Rewind With A Superstar System-Chapter 79: Debut Single

< 🎧 Song Recommendation: This Side Of Paradise by Coyote Theory>

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The reality of the corporate machine staring back at them from the phone screen was a bitter pill to swallow, but surprisingly, the hurdle didn’t completely derail their momentum.

Emily quickly took control of the situation, refusing to let the ranking dampen their spirits. She laid out the harsh reality of the industry, pointing out that Julian had simply bought his way to the top tier with sponsored ads and label money.

In contrast, every single stream Von had earned came from a real, dedicated listener who had actively searched for his name.

Debuting at Rank nineteen without a single billboard or radio push was not a defeat, but rather a massive victory.

She firmly assured him that this was only the beginning and that the numbers would surely improve once the weekend crowd got a hold of the track.

Her confidence became the exact anchor Von needed. Trusting her experience, he went to sleep that night convinced that word-of-mouth would inevitably propel him upwards by Saturday.

But the music industry was rarely a fairy tale.

The next day, Von eagerly expected the ranking to improve. Instead, when Emily checked the daily update, Julian remained comfortably glued to the number two spot, while Von had fallen two places to Rank 21.

"It’s just the weekend dip," Emily had rationalized. "Casual listeners."

But the trend didn’t break. It remained like that for the next few days. By Wednesday, Von had slowly bled down to Rank 25. Julian, despite the backing, only lost a single place, settling at Rank 3 behind Jack Sherwin and a formerly released rap anthem.

It was a descent that made Von question every decision he had made since leaving the Star Mansion.

He was sitting on the floor of his apartment, mindlessly tossing a tennis ball against the wall, when his phone rang. It was Emily.

"We got a spot," she announced immediately, skipping any pleasantries. "The Acoustic Sessions on the global digital broadcast. It’s a huge platform for breaking artists."

Von paused, catching the tennis ball. His eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Wait, seriously? How did you manage that? I thought we were getting locked out of the major media circuits."

"I had to pull a lot of strings and call in some favors from my old Uptown days," Emily said proudly, the smirk evident in her voice.

"But honestly, the producers wanted you. Your song is really well accepted online, Von. You have your core fans to thank for how much they love it. They’ve been spamming the show’s comment sections demanding you perform. Soon enough, with appearances like this, you’ll start doing much better with the streams."

The news was a much-needed shot of adrenaline. The rest of the week became an absolute blur. It was packed from dawn until dusk.

Von barely had a moment to breathe as he bounced between impromptu street performances, late-night vocal rehearsals for the upcoming acoustic show, and endless social media updates. The physical and mental strain was immense, a far cry from the pampered, scheduled life of a reality TV contestant.

***

Miles away from the gritty streets of Queens, in a dimly lit bedroom illuminated only by the glow of dual monitors, a girl named Maya sat staring blankly at her editing timeline.

It was 2:00 AM. Empty cans of energy drinks littered her desk. Maya was a freelance video editor, and she was currently battling a severe case of editor’s block.

She was working on a personal passion project, a cinematic villain arc edit featuring clips from her favorite dark fantasy anime.

She had the visuals cut perfectly. The color grading was flawless, the transitions were smooth, but it was missing its soul. She had spent the last two hours scrolling through her music library, trying out heavy metal tracks, generic trap beats, and overly dramatic orchestral scores. None of them fit.

They were all either too messy or lacked the specific emotional punch she needed for the climax of the video.

"Come on," Maya groaned, rubbing her burning eyes. "Give me something with some actual grit."

She clicked over to a generic New Indie Releases playlist on the platform, preparing to be disappointed yet again. She blindly clicked a track with a dark, simple cover art of a clown with two faces.

The title read: Masquerade. Maya put on her heavy, noise-canceling headphones and hit play.

She expected generic strumming or a flat beat. Instead, she was met with a haunting, slow vocal intro that immediately sent shivers down her arms.

But when the beat dropped and the rap began, Maya felt like she had literally ascended.

"Wow," she breathed out, her eyes widening in the dark room. The beat was perfectly synchronized with a heavy heartbeat. "What is this? How haven’t I heard this before?"

She quickly looked up the singer’s profile. Von Varley. She recognized the name vaguely from some reality TV drama her friends had been talking about, but she didn’t care about the politics. She only cared about the sound.

It was the missing puzzle piece.

She dragged the audio file into her Premiere Pro timeline. The heavy snares and the aggressive, venomous rap verses perfectly matched the sword strikes and dramatic character shifts in her video. She spent the next three hours in an absolute trance, meticulously syncing her visual transitions to the heavy thumps of the track.

By 5:30 AM, she exported the final file. She uploaded it to TickTock, tagged the sound, and titled it: "The masks are off. 🎭 #VillainArc" Exhausted, she collapsed into bed and fell asleep instantly.

When Maya woke up at 1:00 PM the same day, her phone was burning hot to the touch on her nightstand. The screen was an endless blur of push notifications.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she opened the TickTock app. She almost dropped the phone on her face.

