(A/N):
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While the rest of Star Entertainment continued moving forward with its ongoing projects, Krishna had quietly immersed himself in preparing what he believed would become the studio's most ambitious music video to date.
Unlike Crazy Frog, which relied on absurd comedy and infectious energy, this project demanded something entirely different.
Precision.
Timing.
Presence.
Every frame had to carry attitude.
Every movement had to flow into the next.
Every beat needed to be reflected through the dancers' bodies.
Inside one of Star Entertainment's largest VR production studios, Krishna stood alone in the middle of a vast empty stage.
With a wave of his hand, the virtual environment shifted.
The plain white floor disappeared.
Brick walls slowly rose from the ground.
Old neon signs flickered to life.
Metal fire escapes appeared overhead.
Street lamps illuminated the narrow alley.
A worn-out neighborhood pub materialized at one side of the street.
Rusted barrels.
Graffiti-covered walls.
Broken wooden crates.
Everything slowly assembled itself piece by piece until the entire location resembled a lively urban district waiting for its story to begin.
Krishna slowly walked through the set.
Every few steps he stopped.
Adjusted a wall.
Moved a street lamp.
Changed the lighting angle.
Shifted the entrance of the pub slightly.
The scene had to feel natural.
Not like a movie set.
Like a real neighborhood.
After finishing the environment, Krishna moved to the costume department.
Several holographic mannequins appeared before him.
The first one wore his own costume.
A bright crimson jacket.
A fitted black T-shirt beneath it.
Slim black trousers.
White socks visible just above polished black sneakers.
The overall appearance was simple.
Yet unmistakably stylish.
He studied it from every angle.
Satisfied, he approved the design.
Next came the two rival gangs.
Krishna didn't want them to look like ordinary street criminals.
Each side needed its own identity.
Its own visual language.
One gang wore deep blue jackets accented with silver stripes, rugged boots, fingerless gloves, and layered accessories that gave them a rough, rebellious appearance.
The opposing group wore darker maroon and charcoal outfits with leather belts, long coats, metallic wrist guards, and distinct patterns running across their sleeves.
Even before anyone spoke, audiences would immediately understand that the two groups belonged to different worlds.
Finally came the dancers.
Their costumes were intentionally simpler.
Neutral colors.
Comfortable movement.
Nothing flashy enough to steal attention from the choreography itself.
Krishna wanted viewers to watch the dance.
Not the clothing.
Several days later...
The official auditions began.
Inside the same VR studio, hundreds of applicants had gathered.
Professional dancers.
Stage performers.
Martial artists.
Even actors curious about joining the production.
Many assumed dancing for a music video would be relatively easy.
That assumption disappeared within minutes.
Krishna walked to the center of the practice hall.
Without saying much, he projected a holographic version of himself.
The avatar demonstrated a short sequence.
A few steps.
A body turn.
A shoulder movement.
A quick slide.
Then it stopped.
The entire sequence lasted barely fifteen seconds.
Krishna looked toward the applicants.
"Your turn."
The first participant confidently stepped forward.
He watched the hologram once.
Then attempted to copy it.
His footwork was decent.
His rhythm wasn't.
Halfway through the sequence he completely lost balance.
The room remained silent.
Krishna simply nodded.
"Next."
Another applicant entered.
She remembered every step correctly.
But each movement felt stiff.
Like she was counting instead of dancing.
Krishna made another note.
"Next."
One after another they came.
Some forgot the choreography entirely.
Some possessed incredible technique but failed to capture the rhythm.
Others had natural rhythm but lacked body control.
A few even stopped halfway and laughed nervously after realizing they had forgotten everything.
By the end of the first day, the floor was littered with disappointed faces.
One dancer sighed while leaving the practice area.
"I thought I was good."
His friend smiled bitterly.
"So did I."
Krishna wasn't searching for perfection.
Perfection could be taught.
What he searched for was something much harder to train.
Potential.
Musical instinct.
The willingness to learn.
The courage to keep moving even after making mistakes.
Occasionally someone would perform a sequence imperfectly...
Yet Krishna's eyes would light up.
Not because the dancer succeeded.
But because their body naturally understood the rhythm.
Those were the people he selected.
By the end of the auditions, the enormous crowd had been reduced to a much smaller group.
Some looked relieved.
Others looked completely terrified.
Because they had no idea why they had been chosen.
One young dancer finally gathered enough courage to ask,
"Director..."
"I wasn't even close to getting the steps right."
Krishna smiled.
"I know."
The dancer looked confused.
"Then..."
Krishna pointed toward the practice floor.
"You never stopped moving."
"You listened to the rhythm instead of trying to memorize positions."
"The choreography can be taught."
"That instinct can't."
The young dancer quietly nodded.
After the final selections, Krishna stood before the newly recruited dance crew.
Everyone expected rehearsals to begin immediately.
Instead, Krishna projected a large training schedule into the air.
The dancers stared at it.
Then stared again.
Finally one of them whispered,
"...Four months?"
Another looked at the calendar in disbelief.
"For..."
"...one song?"
The room fell completely silent.
Krishna nodded calmly.
"Yes."
No one spoke.
Four months of dedicated rehearsal...
For a single music video.
Many had worked on feature films that required less preparation.
One experienced performer couldn't help but laugh softly.
"I've danced on stage for almost thirty years."
"I've never seen anyone prepare this seriously for one song."
Krishna looked toward the unfinished set behind him.
"This isn't just a song."
"It's a performance people should remember years from now."
The dancers exchanged glances.
Slowly, the weight of the project settled upon them.
