The golden clock tower at the edge of Wonderton Square began to chime, its deep, melodious tone cutting through the low murmur of conversation among the gathered contestants. A hush fell over the square as the contestants instinctively turned to watch the enormous clock’s hands align at the hour mark. The intricate carvings of cherubs and celestial designs adorning its golden surface caught the afternoon light, casting an ethereal glow over the plaza.
The contestants’ attention, however, quickly shifted to the center of the plaza, where the grand carousel that had seemed purely decorative began to hum softly. The wooden platform beneath the intricately designed mechanical horses rotated slowly, gears clicking into motion. A few contestants stepped back, startled by the sudden movement, but most stood transfixed as the carousel came to life.
With fluid precision, the mechanical horses, previously stationary, stepped off the rotating platform one by one. Their finely crafted forms gleamed in shades of ivory, ebony, and gold. Each horse had a unique design: some sported ornate saddles, while others bore delicate engravings along their metallic hides. Their manes, made of shimmering metallic filaments, flowed as though caught in a breeze.
The NPC concierges stepped forward at this time their long coats trailing elegantly behind them. Each concierge pushed a barouche—a small, open carriage designed to seat four people comfortably. The barouches were painted in pastel tones, their velvet interiors richly colored in shades of red, blue, and green. With quick efficient motions, they attached the barouches to the carousel horses.
As the mechanical steeds lined up, the concierges in their impeccable uniforms bowed low before stepping back. Without drivers, the mechanical horses stood poised, ready to lead the contestants to their final destination.
There was a moment of collective confusion. “Wait, no drivers?” someone muttered, prompting a ripple of whispers across the crowd.
One of the NPC concierges stepped forward as if waiting for this prompt, his voice clear and calm as he addressed the crowd. “Sirs, welcome once again to Wonderton. These carriages will take you to Wonderton Manor, your residence for the duration of your stay. Please find a seat in any available barouche. Each can accommodate four passengers.”
The murmuring grew louder as contestants began to move hesitantly toward the carriages. Some formed small groups with friends or acquaintances they had already made, while others hesitated, unsure whom to approach.
Mi Sha, standing near the edge of the group, let out a quiet chuckle. He leaned toward Phoenix, his earlier acquaintance, and murmured, “The creators of the show are eccentric, don't you think? I get the feeling they like to keep us on our toes.”
Phoenix grinned back, adjusting the strap of his guitar case. “Well, I did hear a lot about Director Loveless’ unconventional ways. Maybe he likes to unsettle people and then watch them flounder.”
Mi Sha let out a short burst of laughter, glittering black eyes dancing with mirth. He protested, “What does it have to do with Loveless anyway? He isn't actually directing the show, you know.”
Phoenix cast him a skeptical look, clearly not buying this public information. “But the production team undoubtedly report to him. Besides, this,” he gestured comprehensively at Wonderton, “has his brand of whimsical chaos.”
“Ah, such a reputation. I feel so wronged for the poor guy in his stead.” Mi Sha tsked and shook his head, still amused.
The two had been walking along the line of barouches while they talked and at this time, Mi Sha's gaze landed on one pulled by an ivory-colored horse with a cotton candy pink mane. He gestured toward it with a carefree smile. “That one looks like it belongs in a candy store. What do you say, Phoenix? Shall we claim it?”
“Let’s do it,” Phoenix replied enthusiastically. The two made their way to the barouche, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones.
The mechanical horse stamped its hooves once as they approached, its glossy ivory body gleaming. Up close, Mi Sha could see the intricate details carved into the horse’s metallic hide—delicate floral patterns that seemed almost too fine to be real.
As they waited, two more contestants approached the barouche. One was a familiar young man with a tall, thin frame and a pale, almost withdrawn fragility. His dark gray eyes looked up at Mi Sha to Phoenix before he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment and climbed in, sitting on the seat opposite them with his cello case propped by his feet. The other contestant, slightly shorter and more sharply dressed, followed. His rich, chestnut hair was neatly styled, and his sharp features gave him a refined, almost aristocratic look. He glanced at Mi Sha briefly before settling into the seat beside Augustus.
Rozier Damião, framed against the velvet upholstery of the barouche, lounged with all the careless grace of someone fully aware of their own worth. Known for a magnetic presence on the web through his personal social media accounts where he posted images of himself that were equal parts compelling and captivating, he sat as if he were the only one worth looking at, a veritable storm brewing in his silence. The afternoon sunlight caught the golden rims of his glasses, reflecting a brilliance that was only matched by the custom-made diamond encrusted holocom on his left wrist.
Once everyone was seated, the mechanical horse gave a soft whinny and began to move. The barouche glided smoothly over the cobblestones, joining the procession of carriages making their way toward Wonderton Manor.
They moved at a steady pace, the rhythmic clatter of the mechanical horse’s hooves creating a soothing backdrop to the otherwise quiet ride. The path led them through the heart of Wonderton, past whimsical shops and charming houses that seemed to belong to another era. Delicate flower boxes hung from windowsills, and intricate iron street lamps lined the cobbled streets.
