Chapter 37: Red Beans

Chapter 37: Red

In the backstage lounge, a petite girl with deep crimson hair sat before a vanity mirror. She stared at her reflection, her nervous fingers trembling uncontrollably.

"Calm down. This isn't your first performance. You've practiced in the rehearsal room so many times; how can a guitarist get cold feet now?"

She clenched her fists, but the harder she tried to steady herself, the more agitated she became. She looked at the guitar case beside her and clicked the latches open. With a soft snap, the lid lifted, but inside lay no guitar. Instead, it was filled with disassembled parts—only she knew that these unremarkable components could be assembled into a formidable weapon.

"Looking at those things again?"

A girl’s voice suddenly came from behind, and a soft hand rested gently on her shoulder. "Too nervous?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You're just being stubborn, Red. You don't need to push yourself to this point. It’s just a show; just play as you normally would. Who would have thought that our fearless guitarist would have moments of stage fright?"

The girl ignored Red’s protest, stroking her long crimson hair. "You always say that looking at these things keeps you from being nervous. They were an inseparable part of you, weren't they? You’ve never wanted to tell us about their past—can you be honest now?"

Red’s fingers rested on a short rod inside the case. The cold touch stirred distant memories. "That was all in the past. I once had a black-hearted boss who was always exploiting me. Every day, I had to take up weapons to fight and wipe out those Originium Slugs."

"If he was such a black-hearted boss, why did you stay with him?"

Red shook her head with a smile. "You know I’m Sarkaz. In many places, the treatment we receive is much worse than other races. That’s how I felt back then—I thought it was good enough just to find someone willing to take me in. If there were grievances, I just endured them. So, I picked up my weapon and fought desperately for him, battling those monsters, not even having time to practice my guitar."

"Of course, it wasn't without its perks. My combat skills improved rapidly, and with the innate talents of the Sarkaz, I basically never missed a battle. My pay was much higher than those comrades who couldn't go out to fight. My black-hearted boss never missed a paycheck, and even when I was exhausted and took my temper out on him, he never held a grudge. And so, life went on, and I even bought a new instrument."

As she spoke, a relaxed smile bloomed on her face. Even though she was describing a miserable past of exploitation, it had become a memory she couldn't let go of.

"You seem to like him quite a bit; you don't sound like someone who was exploited at all... Hey, don't hit me! I'm sorry, keep going."

Red pulled her hand back, glared at her companion, and retorted, "That was just at the beginning. Later, after a crazy woman with a hammer arrived, I didn't go out on missions as much. I could only spend my time burning discs at the processing station, working at least ten hours a day. Sometimes, I’d get to rest for a dozen days straight. I used to wonder, what did my black-hearted boss need so many discs for? Was he going to switch careers and become a bootlegger? People who sell pirated discs in Lungmen all end up in jail."

"So, were you fired by him later? You ran off to the Infected community to start a band and go on a world tour—you really shocked me back then."

Red snorted bitterly. "That wretched guy! He promised me something—he promised everyone that we would go to Siesta for a vacation. But when I had all my luggage packed, he suddenly disappeared. No matter how we searched, we couldn't find him. Everyone looked for a long time, and we even posted missing person notices in nearby mobile cities, but he just vanished into thin air. Neither hide nor hair of him."

"I see, so you started this tour just to find him?"

"I am not doing this to find him!" Red slammed the case shut and stood up abruptly, her intimidating presence forcing the girl behind her to take several steps back.

"He’s just a jerk, a scumbag, an unscrupulous boss! Why should I be the one looking for him? If I find him, I’ll definitely poke a few holes through him!"

"Wow, you really hate him that much? You can't forgive him at all? What if he had some unavoidable reason for leaving?"

Red fell silent for a moment, as if she hadn't heard the implications in her friend's words. She rubbed her face, her speech becoming muffled. "I don't know. Anyway, I can't forgive him. Miss Ifrit's eyes were swollen from crying; she said that if he was dead, she would finish his remaining research for him. Even if she ends up dying of sickness out there, she never wants to return to a place of such sorrow. It was too late for me to chase after her."

"Wait, who is Ifrit? Research work? Is she a scholar? Just how much debt did that guy owe you?"

Red grabbed her guitar and headed toward the exit, muttering angrily, "Forget it! Forget it! If he still has a conscience and shows up at the venue today, then I'll forgive him—at least I won't have to stab him with my spear!"

But Red knew in her heart that it was impossible. How could someone they had exhausted all their efforts to find just suddenly appear before her? And the swimsuit he had promised to buy her—she had been secretly happy about it for a long time, but she never got it. He had run off so lightly, and now, who knew where in the world he was, living his life carefree.

Hmph, just a black-hearted scumbag. No need to care at all, no need to keep him in her heart.

Watching Red walk out of the lounge, the girl who remained behind lowered her gaze. If she truly felt so relieved, why was her heart still lingering on him? A poor, conflicted soul.

...

"Next up, we have a brand new group! Their heavy metal rock music has been praised by 'Sunset.' You resilient souls, strike up your music! Here, you are the true masters of the stage!"

The first low, heavy notes rang out, a soul-stirring melody that vibrated through every audience member. Four girls with distinct styles emerged from the mist, immediately seizing the rhythm of the crowd.

"They're Infected!"

A shout suddenly erupted from the crowd. The audience, previously dancing to the music, began to stir, and the rock rhythm on stage inevitably faltered for a moment.

Zhou Jinrui sat in a corner, sipping a free drink and listening to the music. When that cry rang out, he couldn't help but sigh. There really was someone trying to stir up trouble; those who opposed the Infected would never miss a chance to attack them. But these people surely hadn't seen a true master of rhythm...

He set down his drink and stood up suddenly, activating his talent. Instantly, the emotions of the people around him gathered like a stream, transforming into a surging, unstoppable river. Meanwhile, his own sanity began a steady decline.

"No problem. I can hold this for ten minutes. Emotional guidance—isn't that just 'stirring the rhythm'? Opportunities are always reserved for those who can cheat..."