So, what exactly does it mean to have "a lot of people"?
Three hundred? Five hundred?
Three thousand? Five thousand?
Honestly, without a stadium or some defined area to frame it, it's tough to judge with the naked eye. When you're looking out at a flat horizon, your line of sight and field of vision can actually get in the way of seeing the big picture. Once the number of people crosses a certain threshold, the sheer vastness of a sea of humanity makes the numbers lose all meaning.
Three thousand or thirty thousand—when you're just one person standing in the middle of it, the difference doesn't feel as huge as you'd imagine.
Right now, there were at least two thousand people in front of him. But whether the actual number was higher or lower, Ronan couldn't tell for sure.
In his past life, over the course of his long existence, the most people he'd ever seen with his own eyes at once was about six hundred students filing onto the school field for morning exercises during elementary school. Even then, that was a distant memory, blurry and faded, and it didn't do much to help him gauge things now.
"Maybe I should come up with a math model," Ronan mused. "Divide the crowd into sections, estimate the number of people in each one, and then calculate the total."
Weird ideas like that popped into his head, and letting his mind wander helped settle the mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside him.
By then, Cliff had already driven them smoothly into the parking lot out back.
The parking lot was packed with people too. Sure, it wasn't anywhere near the scale of the crowd lined up at the main entrance, but with a hundred or two hundred folks milling around, the smaller space made it feel just as crowded, filling every corner of his vision.
They seemed to be waiting for their favorite bands. Every time a car pulled up, the crowd surged forward like a wave, eager to get a look. Once they saw who it was, some followed, some stepped back—a strange, fascinating dance that opened Ronan's eyes all over again.
Clearly, King for a Day wasn't the band they were waiting for. The crowd parted like the tide going out, leaving the road clear again. Still, they gave a polite cheer or two, a little shout of encouragement for the band.
It felt a bit underwhelming.
Cliff's face fell, a sheepish look crossing his features as he muttered, "Not a single one stayed…" His words carried a hint of disappointment and frustration.
But Ollie's voice—bursting with excitement—quickly broke the quiet in the van. "Cheers! Whoa! Actual cheers! They're even waiting for bands at the back door of the bar. That's insane! Right, guys? Isn't it? This whole scene is just unreal."
Seeing Ollie practically vibrating with enthusiasm, everyone—including Cliff—cracked a smile.
Ronan got where Ollie was coming from. The cheers weren't exactly wild, and they definitely weren't meant for them—more like a pity clap, if anything. But the fact that these fans were here at all proved something big, something important:
Even indie bands, underground bands, could have supporters. These passionate music lovers weren't shy about showing their enthusiasm. So, didn't that mean King for a Day could have their own fans cheering for them someday too?
Maybe tonight's Full Moon Party was their shot.
That shared sense of possibility was exactly why Ollie was so pumped. Cliff caught Maxim's and Ronan's eyes in the rearview mirror, and they all felt it—the subtle shift in the air, a tangle of nerves and excitement swirling together.
After parking the van without a hitch, the band hopped out and headed to the back door. They knocked, waited a moment, and the door cracked open about a third of the way. "Band name and booking time?"
"King for a Day, 12:15. But we just got a call asking us to show up an hour early."
Cliff stepped up as the spokesperson.
Truth be told, Cliff was a solid captain. He was great at handling the little details and random tasks, totally in his element. Managing the band, dealing with outsiders—all that stuff was right up his alley. When they'd picked him as leader, it was a unanimous decision, even backed by Maxim, the band's very first captain back in the early days.
The staffer at the door checked his schedule, then gave a slight nod. "Confirmed. Left turn inside takes you to the band lounge; straight ahead is the backstage area. You can head to the lounge first to sort out any details, then go to the stage to go over performance stuff.
"If you want to do a rehearsal run—check the sound, lights, stage setup, whatever—no problem. The crew's on-site doing final tweaks. Just head over whenever, but keep it under thirty minutes. I know it's tight, but we're stretched thin here too."
The guy flashed a tired, apologetic smile. You could tell he was wiped out and didn't have the energy to argue further, so he laid it all out upfront to avoid any back-and-forth whining from the band.
Cliff, though, was totally cool with it. He nodded back with a grin. "No worries! We've got it."
His quick, no-fuss response made the staffer glance up at the band again, a flicker of relief warming his exhausted eyes. He added, "You could split up—some head to the lounge, some to backstage. That way you'd make the most of your time. Good luck with the show."
It was a small suggestion, but it could save them precious minutes. That kind of thoughtfulness meant a lot to a chaotic newbie band like King for a Day.
Everyone nodded their thanks and filed inside. After a quick huddle, they split up: Cliff and Maxim went to the lounge, while Ronan and Ollie headed backstage to maximize their time.
Alice, clutching her camera, pouted a little. She couldn't be in two places at once. She'd wanted to check out the lounge, but worried the organizers might not like her filming and cause a fuss that'd waste time. So, she tagged along with Ronan to the stage instead.
No time for chit-chat—Ronan and Ollie made a beeline for backstage. The sound, set, lighting, and prop crews were mostly done, now running tests with different effects to make sure everything would dazzle the crowd.
Ronan's eyes sparkled with curiosity. Sure, King for a Day had played tons of stages before, but today's felt different—special. Plus, this was his first time officially stepping onto a proper stage like this, and that made it hit different.
From the cluttered, dim, stuffy corner of backstage, he looked up the steps, one by one, until he saw the stage—deep brown wooden planks pieced together, bathed in a golden spotlight that drew every eye to the center.
This was it. The place where magic happened.