701-705

Chapter 701: A Wave of Buzz

Perhaps, the complaints about how the Golden Globes divide up the awards will never cease.

At the same time, no one can deny the ongoing influence of the Golden Globes, still considered top-tier. Whether it’s "the more famous, the more hated" or "the more hated, the more famous," it’s hard to tell.

A seemingly insignificant nomination for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy at the Golden Globes indirectly highlights Anson’s meteoric rise in Hollywood.

This marks his second appearance on the Academy's radar, following his Emmy Award win for Best Guest Actor, once again in the comedy category. Even Anson himself probably never expected it—

Turns out, he's a comedy actor.

Not only Edgar but also friends bombarded him with congratulatory texts, even more than when "Spider-Man" was breaking box office records last summer, making Anson’s mood soar as well.

Of course, because of the Best Director nomination controversy, conspiracy theories surfaced here too. How could a 20-year-old idol "pretty boy" get a nomination? Are they saying it wasn’t bought?

However, the controversy vanished almost as quickly as it appeared—

Think about what you’re even saying. The Golden Globes’ Musical or Comedy nominations are notoriously watered down. Every year there are so few notable comedy or musical films during awards season that filler nominations are common.

Look at this year’s list: Hugh Grant’s nomination—really? A comedy-drama adaptation in this category is a joke! Richard Gere in Chicago barely had a supporting role! And Adam Sandler? If you're gonna criticize Anson, maybe look at Adam first!

The critics couldn’t help but laugh at themselves as they ranted.

Plus!

If you want to talk about shady practices, check out the Best Supporting Actor nominations in the Golden Globes' TV section this year—

By the way, one proof of the Golden Globes’ power lies in the fact that it's the biggest combined film and television award in North America.

This year, the Best Supporting Actor category in the TV section had nine nominees—33% more bloated than the Best Director category in the film section, which is ridiculous and absurd, causing anger to turn into laughter.

Despite the Hollywood Foreign Press Association's defense that they don’t subdivide supporting roles, meaning the candidates include actors from drama, comedy, miniseries, and TV movies, making the number of nominees hard to control...

But.

Nine?

That’s still over the top.

For comparison, the Best Supporting Actress category in TV had only five slots.

So, what's the deal? There are too many great male supporting actors to count but barely any good female ones? Is that what they’re saying?

If you really want to complain, Anson’s nomination isn’t even worth mentioning.

Without comparison, there’s no harm. Once you compare, Anson’s captivating debut and nuanced performance in Catch Me If You Can seem practically “crushing” compared to the others. It suddenly doesn’t seem impossible for him to actually win the award.

At least Anson showed the audience more potential.

Otherwise, could Anson take it a step further and win his first Golden Globe for Best Actor?

The buzz, unexpectedly, shifted from criticizing Anson to focusing on his performance in Catch Me If You Can. No one saw that coming.

Though there’s always controversy and the authority of the Golden Globes is constantly questioned, it’s undeniable that its influence remains at the pinnacle. In terms of ratings alone, it ranks just below the Oscars, on par with the Grammys, and far ahead of the Emmys and Tonys.

Thus—

The Golden Globes earned Catch Me If You Can another wave of buzz.

Then, things unfolded naturally—

Everything, falling into place.

First, the flash mob events took everyone by surprise, followed by TMZ leading the fashion trend, and Vogue magazine further stoking the buzz. Finally, the Golden Globe nomination ignited a wave of hype that carried on from Christmas straight into the New Year.

2003 had arrived.

Millions of eyes were all on Anson.

More precisely, on the final stop of the Catch Me If You Can flash mob events:

New York.

Countless speculations surrounded New York, not only because it’s the largest city on the East Coast but also because the event had started in Los Angeles and would close the loop in New York—undoubtedly the perfect ending.

The real question was, when and how would Anson appear? Where would he bring this event to a close with yet another surprise?

The anticipation was rising.

The excitement had reached an unprecedented level, the grandest event since the turn of the millennium.

And it would peak on this day—

Friday, January 3rd.

From all indications, Anson’s path led north after Miami, steadily approaching New York. Today was likely the event’s conclusion, stirring up a frenzy in the city.

Since the afternoon, cinemas across the city had seen a surge of moviegoers, turning into a large-scale performance art piece—

Comparable to the real-life game “Find Waldo.”