This wasn't another promotional music video.
It wasn't something they would finish in a week and forget.
Every step...
Every synchronized movement...
Every turn...
Every pause...
Would be rehearsed until it became second nature.
Looking at the four-month schedule floating before them, one dancer quietly muttered,
"I finally understand..."
Another looked toward the enormous virtual stage.
"Understand what?"
He smiled.
"Why everything this studio releases feels different."
No one argued with him.
Meanwhile, while the dance crew spent their days perfecting every movement inside the rehearsal hall, Krishna and Kael Virex had moved into the next stage of the project.
Recording.
Unlike composing the tune, this phase demanded absolute precision.
Every instrument.
Every vocal layer.
Every harmony.
Every beat had to fit together perfectly.
Inside Star Entertainment's state-of-the-art recording studio, dozens of holographic sound panels floated around the room.
Unlike traditional studios, every instrument was recorded separately before being assembled together with microscopic precision.
Kael stood before the enormous sound console while Krishna occupied the recording booth behind the transparent soundproof barrier.
The familiar countdown appeared.
3...
2...
1...
The instrumental track began.
The first few seconds were played repeatedly.
Again.
And again.
Sometimes Krishna stopped after only one line.
Other times he completed an entire verse before shaking his head.
"No."
"The energy dipped."
Kael immediately deleted that take.
"Again."
There wasn't a hint of frustration in his voice.
By now, both of them had entered the same creative rhythm.
Neither settled for "good enough."
Hours passed.
The vocal recordings slowly piled up.
Each new take was slightly different.
Some carried more aggression.
Others sounded smoother.
Some emphasized the rhythm.
Others highlighted emotion.
Every variation was saved.
Every variation carefully labeled.
After recording one particular section, Krishna stepped out of the booth and walked over to Kael.
"What do you think?"
Kael replayed the take.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he isolated the vocal track.
Then added the bass.
Then the percussion.
Then finally brought the electric guitar back into the mix.
The room filled with sound once more.
When it ended, Kael slowly smiled.
"The vocal is right."
He tapped the screen.
"But..."
"The guitar should answer you."
Krishna raised an eyebrow.
"Answer me?"
Kael nodded enthusiastically.
"Listen."
He replayed the same section.
This time, the guitar entered immediately after the vocal phrase, almost as if the instrument itself was responding.
Krishna's eyes widened slightly.
"There."
Kael grinned.
"Exactly."
The following days became an endless cycle of recording and refinement.
Morning sessions focused on vocals.
Afternoons were dedicated to instrument recordings.
Evenings were spent mixing everything together.
Sometimes a tiny adjustment of half a second completely transformed the feeling of an entire verse.
Sometimes changing one drum hit altered the energy of the chorus.
It was painstaking work.
Yet neither of them complained.
One evening, after nearly a week of recording, Kael finally loaded the newest rough mix.
He gestured toward the speakers.
"This version."
"Listen."
The room became silent.
The opening rhythm echoed through the studio.
The bass settled in.
The guitar followed.
Then Krishna's vocals entered.
Unlike the earlier drafts, everything now flowed naturally.
The energy kept building without ever becoming chaotic.
The transitions felt effortless.
By the time the chorus arrived, the studio itself seemed filled with momentum.
The track ended.
Silence lingered for several seconds.
Kael slowly leaned back in his chair.
"...That's dangerous."
Krishna looked at him.
"Dangerous?"
Kael laughed softly.
"I've only heard the rough mix."
"And it's already stuck in my head."
He absentmindedly tapped the rhythm on the armrest of his chair.
Without realizing it, he quietly hummed part of the melody.
Halfway through, he stopped.
"...See?"
Krishna chuckled.
"I noticed."
Kael pointed accusingly at him.
"You've created another infectious song."
Curious, one of the studio's sound engineers, who had been adjusting the audio levels in the adjacent control room, asked if he could hear the latest version.
Kael nodded.
"Go ahead."
The engineer put on his headphones.
A few minutes later, he removed them.
Instead of speaking, he replayed the chorus.
Then again.
Then once more.
Finally, he looked toward Kael.
"I wasn't checking the audio anymore."
"I was listening."
Kael burst into laughter.
"That's probably the best compliment a rough version can receive."
As the days passed, layer after layer was added.
Backing vocals.
Harmony lines.
Additional percussion.
Refined guitar sections.
Every new element made the song feel larger without overwhelming its core rhythm.
Even before the final mastering process, everyone working inside the recording studio found themselves unconsciously humming portions of the melody while walking through the corridors.
One technician realized he had been tapping the beat against the recording console for nearly ten minutes.
Another was quietly whistling the chorus while organizing equipment.
Nobody had been asked to do it.
The song simply lingered in their minds.
Late one evening, after the final recording session for the week had ended, Kael remained seated before the mixing console.
He replayed the unfinished track one last time.
When it finally ended, he looked toward Krishna with genuine admiration.
"I'll admit something."
Krishna turned toward him.
"When you first handed me the lyrics and those handwritten notes..."
"I thought you were trying something completely different."
He smiled.
"I still don't fully understand how your mind works."
He gestured toward the speakers.
"But if this is only the rough version..."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"I can't imagine what people are going to do when they hear the finished song."
Krishna looked through the studio window toward the rehearsal hall, where the dance crew continued practicing long after sunset.
"The music is only half of it."
Kael followed his gaze.
Then he smiled knowingly.
"The other half..."
"...is going to make history, isn't it?"
Krishna simply smiled.
Neither of them realized just how true those words would become.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Check my new Fan fic: Karuppan: King of Openings
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