Chapter 895: Survival

Having the same idea as someone else wasn't a big deal. But if the melody and lyrics were identical? That would be outright plagiarism.

Even though the Olympic songs she remembered hadn't been officially announced yet, she still wouldn't dare submit them.

Of course, that didn't mean she was out of options.

After all, she was from the future.

If she couldn't use a song from this Olympics, what about the next one? Or the one after that?

She had always liked Survival, the official song of the 2012 London Olympics. It was probably the most rock-driven Olympic anthem ever—fiery, intense, and filled with the perfect energy for a high-stakes competition.

Forget the whole "winning isn't everything, friendship comes first" sentiment—if sports were just about participation, they wouldn't have evolved into the global spectacle they are today.

Sports were about competition. About striving for first place.

If the Olympics needed a song, it had to be explosive.

So she decided to submit Survival.

Whether they would accept it or not was another matter—that depended on whether they were open to this kind of high-energy, intense track.

—

To record the song, Laila had an ingenious idea—she called Roy back from his filming schedule to have him sing it.

Come on.

Is an opportunity this good? Why waste it on someone else?

She wasn't about to let some random singer take the spotlight when she had her star to promote.

Roy was already a globally recognized Hollywood icon. If he could perform at such a massive international event, it would be a huge boost to his career.

At the same time, his presence would also serve as major publicity for the host country—his movies, his star power, his fanbase… all of that combined would ensure millions, if not hundreds of millions, of people tuned in to watch the Olympics.

—

"Me? Singing at the Olympics?"

Roy nearly choked on his spit when he heard her proposal.

"You dragged me back just for this?"

"Yep. Any problems?" Laila blinked innocently.

Roy's eye twitched.

Yes. Plenty of problems.

He had thought something serious had happened. He had rushed back, taking leave from his film set—only to find out it was because she wanted him to sing.

"…Are you sure I'm the right person for this?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" Laila tilted her head. "Didn't you perform at the Super Bowl before?"

Roy pressed a hand to his forehead. "I did, but… don't you see the difference?"

Laila thought for a moment. "…Not really?"

Which stadium was bigger, the Bird's Nest or a Super Bowl arena?

She had no idea—sports weren't exactly her forte.

"Even if there is a difference, it's probably not that big. Nothing to worry about."

Roy sighed. "I'm not talking about the venue."

"…Then what?"

Roy groaned. "Sure, the stadiums might have similar capacities—maybe a difference of a few thousand or tens of thousands of people. That's not the issue. The issue is the broadcast audience."

Laila blinked. "…Oh. I see."

Then she smirked.

"So… you're scared?"

"I am NOT scared!"

That terrible attempt at reverse psychology worked.

Roy bristled. "I was a rookie when I performed at the Super Bowl, and I still pulled it off. Why would I be scared now?"

"Exactly." Laila spread her hands. "So go get ready. We're heading to the studio soon."

"…Damn it, you win."

Roy sighed in defeat.

But was he going to back out now?

It was just a song—how hard could it be?

And it wasn't like he was bad at singing. The first song he had ever recorded had topped the charts for weeks. Sure, most of the credit went to Laila's incredible songwriting, but his voice had played a part too, right?

—

Recording wasn't an issue.

After acquiring an entertainment agency, Laila invested heavily in state-of-the-art training facilities and equipment.

Their recording studio wasn't just professional—it was one of the best.

For Roy, singing was just a side skill. As an actor, he didn't need to sing often, but he had a natural talent for it.

His voice was rich and magnetic—even when he simply spoke, people found it captivating.

Put that voice into a song, and the effect was stunning.

That was why he had even been invited to voice animated characters—his deep, expressive tone had won over critics and audiences alike.

Laila didn't waste time. She handed the song and Roy over to the professionals and left them to handle the technical work.

She wasn't too concerned about this demo.

If the song got accepted, they could always re-record it.

If not?

Then there was no need to go through the trouble.

—

But while she was relaxed, Roy was not.

An Olympic anthem was no joke.

If he was going to do this, he had to give it everything.

He wanted every note to be perfect.

Unfortunately, the more pressure he put on himself, the worse he performed.

The more tense he got, the more mistakes he made.

By the third attempt, he was getting worse, not better.

"Roy, you're too tense." The sound engineer sighed. "Relax. You need to loosen up."

The engineer had no idea that this song was for the Olympics, but he could tell that its difficulty wasn't too high.

As long as Roy sang it naturally, it would sound great.

But for some reason, Roy kept forcing his voice.

He had even cracked a few times—a problem he never had.

And with Laila watching, the pressure only increased.

After another failed attempt, Laila finally called him out of the booth.

"Take a break."

Roy wiped the sweat from his face. "This is ridiculous."

He had performed in front of tens of thousands of people before. Why was he messing up in a recording booth?

"It's not your fault," Laila said. "It's mine."

She realized now—if she hadn't told him this was for the Olympics, he probably wouldn't be this stressed.

But her words only made Roy feel worse.

"No, it's my fault," he muttered. "Maybe I'm just out of practice."

"Well, yeah," Laila admitted. "I only gave you the song recently. You haven't had much time to practice. It's not surprising that you're struggling a bit."

The problem was—time wasn't on their side.

They needed to submit the song soon.

But at this rate, would they even finish it?

—

At that moment, the sound engineer made a suggestion.

"How about we record it line by line and stitch it together in post?"

Laila's eyes lit up. "That works?"

The engineer chuckled. "Of course. Sometimes, when a singer is struggling or not in the best condition, we record in segments and edit it seamlessly afterward."

Laila was about to agree—

But Roy suddenly interrupted her.