130-131

Chapter 130: A Brand New World 

Ronan stared at the small, crystal-clear gadget in his hand. It was about the size of a jellybean, made of resin, and he could see the tiny circuits winding inside through its transparent shell. There was a subtle mechanical vibe to it. The wires stretched downward, connecting to a palm-sized black box that looked a bit like a radio. 

What kind of high-tech thing is this? 

Ronan had to admit—he wasn’t exactly worldly. In his past life, his limited vision kept him from truly exploring the unknown. In this life, his experiences and level had held him back from fully diving into the world. He was still learning, growing step by step, one footprint at a time.  

When he didn’t understand something, he asked. Ronan looked up at Cliff and Maxim, his eyes full of curiosity. 

Maxim had the answer. “It’s an in-ear monitor.” He might not have used one himself, but he’d seen them before. Maxim’s professional knowledge was impressive, and he easily cleared up Ronan’s confusion. “During a concert, it lets you hear the music and your own voice.” 

“Why?” Ronan blurted out without thinking. 

Maxim paused for a second, caught off guard. He didn’t have hands-on experience, but his theoretical know-how came through. “Because of the concert venue. All the sound comes through the speakers, and in a big, open space, there’s always a delay in how the sound travels. That can really mess with your rhythm and timing when you’re performing live. The in-ear monitor syncs up the live music and vocals for you.” 

Ronan got it right away. The size of a venue affecting sound was obvious and unavoidable. Unless you were lip-syncing, in-ear monitors were a must for live performances to keep from rushing or dragging the beat.  

But for One Day Kings, their past gigs had been small and amateur—no need for in-ears. A decent one could easily cost over a thousand bucks, and the fancier, more precise ones? Even pricier. Top stars had custom-made ones, molded to fit their ears perfectly, with personalized colors, shapes, and little signature marks.  

Plus, in-ears needed a soundboard with specialized audio gear to work. A place like the “Noon” bar didn’t have that kind of setup, so naturally, the band never bothered with pro equipment like this. 

“What’s up? Something wrong?”  

Julio hurried over, noticing the band huddled around the in-ear monitor. They weren’t wearing it yet, and he wondered if the gear was busted. 

Maxim quickly pulled himself together and flashed Julio a smile. “Nah, we’re just talking about the rehearsal plan.” He didn’t want to look unprofessional in front of Julio—kind of embarrassing. 

Ronan, though, saw it differently. If you don’t know something, ask. Pretending you get it and then screwing up on stage? That’s the real embarrassment. Besides, what kind of band One Day Kings was—Julio already knew. No point in hiding it. Being open and honest was the smarter move. 

So Ronan spoke up plainly. “We’re worried our lack of experience might mess up the performance.” He held up the in-ear monitor. “This is our first time using these for a show.” 

“Oh, then you’ll definitely need some time to get used to them,” Julio said with a warm grin. “A lot of singers actually hate in-ears. The sound goes straight to your eardrum, and hearing your own voice in real-time can throw you off. It might even mess up the band’s natural rhythm.” 

Julio’s easygoing smile came from Ronan’s honesty. That straightforward, upright vibe shining through Ronan’s clear, bright eyes made Julio feel at ease. He explained things with extra care, subtly looking out for the band without making it obvious.  

“Another big thing with in-ears is they block out crowd noise. If the audience is cheering too loud and drowns out the music, singers can’t hear a thing, and the performance falls apart. In-ears seal that off—super strong, too. You basically can’t hear anything from outside.” 

Ronan’s eyes widened. “Nothing at all?” Even Maxim, who’d been a little grumpy earlier, perked up, stretching his ears to catch every word. 

“Yep,” Julio nodded. “That’s why sometimes singers on stage look like they’re in their own world, totally cut off from the crowd…” 

“Because they really can’t hear them,” Ronan said, the realization hitting him. 

“Exactly!” Julio confirmed. “But the fun of a concert is interacting with the audience. Someone like Bruno, who loves hyping up the crowd, needs to feel those cheers and shouts to get going. So he might pull out one in-ear to catch the vibe.” 

Between songs, when singers chat with the crowd, you’ll often see them take off the in-ears. It’s because the gear gets in the way of connecting with the audience.  

“But if you take them out, it’s easy to lose the beat. It depends on the singer’s habits and how well they vibe with the live band. If the in-ear fails and you’re stuck on stage with no music in your ears? That’s a total disaster.” 

Julio chuckled lightly. “That’s why we rehearse—to avoid surprises like that.” 

What Julio didn’t mention was that rehearsals also help the band get used to the venue, the in-ears, the sound system, the space—everything. They figured One Day Kings had plenty of gig experience, like most indie bands, but a pro stage was a different beast. 

“Got it! Loud and clear!” Ronan grinned wide, thrilled to learn something new and now even more pumped for rehearsal. “Let’s get to work!” 

Maxim, standing off to the side, tried twice to stop Ronan from being so open, but Julio’s response wasn’t judgy at all. Cliff and Ollie were listening intently too, so Maxim let it go. He didn’t say anything more—just grabbed his in-ear and got ready to rehearse. 

Ronan popped the in-ear into his ear. It wasn’t custom-made, but it still filled his ear canal completely. Suddenly, it was like dunking his head into a swimming pool—everything shifted to an underwater world. There was a faint buzzing in his ears, but the background noise faded away, almost gone. It felt like being wrapped in an air helmet—strange, amazing, like… 

…his feet had left the ground, floating like a helium balloon drifting through space. 