At this point, the movie was no longer the focus.

Neither Catch Me If You Can, nor the flash mob event, nor even Anson himself was the main point. The event had become a trend, a way for young people to stay relevant, a cultural moment that everyone wanted to be part of, even if they had no interest in the movie or Anson.

So.

One by one, people blindly joined the trend, becoming part of this historical wave.

The cinemas had become the most fashionable, exciting places to be during the New Year, with young people giving it a new meaning. It was truly an unexpected phenomenon.

In a flash, memories of five years ago returned, vividly. The New Year’s Eve of 1997, when Titanic was passed around word-of-mouth, fueled by end-of-the-world fears, becoming the movie everyone had to see.

This time, Catch Me If You Can followed a slightly different path, but the emotional resonance was the same, especially among the younger generation.

Perhaps the only difference was that Titanic became a global phenomenon, while Catch Me If You Can rode the wave created by Anson’s presence.

After the New Year’s peak, the market had been expected to quiet down, yet it was experiencing an unbelievable second wind, reaching new heights.

Industry professionals had vaguely anticipated this last week, but there were still doubts, as nothing like this had ever happened before.

Until now—

It exceeded all expectations!

Not only did it shatter predictions, but it swept through the market like wildfire, making even the harsh winter feel warm with excitement.

So, where was Anson?

The core figure of all this hype, the person everyone was chasing—where was Anson Wood now? Had he arrived in New York? Why hadn’t the paparazzi caught his whereabouts yet?

Wait, or had Anson already silenced the paparazzi?

*Chapter 702: Whereabouts Unknown*

"...Anson should have arrived in New York by now, right?"

Karen Fox mumbled to herself, her gaze distant.

Meanwhile, Blair Miller was focused, not paying any attention. She was busy sifting through TMZ and various online forums—piecing together information, searching for clues, and trying to pinpoint Anson's location.

Both of them were lost in their own tasks, neither bothering the other.

Karen, immersed in her thoughts, was conflicted.

On one hand, she was excited, hardly able to believe that Anson had managed to pull off such a surprising feat. His constant waves of excitement had kept everyone on edge, with surprise after surprise building to a final climax. It was turning into a massive pop culture event.

She imagined herself in a movie theater watching Catch Me If You Can, only for Anson to unexpectedly appear right after the film ended.

Ah, ah, ah!

Even just imagining it made every cell in her body scream with excitement.

Since the last time she saw Anson up close during a Tonight Show taping, it had been almost half a year without seeing him face to face. If he showed up like that, she might just burst into tears on the spot.

But there was also the dilemma—this event was all about secrecy. Everything was meant to be kept under wraps, no leaks allowed. The surprise had to remain a surprise.

Some people might wonder, "How has no one figured out where Anson is? Where are all the paparazzi?"

The truth is, TMZ had stayed invisible throughout the whole thing. It was obvious they had made some sort of deal with DreamWorks, agreeing not to spoil the event.

Besides, the value of breaking this kind of surprise event is limited. Sure, fans might flood a location if it were leaked, but then what? There wasn’t much to gain for the paparazzi, so it was better to stay in good graces.

At the same time, DreamWorks had meticulously planned everything. They had helicopters, private jets, and multiple vehicles heading in different directions, keeping Anson's movements airtight and ensuring the surprise lasted till the very end.

In an interview with Entertainment Weekly, Anson made it clear that the point of this event wasn’t for promotion—he wasn’t doing magazine interviews or allowing TV crews to follow him. This was for the fans.

Of course, he admitted it was still a promotional event, but this one was different. He wanted the audience to be the main characters.

So, if the surprise got leaked and fans rushed to the theaters, it would defeat the whole purpose. It would turn into just another fan meet-and-greet, which was never the original intention.

"I like seeing those genuine reactions," Anson said. "The real joy, the real surprise, even the genuine indifference."

"I'm serious. After I show up, some people just leave, not caring at all. I love their reactions; they genuinely don’t care who I am. Haha."

"Of course, this time everyone has been pretty nice. No one outright told me, 'I don't like you.' I guess the Christmas spirit saved me," he added with a laugh.

Karen loved this side of Anson. In fact, she adored him even more—the way he carried himself, his ideas, his creativity, his talent. She was completely captivated.

