Henry leaned back in his chair and patted his pleasantly round belly, wearing a satisfied expression.
"Wendy, thank you."
Wendy took another sip of milk and glanced at him over the rim of her cup.
"What are you thanking me for? I should be thanking you. I must have looked terrible last night, right?"
Henry smiled but didn't answer.
There was no point reminding her.
He could still remember the trouble she'd given him the night before. Wendy had been completely drunk, throwing tantrums one moment, complaining about random things the next, and talking nonstop while Henry struggled to get her back home.
Compared to that, seeing her calmly eating breakfast this morning almost made him wonder whether they had been dealing with the same person.
Wendy seemed to notice his expression and immediately changed the subject. She leaned back in her chair, a playful smile appearing on her face.
"So, Mr. Superstar, what surprises do you have installed for us in the next episode? I think I'm starting to become your fan."
Henry looked at her awkwardly.
He genuinely couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or actually praising him.
"I'm glad to hear that," he finally said with an embarrassed smile. "Well, my dear fan, I guess you'll just have to wait and find out later."
Wendy stretched lazily, raising both arms above her head before settling back into her chair.
"Okay, Mr. Superstar. I'll just have to wait and see. Hope you don't disappoint me."
She paused, then casually pointed toward the door.
"Now, get ready and go. Get to work early, earn some money, and pay back the rent you owe me as soon as possible."
Henry's expression immediately collapsed.
There it is.
He had almost forgotten who he was talking to.
Wendy stood up and yawned.
"I'm going to take another beauty nap."
Without waiting for his response, she wandered toward her bedroom.
Henry watched her disappear behind the door before shaking his head.
This woman really knew how to ruin a perfectly good mood.
After finishing his breakfast, Henry gathered the dishes from the table. He carried them toward the kitchen, then stopped.
He looked at the sink.
Then at the dishes.
Then back toward Wendy's bedroom.
I cooked.
That was enough.
There was no way he was going to cook breakfast and then wash all the dishes afterward.
He had standards.
With that decision firmly made, Henry left the dishes where they were and walked out of the apartment.
After checking the route to Silver Records on his phone, he headed to the bus stop and boarded the appropriate bus.
About forty minutes later, Henry arrived at the sprawling Silver Records headquarters.
The building immediately caught his attention.
It was a large, modern structure rising high above the surrounding buildings, its exterior covered in broad panels of glass that reflected the morning sunlight. The Silver Records logo was displayed prominently near the entrance, while several enormous promotional posters featuring the company's artists decorated the front facade.
People in suits, musicians carrying instrument cases, assistants rushing around with phones pressed to their ears, and employees wearing company badges constantly passed through the entrance.
It was obvious at a glance that this wasn't an ordinary office building.
This was one of the major centers of the entertainment industry.
Henry took out his phone and called Sarah.
"I'm here. Downstairs."
Sarah answered almost immediately.
"Wait a minute. I'm coming down now."
The call ended.
A short while later, Sarah appeared in the lobby.
When she saw Henry, she smiled.
"You're here really early."
"I didn't want to be late."
Sarah nodded approvingly.
"Good. Let's go upstairs first. I'll have the finance department arrange the payment, and afterward I'll show you where you'll be working."
Henry nodded and followed her into the building.
As they walked through the lobby, Sarah began explaining the layout of the company.
"The eighteenth and nineteenth floors belong to the songwriting department. You'll be working there from now on."
Henry glanced upward.
"So composers get two entire floors?"
Sarah smiled.
"Silver Records has quite a few songwriters under contract. Some are newcomers, while others have been in the industry for decades."
They entered an elevator.
After a brief pause, Sarah looked at Henry.
"But are you really sure about this?"
Henry turned toward her.
Sarah continued, "It would be quite a loss for you to give up your debut on Rookie of the Century, especially after you've already started building a fanbase."
Her tone wasn't forceful. It sounded more like genuine concern.
"Still," she added, "since I can't change your mind, I'll respect your decision. I think you have excellent potential, Henry. And with your ability to write your own songs, you're capable of building a very bright future here."
The elevator doors opened.
Sarah stepped out before adding, "Besides, if you ever change your mind, remember that we're still willing to discuss a stronger contract with you."
Henry shook his head with a faint smile.
"I don't think I'll be changing my decision anytime soon. But if that day comes, I'll remember your offer."
Sarah studied him for a moment but didn't try to persuade him further.
Instead, she continued leading him through the building.
When they reached the eighteenth floor, Henry's first impression was unexpectedly positive.
"This is our main office area," Sarah explained. "If you're working on-site, this is where you'll spend most of your time."
Henry looked around.
Unlike the stiff corporate offices he'd been accustomed to on Earth, the songwriting department had a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere.
Some employees were working on computers with headphones on, while others were discussing melodies and lyrics. A few people were gathered around a piano, and through an open doorway Henry could even see a small recreation area where several employees appeared to be playing games.
There was no oppressive silence.
Nobody seemed to be constantly watching the clock.
Sarah noticed Henry's expression and laughed.
"Songwriting requires inspiration. That's why our working hours are relatively flexible."
