From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 440: Alice.....

Alice didn't realize how long she'd been sitting there until the screen dimmed on its own.

The room was quiet in that controlled way she liked curtains half drawn, a soft strip of light cutting across the floor, her desk untouched except for a closed folder and a glass of water she hadn't reached for. The city outside moved, distant, muted. None of it touched the space she'd carved out for herself.

Her phone lit again.

The video restarted.

She didn't press play this time. It just… looped.

Dayo's hand at her waist. The angle slightly off, like it had been taken from somewhere it shouldn't have been. Her face mostly hidden, thank God, just the edge of her cheek, the line of her jaw if you looked too closely. Him leaning in. The pause. Then the kiss.

Not rushed.

Not messy.

Too clear.

Her thumb hovered, then tapped the screen.

Pause.

Right there.

She stared at it for a second longer than she should have.

Then she locked the phone.

Placed it face down.

Exhaled slowly.

Silence came back in, filling the room again, but it wasn't the same kind as before. This one sat heavier. It stayed in her chest instead of around her.

She reached for the glass, took a small sip, then set it back down carefully like anything sudden might break something she couldn't see.

Her phone buzzed.

She didn't look at it immediately.

Another buzz.

Then she flipped it over.

Valerie.

Alice's fingers rested on the screen for a moment before she answered.

"Hey."

"Don't 'hey' me like everything is normal," Valerie said, her voice already halfway into amusement. "Have you seen what's going on?"

Alice leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"I've seen a few things."

"A few things," Valerie repeated, a soft laugh under it. "You mean the entire internet trying to figure out who that woman is?"

Alice didn't respond immediately. She let the silence sit just enough to feel natural.

Valerie continued, lighter now, but curious underneath.

"I mean, it's everywhere. Blogs, forums, even the mainstream ones are picking it up now. They're slowing it down, zooming in like they're going to magically uncover her face."

Alice glanced at the phone again, the paused frame still there in her mind even without looking.

"They won't," she said simply.

There was a small pause on the other end.

"You sound very sure."

"I am."

Valerie hummed, not disagreeing, just taking it in.

"I'm just saying… it's impressive. Whoever she is, she got that close to him without anyone knowing. That's not normal. You know how he is."

Alice let out a quiet breath through her nose.

"Yeah. I know."

"And now this?" Valerie went on. "It's like… people are obsessed. They're treating it like some kind of mystery they have to solve."

Alice's gaze drifted to the window, to the thin slice of light that hadn't moved much.

"That's what happens when you give people something they're not used to seeing."

"Which is him being human?" Valerie said, half joking.

Alice almost smiled, but it didn't fully form.

"Something like that."

Another small pause.

Then Valerie said it.

Casual. Offhand. Not thinking too much about it.

"She kind of moves like you."

Alice didn't react outwardly.

But something in her chest tightened.

A small, sharp thing.

Her fingers pressed slightly into the armrest before she loosened them again.

"What does that even mean?" she asked, keeping her tone level.

"I don't know," Valerie said quickly. "Just… the way she stands. The way she leans in. It felt familiar for a second."

Alice let out a soft, dismissive breath.

"You're reading too much into a blurry clip."

"Maybe," Valerie said, not fully convinced but not pushing it either. "I mean, I don't actually think it's you."

Alice's lips pressed together faintly.

"Good."

Valerie laughed lightly, shifting the energy.

"Relax, I'm not investigating you. I'm just curious. Everyone is."

Alice leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Curiosity dies when there's nothing to feed it."

"That's the thing," Valerie replied. "There's always something."

Alice didn't answer that.

Instead, she shifted the conversation.

"How's everything on your end?"

Valerie caught the change immediately but let it happen.

"Busy. Same as always. We're trying to keep things stable with everything going on around him. The competition, the media noise, now this…"

She trailed off, then added,

"He's handling it the way he always does, though. Quiet. Not saying anything."

Alice's eyes dropped briefly.

"Of course he is."

"You think that's the right move?" Valerie asked.

Alice paused, thinking, then said,

"It keeps things from becoming bigger than they already are."

Valerie hummed again.

"Or it lets people build whatever story they want."

Alice leaned back.

"They're going to do that anyway."

There was a moment of silence between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… aware.

Then Valerie sighed softly.

"Well, either way, it's interesting. I'll give him that. He knows how to stay at the center of things without actually stepping into it."

Alice didn't respond.

Because that wasn't the full truth.

But she wasn't going to say that.