She agreed 100% with his approach. A surprise needs to remain a surprise, or it loses its charm.

But the downside was, she had no idea where Anson would be next—and might miss him altogether.

Karen felt both envious and jealous of those lucky enough to be surprised.

Her stomach churned.

What should she do?

Caught in this conflict, Karen sat in silence, torn between her emotions.

"Ah!" Blair suddenly gasped.

Karen jumped.

Blair covered her mouth, "Anson's in Boston."

"What? That’s impossible!" Karen exclaimed.

Blair turned her laptop around. On the screen was a post from Yahoo’s community page:

"Anson Wood just arrived in Cambridge."

This Cambridge wasn’t the famous town near London, but the one next to Boston where Harvard and MIT are located.

Below the headline was a blurry photo of Anson’s profile.

Karen's mind raced. "This can’t be real. You can’t even see it clearly. It’s already 6 PM. If Anson’s in Boston—"

Blair had a different perspective. "Maybe all of this is just in our heads. Don’t forget, Anson never gave away any details."

"No promise of coming to New York today. No hint that the surprise tour would end after crossing North America. For all we know, he could head further north to Montreal or Toronto. Maybe even fly across the Atlantic to London or Paris."

"It’s all just our speculation."

Karen was stunned. "But Anson just left Philadelphia. Shouldn't his next stop be New York?"

Blair shrugged. "That’s what we assumed. We all thought, 'Hey, it's New York! No way Anson would skip it!' But remember, we didn’t expect him to go to Boise either. Skipping New York isn’t that far-fetched."

"Or maybe he’ll finish his Canada and Europe tour, then circle back to New York at the end."

"My point is, Anson didn’t make any promises."

"We’ve all been thinking he’d show up in New York tonight, but what if he stops in Boston first and then shows up tomorrow to catch us off guard?"

Karen's eyes widened. "If it’s tomorrow, no one would see it coming! He’d surprise us all over again."

Blair nodded slightly. "Surprise!"

The more Karen thought about it, the more likely it seemed. "That’s so Anson. He always keeps us guessing. This time is no different."

Thump. Thump.

Her heart raced. An indescribable excitement bubbled up inside her.

Karen and Blair exchanged glances. This was exactly why they loved Anson, wasn’t it?

But.

After the brief thrill, disappointment set in again.

Karen sighed. "So, no Anson tonight?"

Blair continued studying the photo. "Probably not. Want to head out for a walk? If I stay here much longer, I might go crazy."

Karen hesitated briefly but then nodded.

Before long, the news was confirmed—

Anson was indeed in Boston, pulling off yet another surprise flash event.

The Boston crowd was completely shocked. They, too, had been certain that New York was next. After all, Anson had skipped San Diego in Southern California, so skipping Boston and ending in New York made perfect sense.

Naturally, the Boston fans were caught completely off guard—stunned into silence.

Literally.

The surprise was so overwhelming that even Anson fumbled a bit, which sparked a wave of good-natured laughter online.

While Boston fans basked in their shock,

New Yorkers were plunged into disbelief and despair—

Wait, Boston? After Philly, he went to Boston? What about New York? He skipped New York? How could that be?

That’s New York! New York!

*Chapter 703: Outdoor Screening*

Night had fallen, and the city lights twinkled like stars, gradually painting the sky above the towering skyscrapers a peacock blue, radiant and mesmerizing. It was one of those moments where, upon a casual glance upward, the beauty of the scene made the bustling pace of New York City seem to slow, even if just for a moment.

"Ah, the weather is perfect tonight. A rare treat."

Blair felt her spirits lift as she stepped out of her home, pushing aside the disappointment and irritation that had been weighing her down. She forced herself to focus on something else.

New York winters were typically dreary, especially in Manhattan, where the towering buildings obscured much of the sky. Stars were a rare sight, and even seeing the sky in its true colors was often difficult due to the ever-present haze.

But tonight, the moon was bright, and only a few scattered clouds dotted the sky. It was a rare, clear night.

Blair found herself smiling.

She glanced over at Karen, who still walked with her head down, lost in her thoughts. A mischievous idea popped into Blair’s mind.

"Anson!"

