room fell into silence, the air thick with anticipation. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but resolute. “Let’s begin.”
All eyes fixed on him, none more piercing than Beal’s, who observed with undisguised scrutiny, a flicker of expectation gleaming in his stare, as though he were waiting eagerly for Zander to stumble.
He was certain that, of everyone present, he alone knew the truth. Zander’s voice had been thoroughly destroyed by delayed treatment, and there was no possibility of it ever returning to its former brilliance. Among all the candidates here today, no one posed a real threat to him.
The prelude drifted in softly, filling the room with a quiet tension.
Then Zander opened his mouth and released the very first note. In an instant, the entire control room fell into a hushed stillness.
That voice…
Rylie’s fingers, which had been idly twirling a pen, came to a sudden stop. Her eyes lit with genuine interest as she leaned forward slightly. “He’s altered his style of singing.”
Zander’s voice, though once damaged, had nearly regained perfection after surgery. The injury to his vocal cords had not vanished entirely, but he had reshaped the lingering huskiness into something distinctive, a deep metallic resonance that set him apart.
It was completely transformed from the style he had once been known for.
The judges in the control room, at first merely attentive, soon found themselves utterly engrossed. Some even revealed faint smiles of admiration as his voice carried through the speakers.
“No wonder he has held the position of NovaRush’s lead singer for so long. His musical instincts are extraordinary.”
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“Beal’s performance was impressive, but compared with Zander’s command, it pales. He turned what was once a flaw into an advantage, and his voice now holds an allure even greater than before.”
Beal’s earlier confidence and defiance, so boldly displayed when Zander first began to sing, crumbled within moments. His expression stiffened, his face drained of color, and disbelief clouded his eyes.
How could this be happening?
Zander’s voice had recovered. How could it have recovered so completely?
The song came to an end, yet the resonance lingered in the recording studio, echoing in every corner as though reluctant to fade.
A profound silence enveloped the room.
Rylie set down her pen, her voice clear and resonant through the microphone, reaching every corner. “Tone, technique, emotional depth, stage presence — Zander’s performance is flawless, beyond dispute.”
Her judgment was met with unanimous agreement from the evaluators. Even the other two candidates accepted it without resistance, offering words of admiration. “Incredible. The lead singer’s seat can only belong to you.”
Beal stood in the corner, his eyes fixed on Zander, who was still bathed in the spotlight. His gaze burned with fury, a storm barely contained.
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