The manager blinked. "Lucas Freed—my artist. We’ve been planning his debut for so ti now."
Rafael raised an eyebrow, clearly still drawing a blank. It was obvious he had no clue who Lucas was, and it baffled him even more to realize that this manager was confidently preparing a potentially major debut under his nose.
"I’ve never heard of this person before. Why are you preparing such a grand debut for him? No one ntioned scouting soone like this, and I certainly wasn’t consulted. This is the first ti I’m hearing about it."
Rafael leaned forward over his desk, his chin resting on his clasped hands. Seeing him like that, the manager imdiately sensed trouble. He swallowed hard and carefully set down his coffee cup before beginning to explain.
"Mr. Briley, I sincerely apologize for the oversight and for not keeping you fully inford. But Lucas Freed is actually an artist personally scouted by your sister, Minerva, from the Performing Arts departnt at her university. We heard him sing, and his voice holds incredible potential. On top of that, he composes his own music—and I’ve seen so of his work. It’s impressive, truly."
"I believe he could beco one of our major assets after his debut. That’s why I decided a grand launch would be the best strategy. If everything goes well, we could position him for the annual Grammy Awards—Best Music, Best Sales, Best Composer, and Best New Artist. Winning those could bring us massive traction online, and our other artists could benefit from the exposure, leading to more collaborations and increased revenue."
The manager smiled confidently as he laid out his vision to Rafael.
"It’s an admirable goal," Rafael said calmly, though his gaze sharpened as he studied the manager before him. "But I doubt that’s the only reason you’re pushing for such a grand debut, is it?"
His eyes were dark and unreadable, the weight of his stare alone enough to make the manager crack under pressure.
"You’re right, Mr. Briley," the manager admitted with a nervous chuckle, followed by a heavy sigh. "You’re not soone who can be easily fooled."
He paused before continuing.
"My rival works as the Music Director at Universal Entertainnt. He recently signed an artist—turns out, it’s a close friend of Lucas. They’re already planning a major debut for him, and from what I’ve heard, they’re really backing the kid. I didn’t want our artist to be overshadowed, so I figured we’d go head-to-head and see whose artist cos out on top, as both a singer and a songwriter."
The manager looked at Rafael almost pleadingly now.
"We actually have a solid shot. Lucas has a great voice and real talent for composing music. His lyrics... well, they still need so work, but that’s natural. He’s young, inexperienced. With the right support and ti, he’ll grow. I truly believe he can be a standout."
"Hmm..." Rafael humd thoughtfully, his gaze lowering to the docunts on his desk. He said nothing, his expression unreadable.
That silence, paired with his apparent disinterest, made the manager uneasy.
This debut was everything to him. He’d already placed all his bets on Lucas’s success, hoping to outshine the rising star from Universal Entertainnt. According to industry whispers, that kid was no ordinary rookie.
He was extraordinary—so much so that UE’s Music Director had gone all in, even convincing their CEO to allocate a significant budget and full support for the newcor’s debut. Whether the Director was exaggerating to justify the spending or the hype was real, the result was the sa: the stakes were high.
If Lucas didn’t make a splash now, he’d be completely overshadowed. Worse, he’d be seen as nothing more than a contrast to highlight soone else’s brilliance—a re foil. And in this industry, missing your debut window could an fading into obscurity before even getting a real chance.
"If you’re done, then you may leave. I have more important matters to attend to," Rafael said coolly, his voice flat with disinterest as he kept his eyes on the docunts spread across his desk.
The manager’s heart skipped a beat. Panic crept in. He had already started making arrangents for Lucas’ debut—studios were booked, the concept was in motion, and Lucas had written a promising song. He was already deep into rehearsals for the recording.
If he failed to secure the budget increase now, all the groundwork he had laid would crumble. Everything he had invested—ti, effort, expectations—could go to waste.
"Mr. Briley, please increase my budget?" the manager asked, almost bowing in desperation. "I’ll take full responsibility. Once the first album is released, I promise we’ll earn back ten tis what we put into marketing, recording, and all related expenses!"
Rafael paused, his pen resting silently on the desk.
This manager, despite his obsessive rivalry with the Music Director from Universal Entertainnt, had a sharp eye for talent. That much was undeniable. But no matter how many tis he clashed with that Music Director, he always ca up short. Whether it was bad luck or because the other man genuinely had better instincts, the result was the sa: he lost. Every. Ti.
And Rafael had no desire to fund another petty rivalry.
If it were just a matter of pushing his team to do better, Rafael could tolerate the manager’s competitiveness. But when it ca to throwing more money into that rivalry? That was a different story entirely. Especially when his money was on the line.
Besides, if UE was going all-out for their newcor, that alone was telling. The kid was likely a rare talent. And while Rafael had heard praise about Lucas’s voice and potential, he still hadn’t seen or heard any of the young artist’s compositions himself.
Without concrete proof of Lucas’s capability, how could he justify doubling down on such a costly gamble?
Sensing Rafael’s hesitation, the manager silently pulled out his phone and placed it on the desk in front of him.
"Alright, Mr. Briley. Please listen to this composition first," he said, before pressing play without waiting for a response.
A soft instruntal began to fill the room. It was a blend of lively rhythm and soulful undertones—fresh, vibrant, and emotionally resonant. The kind of sound that could easily captivate younger audiences. The manager had known it the mont he first heard it: this track had potential. Not only was it marketable, but it also carried a quality that set it apart—sothing rare.
The piece lasted just over four minutes. Throughout the playback, Rafael remained silent, his eyes distant and unreadable. He didn’t fidget, didn’t speak, didn’t even blink much. The manager couldn’t tell whether the song was making an impression or if Rafael’s mind had wandered elsewhere entirely.
Still, he waited. Quietly hopeful.
Once the composition ended, Rafael finally spoke.
"And what about the full version—with lyrics?" His voice was calm, but firm.
The lody had promise, yes, but Rafael knew better than to judge a song by its instruntal alone. Lyrics could make it break it. He needed to know exactly what he was investing in before making any decisions.
At his question, the manager imdiately looked away, his confident posture faltering. Awkwardness settled in the air as he avoided Rafael’s eyes, his silence speaking volus.
"About that, Mr. Briley... I’m actually in the process of looking for a lyricist," the manager admitted, his voice a little hesitant.
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