Karen's head snapped up immediately, looking around like a startled meerkat. But as the people around her continued on, unfazed, she quickly realized she'd been fooled.

"Claire, that's not funny!" Karen scowled, stomping her foot in frustration.

Claire burst into laughter. "Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t care about Anson? You should see yourself now!"

Karen: ...

Claire laughed even harder and then wrapped Karen in a tight hug. "Alright, alright, no more jokes. We need to stay calm. If we end up at the flash mob, great! But if we don’t, we should still cheer for Anson, right?"

"For now, let's not think about it too much. We need to distract ourselves."

"What’s that over there?"

Karen rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I really don’t care."

Claire, unbothered, grinned. "There’s a crowd gathering. Maybe they’re waiting for Anson!"

Another joke. Karen couldn't help but smile despite herself. "Claire!"

But Claire had already started jogging towards the gathering, turning back to wave at her friend. "Come on, Karen! Hurry!"

Karen sighed, muttering, "This is Washington Square—of course, there’s a crowd," but she followed anyway.

Washington Square Park, located in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, was famous for its arch, reminiscent of the Arc de Triomphe, and its central fountain—a popular spot for graduation photos.

New York University (NYU) was right there, too.

Unlike other universities, NYU didn’t have a clearly defined campus. Its buildings were scattered throughout Manhattan, with a large portion surrounding Washington Square. As a result, the park was always lively, filled with students.

There were street performers, painters sketching, couples strolling—it was a hub of activity year-round.

During graduation season, NYU would even rent out the square for photo shoots. The park was an inseparable part of university life.

It was also a hot spot for various events.

Street concerts, political rallies, TV interviews—just a few days ago, the park had been packed with New Year’s Eve partygoers.

So, Washington Square was always buzzing.

Tonight was no different.

But as Claire and Karen approached, they noticed something unusual.

In the garden area on the west side of the park, a small stage had been set up. It wasn’t very high, only about a foot off the ground. But the real centerpiece was the massive projection screen behind it.

About two to three hundred people were scattered around the square, chatting and laughing in small groups, their excitement palpable.

Another party?

"Excuse me, is there a special event happening tonight?" Blair asked a passerby with a friendly smile.

The person grinned back. "Outdoor screening. NYU hosts this event every month, showing old films. It’s free, so feel free to join if you're interested."

So that’s what it was.

After thanking the person, Blair turned to Karen. The excitement that had briefly lit up her face quickly faded. Blair knew exactly what her friend was thinking—

Maybe... Anson?

For a brief moment, Blair had the same thought. But this was just a regular NYU event. There was no way Anson would be here. She quickly pulled herself back to reality, reminding herself that Anson was in Boston, meeting with fans.

Shaking her head, Blair refocused and looked at the now somber Karen.

"So, what do you think? Should we stay and watch the movie or head to the theater to support Catch Me If You Can?"

Karen hesitated. She wasn’t sure she could sit through a movie without her mind wandering to Anson, potentially driving herself crazy. Finally, she made up her mind.

"What movie are they showing tonight?"

Blair handed her a flyer stamped with the NYU crest.

"A Superman marathon."

In 1978, the very first superhero movie, Superman, had hit the screens, with Christopher Reeve’s portrayal becoming iconic. Over the years, Reeve reprised the role in three sequels, marking his entire career. Unfortunately, the third and fourth films were poorly received, leading Warner Bros. to shelve the franchise indefinitely.

Karen smiled. "Are you sure? Won’t people just laugh?"

Blair chuckled. "I’m not sure, but we could give it a shot."

And sure enough—

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

By today’s standards, the special effects of the 1978 movie were laughably outdated. You could even see the wires used to make Superman fly.

Whether it was a shadow or a clearly visible wire, the technical flaws had the audience in stitches, including Blair and Karen, who couldn’t stop laughing.

Yet—

"Wow, a good movie is still a good movie," Karen said, surprised. "I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much."

Blair nodded, still smiling. "Even though you can clearly see the wires, the story is solid. I’m enjoying it too."

"So, should we head out or stick around for the second one?"

There was a short break between each of the four films.

Karen glanced around at the students lounging on blankets, snacking on chips and sipping beer. The atmosphere was relaxed, casual, and pleasant.

"I want to watch another one," Karen said, seeking Blair’s approval.

