On the grand stage adorned with elaborate designs, Averil, clad in hier white “battle dress,” danced confidently, completely unaware of what was happening.
In the backstage control room, Julian’s gaze was glued to a different livestream.
On the screen, a fiery red figure moved gracefully, needing neither lights nor stage effects. Her presence alone transformed the essence of dance into something raw and breathtaking.
Meanwhile, the viewership of the show’s official livestream was plummeting. Like Julian, audiences were abandoning it in droves, flocking instead to the private livestream.
The comment section was exploding the scrolling text nearly obscuring the red figure:
“Words fail me–this is insane!”
“Wow, after watching Victoria’s performance, Averil’s just a poor imitation.”
“Now it all makes sense why Averil claimed Victoria was forcing her to admit to plagiarism–a classic case of the thief crying ‘thief.“”
“Did anyone notice how Victoria is putting all her weight on one leg? It’s like she’s actually injured.”
“If the injury’s fake, her ability to mimic the movements of someone injured is pure artistry. If it’s real, then executing those high–difficulty moves on one leg is nothing short of extraordinary!”
“Injury or not, all I can say is that Victoria Dean has been seriously undated.”
I
In the control room, one of the show’s judges hesitantly asked Julian, whose face had darkened. “Mr. Ford, under these circumstances, how should we score the performances?”
Julian tore his gaze away from the screen with visible difficulty. “Stick to the original plan.”
“But the audience reaction-”
“But
“You’re the experts,” Julian snapped, his irritation clear. “Isn’t it up to you to decide how to judge?”
When my dance ended, I exhaled deeply, releasing the pent–up frustration that had been weighing on me. I headed to the dressing room to change into fresh clothes.
Once I’d composed myself, I tuned in to the official livestream, just in time to see the bribed judges lavishing exaggerated praise on Averil and going out of their way to disparage me.
‘Averil’s performance embodies the essence of true dance. From technique to emotional resonance, it’s flawless. Victoria Dean’s performance, on the other hand, relies on tired tricks. to grab attention…”
+25 BONUS
Chapter 24
I smirked, utterly unfazed by their blatant criticism. It didn’t bother me in the slightest.
Those so–called “experts,” perched on their high horses, always believed they were superior and capable of deceiving the masses.
But, as I had said before, one didn’t need to be a dance expert to understand beauty.
It was blatantly obvious who copied whom between Averil and me.
I opened the comments section, and sure enough, the audience shared my sentiments. They were tearing into the show for its blatant favoritism:
“So, the Dancer Show rigged it for Averil to win from the start? The more you think about it, the scarier it gets.
“All that grand stage design and top–tier team support, and she still lost to Victoria with just a mini speaker? Honestly, I feel embarrassed for Averil.”