Mi Sha sat leaned back, resting an arm casually along the back of the seat. His sharp, narrow jawline relaxed into a natural pout as he observed his companions. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint hum of the mechanical steeds and their artificial hooves striking stone, as well as the laughter and chatter from other barouches.
“So,” Mi Sha began, his tone light and conversational, “it seems a lot of contestants can play instruments. There's Phoenix and his guitar, and now you and your… cello?”
Augustus who sat ram-rod straight blinked, caught off guard by being so suddenly addressed. But he answered politely nevertheless. “Yes. That's correct.”
Mi Sha hummed. “I'm not much of connoisseur but I’ve often found classical music as background noise to be soothing. Especially the deep, resonant notes of a cello. It's too bad I don't play any instruments myself.”
Phoenix looked over with a slightly teasing smile. “I actually thought as much. You seemed the type to play classical music on gramophone while brooding in the dark.”
Mi Sha's lips twitched. “...And I actually didn't peg you to have such a vivid imagination.”
Enjoying the bantering, but not one to be inconsiderate, Phoenix offered a friendly smile at the other two. “Hi. I’m Phoenix Black. This is Mi Sha by the way,” he said, gesturing to his quirky companion who seemed to have forgotten all about introductions. “Mind if we know your names too?”
Augustus smiled back briefly, a polite and distant curve of pale pink, almost bloodless lips for a moment before speaking, his voice deep and mellow like the cello he played. “Augustus Meng,” he said simply, gaze making direct eye contact more out of ingrained manners than any fondness of it.
“And I’m Rozier Damião,” the well-dressed young man added, his tone calm and measured. His gaze cool and observant behind his spectacles as he seemed to gauge them all to a scale he was only privy to.
“So,” Mi Sha picked up where he had left off, training an unnervingly inquisitive gaze on the ethereal beauty of the young man in front of him. “Are you a cellist by hobby or by trade?”
“By trade,” Augustus replied, his voice becoming slightly more animated which offset the previously detached and almost weightless quality of his presence earlier. “I’ve been playing since I was six. I’ve performed with a few orchestras and composed some original pieces.”
Rozier, who had been watching the exchange with a seemingly aloof expression, tilted his head slightly, a hint of curiosity flashing in his dark eyes. “You’re a composer?” he asked, his tone not fluctuating but clearly conveying his intrigue.
It seemed that Mi Sha had inadvertently picked a topic that spoke to all four of them, however their interest and appreciation for classical music had come to be due to their varying backgrounds.
Augustus nodded. “Mostly classical, but I’ve experimented with blending genres.”
Phoenix leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, now I have to ask—what made you join an idol survival show? You seem more like the kind of guy who’d be performing in concert halls than competing on a reality show.”
Augustus hesitated, mouth doing a funny twist that almost seemed sardonic but so fleeting it could have been missed completely. “I suppose the answer would be that I wanted to challenge myself, to see if a completely different environment might inspire something.”
Mi Sha wondered thoughtfully. “Inspiration for your music?”
Augustus gave a slow nod. “Something like that.”
Phoenix raised an eyebrow, sensing something more to it than that but didn't prod. He was no stranger to personal quagmires, from witnessing it in others and even experiencing them himself.
The barouche continued its journey, the scenery shifting from the whimsical charm of Wonderton’s streets to more open countryside. Fields of wildflowers stretched out on either side of the road, their vibrant colors swaying gently in the breeze.
Phoenix, with his abundance of EQ, kept the atmosphere light with humorous anecdotes about his life as a street musician, drawing occasional laughter from the group. Likewise, Mi Sha settled in an easy banter with Phoenix, finding himself surprisingly delighted at the ease with which the other matched his flighty train of thoughts.
Though still reserved, Augustus engaged more than he had at the start. That ephemeral gaze seeming to become more substantial as the conversation continued, full of the abrupt starts and stops of topics from Mi Sha and Phoenix smoothing and rounding any jagged ends. Even Rozier, who had initially exuded a lofty air about him, snorted once or twice in a totally unrefined manner. He observed Mi Sha with a contemplative expression, as if trying to figure out what made the other boy tick.
Not long, the barouches halted one by one at the entrance of the manor, a grand fountain rising at the center of the drive, its crystalline spray catching the golden rays of sunlight like playful water sprites before diving back down into the azure depths at the bottom of the fountain. The rhythmic clinking ceased, and the contestants began filing out, each greeted by a rustle of anticipation from unseen NPC staff members and an audience of flickering drones capturing every breath, every glance—
All against a backdrop of the palatial estate rising in grand splendor before them, all marble columns and cascading terraces of flowers. Several exclamations of awe and admiration sounded as the 200 young men from various backgrounds finally gathered at the very place where either their dreams were to be made or shattered.
AN: apologies for the wait, another original basically took over my writing time. Starting several wips is not a great idea but I never seem to be able to help myself orz ?