Blair shrugged. "I was thinking of leaving, but this seems like a nice way to spend a Friday night."

Suddenly, a small commotion stirred in the front. Blair and Karen looked over just as a student wearing a New York Yankees cap stepped up.

"Sorry, everyone! We’re having some technical difficulties with the projector. Please give us five minutes. Thanks for your patience."

**Chapter 704: Mechanical Malfunction**

 "Apologies, the projector has encountered a slight malfunction. Please give us five minutes. Thank you for your understanding."

 The organizer explained the situation before turning and heading back behind the screen. 

No one at the scene seemed surprised—it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. 

Karen showed some concern. 

 "These old movies are all on film reels, right? If the copy is damaged, we might not be able to watch it. I hope the projector isn't seriously broken."

 "Ha, Blair, do you feel like you've traveled back in time? It's like we're in the seventies. People used to experience this all the time in theaters, didn’t they?"

 As they spoke, Karen's mood lightened, momentarily forgetting the frustrations of the night and instead embracing the atmosphere, enjoying the Friday evening. 

But something felt off.

 Blair froze, her mind going blank for a moment.

 The students were particularly lively, with applause and whistles filling the air. Amid the commotion, a student turned and disappeared behind the large screen.

 The noise grew closer, and Karen nudged her friend with her shoulder, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.

 Karen: ...

 Her ears rang with the echoing sounds.

 Without thinking too much, Karen asked, "If the film reel can't be played, what do you think they'll do?"

 Finally, someone reacted and raised their voice to ask a question.

 Perhaps they were just as handsome, or maybe they still had that youthful glow, clearly selected from the finest college students, but they definitely weren’t Anson.

 There was no way she was mistaken.

 "Haha, hahahaha!" Karen burst into inexplicable laughter.

 And then— 

Once. Then again.

 "Where’s the organizer…"

 The first person spoke.

 Then—

 "Karen, it’s all your fault. I thought that student looked like Anson."

 "Blair?"

 She hesitated.

 Blair took a deep breath, pulling her scattered thoughts back down to earth.

 Karen paused, following Blair's lead and sighing, "Oh, if Anson showed up here, that would be amazing."

 Blair gave her a resigned look, nudging Karen with her elbow, signaling that the movie was starting.

 Blair exhaled a long breath, returning to normal. "Maybe they’ll skip straight to the third one? Didn’t they say there’d be a Superman marathon tonight?"

 Wait a minute. NYPD? Or was it the FBI?

 "Karen…"

 Blair's delayed realization hit her as she noticed that all three figures in front of the screen were wearing pilot uniforms.

 Karen covered her mouth and whispered, "I just imagined Anson showing up suddenly, and I think the audience would freeze in shock. It’d be hilarious."

 But why?

 Blair quickly apologized, shooting Karen a look to stop her.

 Wait, could it be?

 "My name is Frank William Abagnale."

 **Catch Me If You Can** was playing in theaters, but why was NYU screening it at Washington Square? Was this even legal? Did the audience need to be questioned by the police?

 When Karen glanced over, Blair waved it off, "No, no, it’s nothing," deciding it was best not to mention her wild thoughts to Karen. If Karen got her hopes up again only to be let down, the night would be truly ruined. Blair didn’t want that for her, especially not on a Friday.

 Karen blinked, "Haha, why are you blaming me for your crazy thoughts?"

 **Catch Me If You Can**.

 "Claire?"

 On screen, it was the guessing game scene with three pilots, and now, in front of the screen, three people stood blocking the same characters in the film, breaking the fourth wall, as if the characters had stepped into real life.

Behind the big screen, there was no response, as if they were completely unaware of their mistake.

The spotlight flickered on, and the screams and cheers soared to the sky, but in the next second, the three figures in front of them were—

This film came out in 1980, over 20 years ago. No one knew how well the film copy had been preserved, but thanks to the earlier warning, Blair was already mentally prepared for a disastrous opening. Surprisingly, the picture was crystal clear.

 The rustling noises continued.

 However, Karen got no response.

 On the big screen, the movie had just started. It seemed like it wasn’t **Superman II** but—

 Hiss.

 A little slow to react, Blair turned to look, eyes wide with disbelief, unable to say a word, tugging at Karen.

 Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

 Why did **Superman II** turn into **Catch Me If You Can**?