(End of Chapter 131: A Small Test of Skill 

The first reaction after putting on the in-ear monitor is honestly hard to describe. It feels a bit like… floating in space, faintly picking up scattered, fragmented signals that I can’t quite make out. Then the weightless sensation throws off my limbs and balance, making everything feel kind of ridiculous. 

Of course, this is a pretty personal experience. It might just be because I’m so sensitive to sound that everything gets amplified a few times over, turning it into something exaggerated. 

Gulp, gulp. 

I can’t help but think back to my childhood, when I’d dunk my head in a basin of water to practice holding my breath. I could hear the bubbles moving above my ears, but I couldn’t tell if the sounds were coming from outside the water or from me blowing bubbles like a goldfish. 

The next second, a smooth, familiar drumbeat and chord progression bursts through the in-ear monitor, hitting my eardrums with no delay—BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM! It’s like thunder rolling in, shaking the whole world along with it. 

Buzz, buzz, buzz. 

My hearing blanks out for a moment. 

“Yee-yah! Yee-yah!” 

I instinctively shout something, not even sure what I’m yelling, and rip off the in-ear monitor to save my buzzing head before my eardrums burst. Turning to Oli, I holler, “Yee-yah, yee-yah!” 

Oli jumps, clearly startled too. He scratches at his head, yanks off his own in-ear monitor, and rubs his swollen, almost-exploding ears. His grimace is so over-the-top it’s both annoying and hilarious. My anger fizzles out, and when I glance over, I see Maxim and Cliff fumbling just as much. Finally, I can’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. 

The ringing in my ears eventually stops, and Oli’s voice—still shaky—finds its rhythm again. “God, I really thought my eardrums were going to shatter. What just happened?” 

“Oli-Lov!” 

Cliff roars like an angry lion, but then he notices the staff around us staring. He quickly glances around, reins in his temper, and grits out his “scolding” word by word. 

“You know! How much! That costs!” 

Pfft. 

I freeze for half a second, then lose it and laugh out loud. Cliff whips his head around to glare at me. I wave my hands to signal my innocence, but the grin in my eyes gives me away. Eventually, I just give up pretending and let the laughter take over. 

“Ronan…” Cliff sighs, exasperated. Then Maxim’s laughter joins in from the other side, and Cliff’s anger stalls completely. 

Oli shrinks back a little and silently mouths “Sorry” to Cliff. 

I step in to smooth things over. “Let’s get into rehearsal for real. Looks like we’ve got a lot to get used to and practice.” 

Cliff gives me a look that says, “I see through your little plan,” but I pretend not to notice. Turning toward the stage front, I call out to the sound engineer, “Could you adjust the in-ear volume?” 

The sound engineer, Diego-Auston, is tweaking the audio setup. He looks up just in time to catch me shouting at him from the stage. He raises both hands, gesturing for me to “use the mic.” 

In a venue this big, yelling back and forth with just your voice isn’t exactly practical—or smart. The staff use walkie-talkies to communicate, while we on stage can talk through the mics. Of course, in a pinch, raw shouting happens sometimes, but after screaming yourself hoarse, you still end up needing the walkie-talkie or mic to get the job done. 

But— 

“In-ear volume!” I project my voice with steady breath and power. It’s not loud, but it cuts through clearly, delivering the message. 

Diego pauses, looking at me on stage. A playful smirk tugs at his lips. He doesn’t gesture anymore or say anything extra—just gives me an “OK” sign, adjusts the in-ear volume, and speaks into his own mic. 

“How’s this?” 

I put the in-ear monitor back on and go back and forth with Diego a couple of times until we find the right level. “Ah, ahh,” I call into the mic, and my voice slams straight into my head. 

It feels so, so, so weird. Really! 

It’s nothing like I imagined. Normally, I can hear myself when I talk, and I’ve got a set idea of what my voice sounds like in my head. But this? It’s like that’s been flipped upside down. The sound hitting my eardrums is completely different—unfamiliar, like I don’t even recognize it. 

“Who’s this?” 

And the sound in the in-ear monitor doesn’t feel like it’s traveling any distance. It just smacks my eardrums directly—no echo, more like a live broadcast synced with my brain. I can feel the different resonances from my chest, nose, and head, like it’s breaking down how the human voice works. 

Words can’t really describe it. 

“Hold on, hold on.” 

I signal for a pause, but hearing that strange yet familiar voice again, I can’t help it—I snicker. “This feels so bizarre.” 

It’s not just me. The rest of the band feels it too. The way the sound travels to our ears changes the distance, and that throws off the rhythm and flow in subtle ways. We’ve got to readjust, or our performance is going to tank. 

“Ah. Ahh.” I refocus, trying to tune in. Because I’m so sensitive to sound, I need a moment to catch those tiny texture differences. I want to feel my voice before the band’s accompaniment kicks in—like singing underwater in a lake, finding the rhythm and pitch. 

“Ah. Ahh.” I’m still exploring, but just making sounds isn’t enough. So, I start singing off the cuff. 

“When I see your face, it’s flawless perfection, you’re so beautiful, just stay the way you are…” 

It’s Bruno Mars’ breakout hit, “Just the Way You Are,” still his most popular and well-known song to date. 

Unlike Bruno’s slightly husky, magnetic tone, my voice has a clear, bright quality—like golden sunlight resting lightly in your palm. A warm spring breeze brushes by, and a smile creeps up without you even noticing. Plus, the way I handle phrasing and breathing has its own flair. Even acapella, the rhythm hides in there, and the clash of syllables flows naturally. 

“When you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while, girl, you’re so stunning, just stay the way you are.” 

(End of Chapter)