Chapter 267 - 267: 267 | Capitalizing On It

<🎧 Song Recommendation: Benz Truck (re**k) by Lil Peep

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🚿 TSHH~ 🚿

The locker room shower sent clouds of warm steam rolling up toward the ceiling.

Von leaned his head back into the spray, letting the water wash away the dried sweat and the lingering chalky residue of theatrical fog clinging to his skin.

His muscles were tight from the physical strain of the descent and the high-energy set, but the hot water did its job, loosening the tension in his neck and shoulders.

After ten minutes under the stream, he shut off the valve, grabbed a clean white towel from the rack, and stepped out onto the bath mat.

Wiping a circle of steam off the wide vanity mirror, Von dried his face and ran the towel through his dripping dark hair.

He pushed the damp strands back and took a good look at his reflection.

His hair had grown out noticeably over the last few months. Untied, it reached well past his shoulders, falling in heavy waves around his neck. For tonight's show, he had used two black elastic bands just to keep it from whipping into his eyes during the guitar solo.

Von gathered the wet length into one hand, turning his head side to side.

'I might have to cut it soon enough,' he thought, letting the hair drop back over his shoulders. 'But I'll hold off for now. Might come in handy for an acting gig.'

He wrapped a dry towel around his waist, slipped on his slides, and reached for the counter.

Before heading out to the main locker room, he paused, remembering the prompt he had pushed to the back of his mind the moment the final blackout hit the stage.

He inhaled slowly, cleared his thoughts, and called up the interface.

The purple panel materialized instantly before his eyes, followed by a crisp sequence of chimes.

[Ding!]

[SHOW 3 OF 26: COMPLETE]

● Venue: Amway Center, Orlando

● Attendance: 18,340

[Evaluating performance...]

[PERFORMANCE SCORE: 98]

● Remark: Masterful crowd control and scenery adaptation.

'Ninety-eight,' Von hummed quietly to himself, nodding in satisfaction. 'Not bad at all.'

The evaluation window slid away, and the momentum tracker expanded cleanly beneath it.

[Condition met: Score of 90 or above.]

[BONUS: THE UNSEEN]

● Detected: "I Just Might Be Dreaming" >> never performed before an audience.

● Detected: "Illusions" >> executed to perfection.

● Conditions satisfied. Two additional Momentum tiers granted immediately.

[MOMENTUM: x4 >> x7]

Von stared at the multiplier for a moment, letting out a low breath.

Seven times momentum.

At the base rate of a thousand EXP per show, that meant he was now banking seven thousand EXP, and he was only three dates into a twenty-six-city run.

If he held the streak alive, the eventual payout at would be astronomical.

'Now I just have to maintain this so it doesn't reset to 1x,' Von thought.

It was easier said than done. Scoring a 90 or higher required near to zero errors and fresh arrangements every single night. One off night and the entire multiplier collapsed back to square one.

Still, the fire in his chest burned steady. He had made the pledge, and he had no intention of slowing down.

Von dismissed the interface, pulled on a pair of comfortable grey sweatpants and a black crewneck, and pushed open the heavy bathroom door.

The main visiting locker room was alive with noise.

The band and dancers had already showered and changed into comfortable travel clothes. Alex was sprawled on one of the leather benches with a sports drink in hand, while Conor was busy untaping his wrists by his gear bag.

The moment Von walked through the doorway, the room went up in cheers.

"There he is!" Conor barked, tossing a rolled towel straight at him. "The man who walked on air!"

"You keep proving to be a better guitarist than me," Alex said, shaking his head with a wide grin.

Kiana turned around from packing her makeup kit, clapping her hands. "Von, seriously, the timing on those your steps was scary to watch from the wings, but it looked gorgeous on the big screen. Absolutely unbelievable."

Max, who was sitting on the edge of a massage table waved a hand dismissively at the group.

"Why are you guys even surprised?" Max asked, popping a handful of almonds into his mouth. "It's just Von doing Von things. The man lives to show off."

The room chuckled, and Von caught the towel Conor had thrown, draping it over his shoulder with a laugh.

"Thanks for the love, guys," Von said, leaning against one of the tall stalls. "But you guys were even more amazing out there tonight. I couldn't have pulled any of that off alone."

Max squinted at him, making a face. "Aww, look at you trying to be humble. Stop lying, bro. We know you run the circus."

"I'm dead serious," Von said, pointing toward Conor. "Conor was the reason the song sounded this good, he never dissapoints."

Conor smirked, tapping his chest with two fingers. "It's basic stuff, always."

"And Alex, that fuzz tone on the lead lick cut right through the low end without muddying the mix," Von added. "Plus Kiana, your crew were flawless yet again."

Kiana gave a proud little bow. "They're professionals, Von. They weren't going to let you down."

Before the celebration could stretch any further, the metal door at the end of the hall swung open with a bang.

David walked in holding a tablet under one arm and a stack of printed day sheets in the other. He stopped at the center of thecarpet, looking around the room with his usual no-nonsense expression.

"Alright, wrap up the party, people," David announced, tapping the face of his watch. "The stage is already fifty percent in the trucks. Local load-out is ahead of schedule. The coaches will be staged at dock four in sixty minutes, and the convoy rolls straight north. Atlanta is next on the board."

Max froze mid-chew, his eyes widening in pure horror.

"What? Already?!" Max groaned loudly, flopping backward flat onto the massage table. "We just finished sweating! My legs are still recovering from the ice plunge this morning! We don't even get to sleep in real beds?!"

Von let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Yep. That's how tours work, Max."

"Ow, man," Max muttered into the ceiling, groaning like he was being sent to a labor camp. "Touring is a scam. I was promised five-star room service."

David completely ignored him, turning to the rest of the room.

"In the meantime, catering has hot Cuban sandwiches and citrus roast pork boxed up in the production office," David said. "Grab your plates, pack your personal bags, and be on your respective buses by midnight. Don't make me hunt anyone down in this building."

"Sandwiches first, survival later," Alex said, pushing off the bench.

The room cleared out quickly as the band and crew filtered down the corridor toward catering, eager to refuel before the overnight drive.

By 1:15 AM, the Amway Center loading dock was dark and silent.

The fourteen Vanguard tractors and four entertainer coaches rolled out of the underground bays in a tight, orderly formation, their tires humming steadily against the highway as they cleared downtown Orlando and merged onto the interstate heading north toward Georgia.

Inside the lead coach, the main cabin was quiet.

Conor and Alex were in the front galley sharing a bag of chips while talking in low voices about guitar pedals, while Max had already retreated into his lower bunk, determined to sleep off his phantom injuries.

Von walked down the carpeted aisle, intending to grab a bottle of water from the kitchenette, when a hand reached out from the rear lounge doorway and caught his sleeve.

It was Emily.

She had her hair tied back in a low bun, wearing a soft cream knit sweater and sweatpants. She gestured with her chin toward the leather wrap-around booth inside the private rear lounge.

Von followed her inside, and she slid the pocket door shut behind them, cutting off the faint sounds of conversation from the front of the bus.

Emily sat down, propping her elbows on the small wooden table while her phone lay face up between them. Her screen was glowing with a rapid stream of notifications.

She looked up at him, a slow, knowing smile touching the corners of her lips.

"You really never make a bad song, do you?"