Hugo felt like the band AC/DC was performing "Back. In. Black." inside his head. The pounding drumbeats and piercing metallic sounds were shaking his eardrums like heavy hammers striking directly at his heart without any resistance. The electric surge coursing through his body made his muscles contract violently, compressing his heart into a tight ball, and his brain, deprived of oxygen, turned into a chaotic mess.
If all this were happening at a concert, it would have been a wonderful experience. But having it explode completely inside his skull was far from pleasant. That sense of brutality erupting from the depths of his soul made Hugo feel as if he were being torn apart. His churning stomach kept sending up waves of acidic bile, and it felt like all his internal organs were about to be vomited out.
A fierce jolt struck his chest, forcing every bubble of air from his lungs in an instant. The surrounding darkness was ripped apart, and countless bright spots swarmed in. The dazzling light quickly overwhelmed Hugo's slightly opened eyes. "Huff" Hugo gasped suddenly, opening his mouth wide and gulping in fresh air.
"Hugo! Damn it, wake up! I told you not to… Shit! 'Careful, careful,' I've told you hundreds of times not to let yourself go, and yet… Hugo!" A steady but anxious voice poured into Hugo's ears with a flurry of rapid words, but Hugo couldn't respond right away. He just felt his brain was foggy and sluggish, like a paste, and even his vision was slow to process the surrounding light. Responding to someone else's voice was out of the question.
And in that moment of delay—smack!—a slap landed on his right cheek with a burning sting that instantly snapped Hugo back to consciousness. His blurred vision finally cleared, and he saw the face of a Western man in front of him. Those icy blue eyes startled Hugo. who was this person? But there was no time to react. A strong force yanked him up, and only then did Hugo realize he had been lying on the floor.
"Are you awake now? Or do I need to splash cold water to get you oriented?" The man's nagging voice rattled in Hugo's ear like a machine gun, "But what about the makeup… Forget it, there's no time. Come on, let's go first, we'll deal with the rest later." The man grabbed Hugo and started dragging him out. Hugo barely managed to glance around—the place was a restroom before he was forced to follow along.
What the hell was going on? Hugo clearly remembered that today his band "Death Or Glory." had been invited to the Midi Rock Awards ceremony to perform on stage. This was not only their first big-stage opportunity in the ten years since the band was founded, but they had also been nominated for the Best Live Rock Performance of the Year. The 2014th Midi Rock Awards also marked the 15th anniversary of the Midi Festival, the most professional and prestigious rock stage in the country. For Death Or Glory, who had struggled in the underground rock scene for a decade, this nomination and performance opportunity was once in a lifetime.
But just before going on stage, the blinding lights made Hugo dizzy. At first, he thought it was just low blood sugar from not eating all day. Who would've known that the headache would hit like an explosion right after? The scorching lights felt like they were roasting him alive. Then everything fell into darkness, like the world had collapsed, and he lost all sense of everything. When he regained awareness, he experienced the intense sensations from earlier.
Did he faint just now and delay the performance? That absolutely couldn't happen. This was the opportunity they'd dreamed of—they couldn't miss it! Hugo quickly pulled himself together, stumbling along behind the tall, burly man, rushing toward the direction of the lights, almost breaking into a run.
Hugo had already thrown the dizziness to the back of his mind. Though his body still felt heavy and his steps unsteady, he couldn't care less. He just charged forward, quickly overtaking the man who had been pulling him along.
The man slowed down instead, staring in shock at Hugo's eager back running toward the spotlight. He stood still, mouth agape in disbelief and helplessness, before breaking into an astonished and absurd smile.
Hugo ran a few more steps, rushing through the retro and luxuriously decorated corridor. The thick carpet beneath his feet muffled the heavy thuds of his running. At the end of the corridor, he saw an ornate solid wooden door with dark golden carvings. Instinctively, he glanced back at the man behind him, as if to ask, "Is the performance stage behind this door?" But he found the man already a dozen yards away, his head obscured in a halo of light, completely unrecognizable. Hugo faintly sensed that something was off—very off—but the chaos of the moment gave him no time or energy to think it through.