She gestured around the room.
"As long as you produce results, nobody will bother you about how you spend your time. You could play games, take a nap, walk around the building for an hour, or stare at the ceiling trying to find inspiration. If your work gets done, management generally doesn't care."
Henry's eyes brightened.
Now this is an office.
He had already expected the songwriting department to be more relaxed than a normal corporate workplace, but seeing it for himself was another matter entirely.
After getting used to the suffocating routine of his old office life on Earth, this kind of environment felt almost luxurious.
Henry looked at Sarah.
"How is the compensation structured?"
Sarah's expression became more professional.
"There are two main components. First, there's your base salary. As a newly contracted composer, you'll receive 10,000 per month."
Henry nodded.
"And the songs?"
"That's where the royalty structure comes in," Sarah explained. "The exact percentage depends on your contract, your rank within the company, and the commercial performance of your work. As a newcomer, your songwriting royalty is relatively modest because the revenue from a released song is divided among several rights holders."
She continued, "For example, if a song generates 100,000 in distributable songwriter revenue and your contractual share is ten percent, you would receive 10,000 from that revenue. That's separate from your monthly salary."
Henry frowned slightly.
"Only ten percent?"
Sarah sighed.
"I understand why that sounds low, but you have to remember that a commercially released song involves more than just the composer. Depending on the project, there may be the singer's share, producer's share, publisher or label participation, performance and mechanical royalties, distribution costs, and other contractual obligations."
Henry nodded slowly.
That made more sense.
Sarah continued, "However, the percentage isn't fixed forever. As your reputation and commercial track record grow, your negotiating position improves. Senior composers receive considerably better terms."
"And if I become a Song King?"
Sarah smiled.
"Then your situation changes completely."
Henry's interest immediately sharpened.
"How do I become one?"
"You're trying to run before you've even learned to walk."
Sarah laughed softly.
"To become a Song King, you first need to establish yourself as a senior composer. At Silver Records, one of the requirements for senior status is having at least five songs reach the Billboard Top 100 monthly chart."
Henry nodded.
"And after that?"
"To be recognized as a Song King, you need at least three songs that the public considers classics. There's no internal committee that can simply declare you one. Ultimately, it's public recognition that determines whether your songs have reached that level."
Henry's eyes flickered with interest.
Three classics.
That didn't sound impossible.
It certainly wasn't going to be easy, but compared to everything else he'd already experienced, Henry wasn't intimidated.
Sarah smiled.
"Any other questions?"
Henry thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"No."
"Then let's get your contract finalized."
Sarah led him to the Human Resources Department, where the necessary paperwork was prepared. Henry carefully reviewed the documents before signing them, officially becoming a composer under Silver Records.
Afterward, Sarah took him back to the eighteenth floor.
When they entered the songwriting department, Sarah clapped her hands.
"Everyone, could I have your attention for a moment?"
The conversations gradually died down.
People stopped typing.
Several employees removed their headphones, while others turned away from their computers. A few who had been playing games in the recreation area wandered closer, curious about what was happening.
Sarah gestured toward Henry.
"I'd like to introduce a new colleague. This is Henry. He'll be joining our songwriting department from today onward. Please give him a warm welcome."
For a brief moment, everyone stared at Henry.
Then applause erupted around the office.
"Welcome!"
"Welcome to Silver Records!"
"Nice to meet you!"
Henry smiled and gave a small nod.
Sarah pointed toward a workstation near the window.
"Your desk is over there. If you need anything, just contact me."
She gave him an encouraging smile before turning to leave.
Henry walked over to his new workstation.
The desk was spacious, with a comfortable chair, a large monitor, and enough room for his notebook and whatever equipment he might eventually need. More importantly, the workstation was positioned beside a large window overlooking the city, allowing plenty of natural light into the space.
Henry sat down and slowly looked around.
For a moment, he couldn't help but smile.
He was back in an office.
Technically, he had returned to the same kind of environment he'd spent years trying to escape.
But this place felt completely different.
There was no supervisor hovering over his shoulder.
No endless stream of meaningless meetings.
No suffocating cubicle walls.
No colleague constantly reminding him about deadlines while he counted the minutes until he could finally go home.
Here, he could actually write music.
Maybe being a composer isn't so bad.
Henry had barely settled into his chair when he overheard two women talking a few desks away.
"Hey, did you hear? The rankings for Rookie of the Century are out."
"The first-place contestant apparently withdrew from the competition. That's unbelievable!"
"I saw the news too. That song, Never Gonna Give You Up, is really good. I've listened to it several times already."
"I wonder who wrote that song."
The other woman nodded.
"And I heard some fans are planning to boycott the show because of what happened."
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it. Never Gonna Give You Up was clearly one of the strongest songs in the competition. That guy was one of the favorites to win the whole thing, and now he's suddenly withdrawn."
She lowered her voice.
"There has to be something fishy going on."
The two women continued chatting and laughing until one of them happened to glance toward Henry.
Their eyes met.
Henry gave them a polite smile.
The woman stared at him for another second.
She blinked.
Then her eyebrows slowly rose.
"Hey... why do you look so familiar?"