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Lord of Entertainment C40 Great Difference
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 00:01:03 +0000 UTCThe insistent knocking on the door roused me from my slumber. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and sat up, my mind quickly snapping to alertness as I remembered where I was and who I was supposed to be.
With practiced ease, I shifted my appearance to that of Arthur Whitlock. While my {Disguise} skill allowed me to maintain the illusion indefinitely, I was always conscious of preserving my mana. Outside of disguising my aura, I preferred to revert to my true demon prince form when alone.
Transformation complete, I opened the door to find Mariana beaming at me, her eyes alight with a joy that was almost painful to witness.
"Son, breakfast is ready," she said, her voice brimming with cheerfulness. "I've personally prepared your meal."
I nodded, offering a small smile in return. "Thank you... That's very kind of you."
As I followed her down the hallway, I couldn't help but marvel at the depth of her enthusiasm. The return of a supposedly dead son was clearly a dream come true for her. It was the kind of miracle that grieving parents hoped for but never truly expected to experience.
Yet, the knowledge Lucy had shared with me last night weighed heavily on my mind. The real Arthur Whitlock was still alive, bound by some mysterious promise with his half-sister. The reasons behind his faked death remained a puzzle, one I was tempted to solve.
"I hope you slept well," Mariana said, glancing back at me with concern. "You seemed a bit... restless when you first came home."
I quickly composed my features, realizing I'd let my inner turmoil show. "I'm still adjusting," I replied carefully. "Everything feels both familiar and strange at the same time."
Mariana's face softened with understanding. "Of course, dear. It must be overwhelming. Just know that we're all here for you, whatever you need."
As we entered the dining room, the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air. The table was laden with an array of dishes, clearly prepared with great care and attention.
"I wasn't sure what you might be in the mood for," Mariana explained, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "So I made a little of everything you used to enjoy."
"This is... incredible," I said, injecting warmth into my voice. "Thank you, truly."
Moments later, the rest of the family gathered in the dining room. Lucy caught my eye, giving a subtle nod which I returned with a smile, our secret understanding passing unnoticed by the others.
Delilah's warm voice greeted me. "Good morning, Arthur."
"Good morning," I replied with a nod, settling into my seat as Layla echoed the greeting.
As was customary, we began with a prayer to the Lord of the Sun, the morning ritual feeling both foreign and oddly comforting. Then, we started our meal.
The hour after breakfast was filled with family interactions, a delicate dance of half-truths and careful responses on my part. As the clock neared 8:00 AM, I made my move to leave for the Rockwell Theatre, knowing I needed to prepare for my 9:00 AM performance.
Just as I was about to make my exit, Ark's voice stopped me. "Arthur, won't you continue your education at the Wizard and Martial High?"
I froze, caught off guard by the question. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy making subtle gestures, clearly trying to guide my response. Wary of using my {Whisper Wind} skill in front of Ark, I tried to interpret her silent message.
"I'll... I'll probably attend again when I remember everything," I said carefully. "For now, I want to focus on my performances..."
Mariana supported, quickly quickly chimed in. "Yes, dear. We'll explain Arthur's situation to the school. They'll understand."
Ark was quiet for a moment, his gaze weighing heavily on me. Finally, he nodded. "Alright... But Arthur, when you remember everything, I expect you to catch up on your studies."
I smiled, relief washing over me. "I will, don't worry."
With final nods from Ark and Mariana, I made my exit. As I left, I noticed Arthur's half-siblings preparing for their own school day, their brief absence yesterday excused by my "return."
Delilah and Layla, however, were taking a break from school, planning to attend my performance at the Rockwell Theatre later.
I made my way to where Alejandro was waiting with the car, settling into the back seat with a sigh of relief. As we pulled away from the Whitlock estate, my mind raced with the implications of the morning's events.
The mention of the Wizard and Martial High was concerning. Sooner or later, I'd need to address that part of Arthur's life. It was one thing to fake being Arthur the musician, but Arthur the student? That would require a whole new level of deception.
For now, though, I had a performance to give. One step at a time, I reminded myself. One carefully calculated step at a time.
***
(Delilah Whitlock POV)
Joy bloomed in my chest at the thought of my brother's return. Today, we would witness his... unconventional music style at the Rockwell Theatre. The anticipation was almost palpable as Mother, Layla, and I made our way to the venue.
The theatre staff, recognizing our high profile, ushered us to the VIP section - front row seats offering an unobstructed view of the stage. As we settled in, I caught snippets of conversation between Mother and Layla, their voices a comforting backdrop to the excited chatter of the crowd around us.
"Demon King is so cool. I hope I'll be that cool one day," a young voice exclaimed nearby.
Another scoffed good-naturedly, "Heh, as if. Demon King's coolness is unreachable, so keep dreaming."
"Hehe, I know," the first voice replied, undeterred.
Their admiration for Arthur was evident, and it left me puzzled. How had my brother transformed so dramatically in just a few weeks? The Arthur I knew and this "Demon King" persona seemed worlds apart.
My musings were interrupted as Arthur - or rather, the Demon King - took the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm infectious.
"Is Saint Angeles ready to receive the Demon King's blessings?" Arthur's voice boomed through the theatre.
"We are ready!!!" The audience roared back, their collective voice making me flinch. Beside me, Layla frowned, equally startled by the volume.
Then, Arthur began to strum his guitar. The sound that filled the theatre was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. It was chaotic, intense, almost overwhelming. The band behind him played with a frenetic energy that seemed to electrify the air.
To my surprise, the audience around us began to move in unison, bobbing their heads up and down in time with the music. It was a bizarre sight, yet somehow mesmerizing.
As Arthur started to sing, I braced myself, expecting to dislike the cacophony. But as the performance continued, I found myself drawn in. The raw emotion in his voice, the pulsing rhythm of the music - it was strangely compelling.
I glanced at Layla, curious about her reaction. To my astonishment, I saw the same growing appreciation reflected in her expression. Even my typically reserved sister was being affected by this unconventional music.
Mother sat rigid in her seat, her face a mask of polite interest. But I could see the confusion in her eyes, the struggle to reconcile this wild performer with the son she remembered.
I couldn't blame her. The music assaulting our ears was chaotic, messy, unpolished, and downright dirty. Yet, as the performance continued, I found myself thinking: it was refreshingly honest. There was a raw authenticity to it that I'd never experienced before.
Layla leaned closer to me, her voice barely audible over the thunderous music. "I didn't think I'd like this kind of song," she confessed, a hint of surprise in her tone. "I don't love it, but I appreciate its freshness."
I nodded, a small smile playing at my lips. "Me too..." I paused, realizing that wasn't entirely accurate. "But unlike you, I think I might actually love brother's music."
Layla's eyebrows shot up, her eyes widening in surprise. "Really? You?" She studied my face, as if trying to determine if I was joking.
I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I know, it's not exactly... refined. But there's something about it. The energy, the emotion. It's like he's pouring his soul into every note."
My sister nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Arthur on stage. "I can see that. It's so different from the brother we knew. He always seemed so... controlled before."
A pang of sadness hit me as I remembered the old Arthur - always striving for perfection, always trying to meet our father's exacting standards. This new version, this 'Demon King', seemed liberated in a way I'd never seen before.
"Do you think..." I hesitated, lowering my voice even further. "Do you think his accident changed him somehow? Made him... freer?"
Layla was quiet for a moment, considering. "Maybe. Or maybe this was always a part of him, just waiting for the right moment to come out."
As we watched Arthur - our brother, the Demon King - command the stage with a fierce joy, I couldn't help but wonder. Who was this person before us? Was this the real Arthur, finally unleashed?