Hugo hadn't decided whether to stop and ask or keep going when his body made the decision for him. His right shoulder slammed into the carved door, and his whole body was swallowed into a dazzling halo of light, like Alice stumbling into a dream world. The bizarre spectacle before his eyes absorbed all his attention.
"Let's welcome Hugo Lancaster!" The sound system broadcast the name with a teasing tone. Applause, whistles, and jeers crashed over him in the golden glow like a torrential downpour, instantly throwing Hugo into confusion.
Before him was a lavish and elegant banquet hall. The dazzling lights made it impossible to see the room's layout clearly—only the omnipresent glow. The golden and red colors cast a fantastical shimmer over everything. Although there were fewer than fifty people in the crowd, Hugo felt like he was facing a sea of people.
A tall blonde hostess with blue eyes gestured for him to move to the left. At this moment, Hugo didn't have time to think—everything had happened so quickly, so forcefully. He could only passively follow the hostess forward. In just ten yards, Hugo stepped onto a small stage and saw an elderly man standing at the podium, smiling broadly at him. Hugo's footsteps, out of his control, moved him toward the old man.
The elderly man extended a trophy toward him. Hugo's eyes widened instinctively. Had he won an award? Had Death Or Glory won an award? After ten years since their founding, had Death Or Glory finally made a name for themselves in the rock music scene by winning Best Live Rock Performance at the MIDI Rock Awards?
In a daze, Hugo accepted the trophy from the old man. The trophy transferred into his hands without resistance, confirming that Death Or Glory really had won. The sudden surprise left Hugo overwhelmed. He didn't even have time to examine the trophy closely. Just the heavy weight pressing in his hands was enough to sink into his heart. Tears suddenly burst from his eyes, breaking through all restraint.
This must be what it means to experience mixed emotions. At fifteen, he had run away from home to pursue his musical dream, leaving behind his family's protection to join an underground band. It was all for the sake of chasing his dream. Ten years it had been ten years since he left home to join Death Or Glory. They had endured endless hardship, struggled in the chaotic underground rock world for a decade, and finally, today, they had earned recognition.
Hugo had imagined this moment countless times and how he might react, but none of those fantasies were right. Now, he cried like a teenage girl tricked into tears by a melodramatic soap opera. Hugo knew he must look terrible right now, but he couldn't stop the tears. They fell like a torrential downpour, streaming uncontrollably.
But… where were the other band members? Where were the other four members of Death Or Glory? Why was he the only one standing on stage?
Hugo's mind, as if stuffed with cotton, couldn't process anything. Countless questions went unanswered as the old man presenting the award pushed him in front of the microphone. Staring at the mic just beneath his nose, Hugo could feel the slight heat of the lights shining on his skin, and the weight of every gaze in the audience focusing on him. His heart pounded so wildly it nearly deafened him, and he couldn't form coherent words.
"Th… thank you…" Hugo finally squeezed out a few words from his blank mind, choked by sobs. "I'm so grateful… this, this award must be shared with our entire band. It's the result of our efforts together. We've fought and struggled, and finally our dream has come true." Once the first sentence was out, the rest of the words tumbled out in a rush. But halfway through speaking, his tear-filled eyes overflowed once again.
Hugo paused, took two deep breaths, and gave up trying to say more. The flood of emotions—his tearful breakdown and immense joy—had completely paralyzed his brain. He could only express his feelings with the simplest words: "Thank you… thank you!"
He clutched the trophy tightly, as if embracing the most precious treasure of his life, holding it close to his heart to feel the beat of his pulse. Reluctant to leave the spotlight, he basked in the lights, wishing to etch this beautiful moment deep into his memory. Perhaps this was the most beautiful moment of his life so far.
Just then, the host's voice echoed once more through the speakers: "Let's once again congratulate the winner. At the 12th Golden Raspberry Awards, the award for Worst Actor goes to… Hugo Lancaster!"
What? The Golden Raspberry Awards? The 12th edition from the early '90s? Worst Actor?
This wasn't the MIDI Rock Awards?
Hugo looked down at the trophy in his hands—at the golden raspberry-shaped statue—and in an instant, his tears froze. Not just the tears, even his blood and brain froze. He had actually received the Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Actor? What the hell was going on! Hugo stood there in utter confusion, completely shattered.