Chapter 783
Chapter 783:
From “Yesterday” to “Us,” then “Deep Sea,” “Journey,” and “Sculpture,” she sang one after another.
It was as though she lived it all again—falling, then rising from the ashes, carving out her own name against the storm.
In the crowd, tears streamed down faces. Fans saw their own struggles mirrored in hers. The songs weren’t truly sorrowful; they carried power and hope, yet somehow still drew tears. They felt like companions through life’s trials, whispering courage to start over. The emotions ran deep—heavy, yet freeing.
Millie fought her battles on stage, while her fans fought theirs in the seats. None of it had been easy, but they all stood strong.
Her voice soared. The crowd’s cries answered. And the cage around her spirit began to tremble.
When the final note of “Sculpture” faded, silence filled the hall. Millie looked down at countless tearful faces. Her eyes reddened, but she smiled. Then, at last, the applause burst out, fierce and endless.
A summer breeze drifted through the night. Millie gazed at the dark sky, knowing the end was near.
She steadied herself. “This is the last song. A brand-new piece—’Me p>
The stage dimmed, then lit again. Millie stepped forward. Holding the mic, she sang slowly, her voice rising toward the peak.
“Me” carried the spirit of “Sculpture.” It told of joys and wounds, of love and hate, of falling and rising again.
Drones lifted into the air. The butterfly from the opening returned, glowing with cracks. Its proud wings were torn and broken, barely holding on. No matter how fierce, it too could fall.
Life was never smooth water. It was breaking and mending, over and over, until strength was forged—just like the butterfly now.
Millie’s voice wrapped around the moment, leading herself and her listeners deeper into the song’s heart. The broken butterfly was her reflection. Every note carried her journey.
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This song declared that only by standing tall could one break their shackles and carve a new road.
The drums thundered. Her voice soared. Then—clang!
It seemed something had shattered. Above, the butterfly burst into flames, its wings burning at the edges. The stage erupted in fire, as though everything were set ablaze. Millie stood at the center, unshaken.
Some in the crowd cried out in fear, but she did not flinch. The flames flickered across her face.
She looked like a butterfly fighting for life inside the fire. Her voice climbed higher. Behind her, under the lights, wings seemed to unfold.
In the sky, the great butterfly beat its wings again, reborn with brilliance. This time, its wings shone brighter than ever, glowing through the fire—just like Millie.
She was the butterfly. She was Millie. She was Me—the same “Me” hidden in every soul present tonight.
As Millie’s voice soared through the electrified atmosphere, each note climbed with breathtaking intensity, perfectly synchronizing with the blazing inferno that erupted around her mesmerizing form.