 Was this a screening error or what?

 "Blair…"

 She had just teased Karen for going crazy, but it looked like she was just as bad.

 "My name is Frank William Abagnale."

 Blair turned to Karen, feeling her breath quicken, her throat dry. "Karen, this is…"

 Blair stared at the figure, or rather, the silhouette. The lighting was too dim to make out any features, just a vague outline, but Blair couldn’t tear her eyes away.

 But before they could continue, three figures darted out from behind the screen, and the audience thought they were the organizers, only to see them standing tall in front of the screen—

 They weren’t Anson.

 Buzz.

 Blair nodded, "Yeah, right? I feel like I’m losing it." She rubbed her face, trying to snap herself out of it, letting out a groan. "God, I really miss Anson. I’m seeing things now."

 Wait!

 Blair: ... 

The whole scene was in shock.

 Wait… 

Despite the brief delay, **Superman II** eventually started playing.

 The movie had begun.

 Finally snapping out of it, Blair turned to Karen, her eyes filled with confusion and surprise, shaking her head with a helpless smile, dismissing her absurd thoughts.

 The crowd was dead silent.

 Claire seemed a little lost in thought, only now snapping back at the sound of Karen’s voice, startled. "Oh, it’s nothing, I just spaced out."

 Around them, murmurs of confusion and surprise were spreading, clearly showing Blair wasn’t the only one who noticed something odd. But no one could find an answer, leaving Washington Square buzzing with unease.

 That figure wearing a Yankees baseball cap appeared again.

 A pause.

 "Thank you for your patience. The issue has been resolved, and the screening will resume shortly. However, due to the film’s age, the opening may show some wear. We appreciate your understanding and hope you enjoy the show."

 Blair’s mind went blank, thoughts flooding in but failing to form, leaving her standing there, stunned.

 Maybe others were still confused, but Blair and Karen had watched the film four times already and were planning a fifth. They knew every detail, so how could they be mistaken?

 The retro, quirky, and stylish visuals pulled the audience back to the 1960s, even further back than the Superman era.

 Thoughts churned, but none of them led to any clear conclusion. Blair’s mind was blank.

 Others began to stir.

 Luckily, nothing worse happened.

 In the midst of the stunned crowd, a few people stood up in protest—more than one.

 The picture froze.

 "They played the wrong film, didn’t they?"

 Three people, one after another.

 Finally, they could see clearly—none of them were Anson.

 So, what was this? Some kind of prank?

*Chapter 705: Breaking the Screen*

"My name is Frank William Abagnale Jr."

Who would've thought that such a simple line could captivate so many people? But once the lights came on and the faces on stage became clear, it was obvious that this guy, though handsome, wasn't Anson.

The screams and cheers that had just erupted abruptly stopped. Everyone stood there, stunned and shocked, frozen in confusion, unable to react.

So, what kind of performance art was this?

Wait!

Could this be a prank from NYU? Did they think imitating Anson's pop-up event to mess with the crowd's emotions was some sort of fun joke? Were they treating the audience like fools?

Amidst the confusion and shock, a wave of anger surged.

One by one, a few audience members angrily stood up.

But before they could protest, another figure appeared behind the large screen. This person didn't move to the front but stood off to the side of the stage—

Blair noticed right away.

Even though there were no lights, and it was just a blurry silhouette, something about that tall, slender figure caught her attention and pulled her gaze in, locking onto it with a sharp focus.

Her heart stopped.

That shadow picked up a microphone, and a deep voice came through.

"My name is Frank William Abagnale Jr."

Another one?

"Oh, sorry, my mistake. Actually, my name is Anson Wood."

Click.

The spotlight shifted to the left, illuminating the figure standing on the side of the stage—

The entire world fell silent, completely still, without a sound.

Vroom.

The sound of cars passing on the main road behind them only highlighted how quiet Washington Square had become. There were no protests, no complaints, no discussions, and no confusion. It was as if someone had hit the pause button.

Thousands of eyes were fixed on that single figure.

Wearing a simple NYU hoodie over a white T-shirt, along with a leather baseball jacket, he stood casually, exuding a youthful energy. It was as if he had just walked out of the gentle spring breeze, making even the chilly late-night Manhattan air seem warmer.

