Planing

Ronan walked back to his dorm, his mind buzzing with ideas. The afternoon sun beat down on the campus, warming the concrete paths and casting long shadows from the trees. He clutched his notebook under his arm, he bought just now, ready to sketch out a plan—songs, connections, steps to climb back up. But as he crossed the quad, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the dean's office number flashing on the screen.

Sighing, He turned toward the administration building. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice the people around him. Girls strolled by—tall, long-legged, with flawless white skin that glowed in the sunlight. Their silky hair swayed as they laughed, some blonde, some dark, all shiny and smooth. The guys weren't much different—broad shoulders, sharp jaws, hair styled just right. Compared to his old world, everyone here looked like they belonged in a magazine.

This place was full of stunning faces, more beautiful than anything he'd seen back then. And yet, even among all these perfect people, no one came close to Xyaa.

Lost in those thoughts, he reached the dean's office faster than he expected. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, spotting his friend Keiran leaning against a desk. Around him stood five other students—members of the broadcasting club, which Ronan was part of too. Their voices overlapped, casual and loud, until the dean cleared his throat.

The dean, a short man with gray hair and a crisp blue suit, stood behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in front of him. "Thanks for coming," he said, his voice firm but tired. "Every year, after graduation, we hold the annual function. This time, I'm organizing it, and I need the broadcasting club to help with preparations. It's in three weeks, so we're starting now."

He pointed at Ronan. "You'll be the host."

Ronan nodded without hesitation, his hands in his pockets. "Sure, I'll do it."

The dean shuffled some papers, glancing up. "Good. You'll introduce the acts, keep the crowd engaged. We've got performances lined up—music, a few speeches. Figure out your part and let me know."

"Got it," Ronan said, his mind already racing. This was an opportunity. A real one. Hosting would put him in front of everyone, but he could do more. If he performed a song, something new and unforgettable, it could kickstart everything. He knew how to play the guitar, not great, but decent enough. His singing wasn't perfect either, a little rough around the edges, but that didn't matter. If he picked the right song, something fresh, something this world had never heard, it could still hit hard. The uniqueness would carry him, even if his voice cracked. People would remember the song, not the flaws.

More than that, the song itself was the key. He didn't need to be the best singer, he just needed a hit, something every singer here would fight to perform later. Once someone big took it up, he'd have a connection, a way into the music industry. With his past life's knowledge, he had hundreds of chart-toppers locked in his head—songs that didn't exist in this world. One of them could be his ticket.

The dean talked more about the annual function, also about bringing the singer to perform. This singer was once student at college too.

After that some talk, he dismissed them, and Ronan headed back to his dorm.

He grabbed his notebook and a pen, and sat on the bed.

He flipped the notebook open and started writing. Hit songs from his old world spilled onto the page—"Sweet Child O' Mine," "Bohemian Rhapsody," "Billie Jean." He scribbled titles, humming bits of melodies he could still hear in his head. Then he listed songs he loved, ones that weren't huge but felt special to him—"Landslide," "Hallelujah,"

The pen scratched fast, ink smudging under his hand as he filled two pages.

But when he stopped to read them, none felt right. He leaned back, the wall cold against his shoulders, and stared at the list. The annual function was a farewell for the graduating students, including him. It wasn't just a party; it was a goodbye to this chapter. Those songs rock anthems, dance beats, slow ballads didn't fit. They were great, but they didn't match the mood. He needed something emotional, something that said farewell but left a mark. What should he do? Which song would work?

He tapped the pen against his knee, thinking hard. His train of thought chugged along maybe a love song tweaked into a goodbye, or something upbeat with a sad edge when the door banged open. Keiran stumbled in, laughing, his arm around a girl Ronan didn't recognize.

"Yo, Ronan!" Keiran grinned, his dark hair messy. "Meet Lila."

The girl, Lila giggled, her cheeks pink. She was short, with curly blonde hair and a tight red top. Keiran pulled her closer, and they crashed onto the bed beside Ronan, lips locking in a sloppy kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Keiran's hands slid down her back, their breathing loud and fast. The bed shook, jostling Ronan's notebook off the edge.

Ronan groaned inwardly. Great, he thought. Another girl. Keiran brought someone new every week—always loud, always clingy. He grabbed his notebook from the floor, the pages crumpled, and stood up. "I'm out," he muttered, not that they noticed. Keiran mumbled something into Lila's neck, and she laughed again, high-pitched and shrill.

It was night now. Ronan stepped outside. He walked down the stairs. He sat on a bench near the quad, and opened his notebook again.

He stared at the list. His mind drifted back to the dean's words, performances, music, speeches. Then it hit him. The dean had mentioned something else in passing, something Ronan hadn't focused on until now. A famous singer was coming to perform at the function.

Ronan straightened up, his pen tapping faster. Why not write a song for that singer? If he made something that suited their style something emotional, catchy, perfect for a farewell and it became a hit, he'd have a connection to a singer.

The singer could take it, perform it, spread it. It'd be easier to pick a song if he tailored it to them and the occasion. Two birds, one stone.

He didn't know who the singer was yet male, female, what kind of voice but he could just find it right away.