The edit she had posted had 900,000 likes!

"What the..." Maya sat up, her jaw completely unhinged. Her most popular video prior to this had barely scraped 900 likes. This single video had amassed nearly a million in a matter of hours, and the view count was skyrocketing past four million.

She opened the comment section, her hands trembling slightly.

[Sizzling Bacon 99: FIRE EDIT!! Bro the transitions are so clean! What’s that song why haven’t I heard it before?! 🔥🔥]

[Anime God_xX: This audio is literally ascending me. I’m definitely using this sound for my next video.]

[SarahSmiles_Not: Wow can I duet your video? The beat drop is insane.]

[Tea Time Drama Queen: Wait, why haven’t I heard this song? Who is the artist??]

[Ginger Brad: OMG guys!! I know this song from Project: Star! It’s Von Varley’s finale song! So they later released the studio version?? I’m adding it to my Playlist ASAP!! 😭]

Maya rapidly replied to a few comments, pointing them toward Von’s streaming profiles, but she was mostly just staring in absolute shock at how the video had performed. The combination of her sleek visuals and the aggressive, addictive nature of the song had created the perfect algorithmic storm.

Seeing the massive engagement, she immediately decided to make three more videos utilizing different sections of the song.

She wasn’t the only one. The audio from her video was reused by thousands of other creators within the hour. Makeup artists used the beat drop to transition into dark, dramatic looks. Gym influencers used the heavy bass to soundtrack their deadlifts. Teenagers used the lyrics to vent about toxic friendships.

Slowly, almost invisibly at first, TickTock was being entirely overtaken by a song from an indie artist. Thousands of videos were multiplying into tens of thousands.

***

Von pushed his way through the heavy double doors of a lavish banquet hall in Long Island. He was wearing a slightly stiff, rented black suit, and he looked thoroughly miserable.

He had just finished a forty-five-minute set. He had poured his heart into his vocals, navigating the complex runs of his original songs, only to be met with polite, scattered applause from a crowd of wedding guests who were vastly more interested in the open bar and the chocolate fountain than the live entertainment.

He aggressively loosened his tie as he walked out into the cool night air, making a beeline for the familiar black van parked by the curb.

He yanked the passenger door open and threw himself into the seat, letting out a long, frustrated groan.

Emily looked up from her tablet, unfazed by his dramatic entrance. "How was the food today?"

"Don’t," Von snapped, rubbing his temples. He was visibly upset and completely drained. "When you said you were booking shows, I expected The Roxy. I expected the Bowery Ballroom. Hell, I expected dive bars in Brooklyn. Since that first Acoustic Sessions taping, I’ve only been performing at weddings and sweet sixteen parties."

Emily sighed, setting her tablet down. She saw his annoyance, and truthfully, she understood it.

The frustration didn’t just stem from the unglamorous gigs. It came from the suffocating reality of the charts. Despite the initial hype and the hardcore fans,

Masquerade was barely moving on the official rankings. As of yesterday’s update, the song only had 800,000 total streams across all platforms.

Even worse, the slow bleed had continued. After dropping to Rank 25, the song had continued to fall, officially leaving the Hot 50 chart entirely by the end of its first week.

While 800k streams was not a bad number for a completely unknown indie artist, it was a massive disappointment for a song that had come with so many expectations and national television exposure.

It stung even more when Emily had checked the industry reports that morning: Julian’s Always Love You had already crossed 9,000,000 streams, comfortably sitting in the top five.

"Well..." Emily started, her usual confidence replaced by a rare moment of pragmatic hesitation.

"Honestly, Von, I don’t know what to do myself. The indie route is brutal. We’re fighting an ocean with a bucket. We might as well make some actual money from all these private gigs. If we can’t help the song climb the charts, we can at least profit from your short-termed popularity to keep a roof over our heads."

Von relapsed deeper into the leather seat, staring out the window at the streetlights. He let out a long, heavy sigh of disappointment.

It wasn’t the fairy tale ending he had expected. He had thought talent and grit would be enough to instantly conquer the machine. He had thought wrong.

"What rank is it now?" Von asked with a hollow voice. He didn’t even want to know, but a morbid curiosity forced the question out of his throat.

Emily picked up her phone. She was about to open her mouth and gently remind him that he had left the Hot 50 yesterday, so there was no point in checking the chart.

But out of habit, she opened the Musify app anyway, navigating to the daily update page that had just refreshed.

But as ehe looked at the screen, the words died in her throat. Her eyes went wide, reflecting the bright glow of the application.

The color rapidly drained from her face, leaving her looking as if she had just seen a ghost.

"Emily?" Von asked, noticing her sudden, frozen silence. "What is it? Oh, I remember it’s fallen off from the rankings already."

Emily slowly turned her head to look at him, shoving the phone at his face.

"You’re... Von... You’re Number 10!!"