So close, yet so far, like the North Star.

Blair felt like a fool. Caught off guard, tears suddenly streamed down her face, and the world blurred into a halo of light through her burning tears.

Thump. Thump.

The sound of her heartbeat echoed, lingering in the space around her.

Joy? Happiness? Excitement?

No, it was none of these. It was a pure, overwhelming emotion, powerful enough to ignite her soul, coursing through her like electricity from her toes to her heart.

"Ah!"

Blair was the first to scream, standing up without thinking, not caring if anyone thought she was crazy.

"Ahhh!"

As she screamed, she began to laugh, her smile breaking through her tears like a triumphant bloom; as she shouted, her entire being seemed to burst into flames.

So this was what surprise felt like.

In the next moment—

Karen finally reacted, her eyes wide with disbelief, hurriedly standing up and grabbing Blair's arm in confusion.

"Blair."

"Blair..."

"I think I just saw Anson."

Blair turned, her eyes brimming with tears, gripping her friend's hands tightly and shouting excitedly, "Anson! Anson! That’s Anson!"

Karen's eyes widened, as if she'd just been shocked.

Then, that familiar voice came through.

"Surprise, New York!"

Ah.

Ahhh!

Karen finally snapped out of it, watching Blair scream madly. Blair had lost all sense, jumping and yelling wildly.

Ahhh!

Ahhh!

The heat rose steadily.

The crowd in Washington Square, still reeling from the shock, began to realize what was happening. One by one, they exchanged incredulous looks, full of disbelief. But as they called out to each other, the truth slowly dawned on them, and before they could fully process it, they were swept up in the storm.

Ahhh.

Ahhh!

Chaos. Complete chaos, with an explosion of energy so powerful it swept through the entire square. Even pedestrians and residents nearby turned to look, and NYU students poured out in droves.

The night was on fire.

Even Anson, standing on stage, was startled. His eyes widened in surprise at the scene in front of him. Despite two weeks of these surprise events, the energy of this wave still left him stunned.

Rushing from Boston to New York, with helicopters, private jets, and cars in a dizzying whirlwind of transport, Anson had made it here in just about an hour, but he still felt like he was floating, overwhelmed by the chaos.

And then—

A tidal wave of heat came crashing toward him.

Like a mirage.

...

"Anson's at Washington Square."

Nicholas Flynn: "What?"

The New York Times reporter nearly choked on the burger in his mouth. He had to take a huge gulp of soda to force it down, almost dying from the shock. But before the voice on the phone could explain further, the noise in the restaurant confirmed it.

"Anson's downtown."

"What? When? How did he get here?"

"It’s only a two-hour drive from Philly..."

"Anson wasn’t in Philly, he was in Boston."

"What? Boston? When did that happen?"

"Idiot, he's already in New York now."

Amid the commotion, the TV in the restaurant switched to Fox News.

"Breaking news: Anson Wood has made a surprise appearance at Washington Square, marking the final stop of his 'Catch Me If You Can' pop-up tour."

On the screen, a Fox helicopter was hovering over the scene—

No reporters.

Anyone experienced could tell that Fox had been caught off guard, too. They didn’t have time to send reporters, so they just sent the helicopter first to capture whatever footage they could. Journalists were probably on their way to the square now.

From the helicopter’s view, you could see Washington Square below, buzzing with activity. A massive crowd surged toward a single point, looking like ants swarming in from all directions.

At the same time, the area around Washington Square had been cordoned off, with orderly lines forming at the entrance near the arch. The queue was quickly growing, winding further and further back.

At the center of it all, a spotlight focused on the stage. The giant screen had gone dark, and all eyes were on the single figure standing in the middle of it all.

In the loud drone of the helicopter’s blades, faint chants echoed through the air like waves.

"Anson."

"Anson."

"Anson."

The crowd chanted in unison, loud and fervent, spreading like a mushroom cloud across the square.

It was truly a spectacle.

Despite two weeks of this pop-up tour and plenty of incredible moments, nothing compared to what was happening now.

This—this was truly epic.

Anson had chosen Washington Square as his final stop.

Suddenly, Nicholas jumped to his feet, leaving his burger and soda behind as he rushed out the door.

Then, just as quickly, he ran back.

Forget the burger and soda, but he definitely needed his phone.