They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System

Chapter 385: The Performance of a Lifetime

Abuchi moved, not with the awkwardness of someone trying to impress, but with the fluid command of someone who owned the very stage he stood on. His dance wasn’t flashy, but every motion was deliberate, sharp, clean. Art.

His outfit shimmered under the lights, a tailored fusion of royal and modern, flowing like liquid metal with each step. The symbol of Lionara etched over his chest sparkled each time he turned.

His voice rose again:

🎵”Not for gold, not for throne, not for fame,

But for hearts that dared whisper my name.

I rise not alone, but with every cry,

That dared to dream beneath this sky.”🎶

The hall erupted.

People gasped, clapped, cried out softly. Guests who had been stiff and formal were now gripping their seats, leaning forward, unable to blink.

Some stood.

Obinna’s jaw dropped. He actually forgot to breathe. “That’s my brother…” he muttered, blinking fast. “He’s—he’s actually…”

Nnenna covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide, glimmering.

Queen Chioma?

She was beyond shocked.

When Abuchi first started chasing music in junior high, she had been one of the first to shut it down. So had King Ikechukwu, Obinna, Ebere… almost the entire royal family. No one thought it was a path worth walking.

Except Somto.

He had quietly encouraged him, despite the backlash.

And of course, no one even thought to ask for Nnenna’s opinion.

Chidera was far too young to understand anything at the time.

To the rest of the family, Abuchi’s dream was just that, a foolish, childish dream.

What did a boy barely in his teens know about the brutal industry? He would crash. Burn. Suffer without their help.

And so, they made sure he did.

When Abuchi insisted on juggling music with his academics, not a single one of them gave him support. Not emotionally. Not financially. Not even a whisper of encouragement behind closed doors.

that glittering,

whatever invisible power had

didn’t know.

then, he had been just another hopeful face with no background, no protection. A soft target in a sea of sharks. Those early artists who

of them hadn’t

to cripple

Queen Chioma remembered.

her late husband had watched it all unfold from behind palace walls, Abuchi’s grind, his little wins,

still agreed: No

walk

somehow, he made

forgettable films, he sang his heart out,

He struck gold.

track he had written in the dark,

said it could

turned him into a

no choice. They revealed his identity, the third

It broke.

his name, the world

who had

too far

didn’t even look

time not on their phone screens, or filtered through

Up close.

Undeniable.

in stunned silence, watching with quiet, dignified

Her son.

His brother.

Their brother.

full of

With a single song.

Online?

It broke.

NIGHT. I WOULD BE SICK

came for Somto. I stayed for

better than White Night’s

wasn’t a performance. That

His polished calm cracked

shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know he was

to,” White Night said under

the livestreamers

from the kitchen, threw aside