They talked a little longer after that—work, schedules, small updates that didn't carry weight. It stayed surface level, controlled, safe.

Then the call ended.

And the room went quiet again.

Alice sat there for a while without moving.

Her phone rested on her lap now.

She unlocked it.

The video was still there.

She didn't play it this time.

Just looked at the thumbnail.

Then she scrolled.

Comments moving fast.

Names. Guesses. Theories.

People trying to match body language, posture, height.

Some close.

None accurate.

Not yet.

Her thumb slowed.

Then stopped.

She locked the phone again.

Set it down beside her this time.

Her head tilted back slightly, eyes closing for just a second.

This wasn't just noise.

She understood that clearly.

This was exposure waiting to happen.

And exposure, in his world, didn't come quietly.

It came with weight.

With judgment.

With consequences that didn't always belong to the right people.

Her gaze shifted toward the desk.

Toward the closed folder she hadn't touched.

Work.

Structure.

Control.

Things that made sense.

This didn't.

Her fingers tapped lightly against her thigh.

A small, restless rhythm.

She stopped it.

Forced stillness back into herself.

She knew what this was.

She knew what it could become.

And she knew exactly where she stood in it.

Not central.

Not official.

Not protected.

Just… there.

And still—

She didn't want to step away.

That was the part she didn't say out loud.

Not to Valerie.

Not even fully to herself.

But it sat there anyway.

Clear.

Uncomfortable.

Real.

—

The locker room smelled faintly of chlorine and damp fabric.

The noise from outside bled in, muted but constant crowd movement, announcements, the low hum of energy that never really settled during events like this.

Dayo sat on the bench, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees, a towel draped over his shoulders.

Water still clung to his skin, cooling fast now that the adrenaline had started to fade.

His breathing had evened out.

Body settling.

Mind… not fully there yet.

Jeffrey dropped down beside him, still carrying that post-race energy, like he hadn't fully come down from it yet.

"You know," Jeffrey said, shaking his head with a small grin, "for someone who claims he wasn't pushing, you still made it look annoying."

Dayo huffed out a quiet breath, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.

"You talk too much."

"That's because I have to," Jeffrey shot back. "You don't say anything."

Dayo leaned back a little, resting against the wall behind him.

"You were good."

Jeffrey blinked, caught off guard for a second, then shrugged like it didn't hit him.

"I know."

Dayo glanced at him briefly.

"Confidence."

Jeffrey smirked.

"Learned from the best."

Dayo shook his head once, faint amusement there, but it didn't fully settle.

Because under it—

Something else was still there.

Quiet.

Persistent.

Unresolved.

His phone buzzed beside him.

He didn't pick it up immediately.

It buzzed again.

Jeffrey glanced at it.

"You going to answer that or just let it keep vibrating?"

Dayo reached for it this time, unlocking the screen.

Sharon.

He answered.

"Yeah."

Her voice came through, direct.

"Someone is here to see you."

Dayo frowned slightly, shifting forward again.

"Who?"

There was a small pause on her end.

Then—

"Luna."

Everything in him went still.

Not dramatic.

Not visible to anyone else in the room.

But inside—

A clear, immediate shift.

His grip on the phone tightened just a fraction.

"She's here?" he asked, quieter now.

"She came in quietly," Sharon said. "Didn't want attention. She asked for you directly."

Dayo's gaze dropped to the floor for a second.

Processing.

Not overthinking.

Just… understanding what that meant.

"When?" he asked.

"A few minutes ago. She's waiting."

Another pause.

Then Dayo stood.

The towel slid off his shoulders, falling onto the bench.

"I'm coming."

He ended the call before she could say anything else.

Jeffrey was already watching him.

"What's going on?"

Dayo didn't answer immediately.

He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Someone I need to see."

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow.

"Serious?"

Dayo glanced at him briefly.

"Yeah."

Jeffrey studied his face for a second longer, like he was trying to read something deeper.

Then he nodded.

"Alright."

Dayo didn't say anything else.

He turned and started toward the exit.

The noise from outside grew slightly louder as he moved through the hallway, each step steady, controlled.

But this wasn't the same kind of control as before.

This wasn't strategy.

This wasn't distance.

This was movement.

Toward something he hadn't planned.

Toward something he couldn't manage from the outside.

The hallway stretched ahead.

Voices passing.

People moving around him.

None of it sticking.

His focus had narrowed.

One point.

One person.

And for the first time in a while—

He wasn't trying to stay ahead of it.

He was walking straight into it.