The Greatest Showman #763

Neil, standing on the bar, commanded the room with energy. He waved his hands vigorously, inciting waves of cheers, "Renly! Renly! Renly!"

The whole bar grew livelier. Everyone raised their beers high, cheering and shouting with smiles. It wasn't the overwhelming heat of the premiere crowd, but the collective noise was deafening, shaking the air. It was as though the place Renly stood on had become the center of the universe.

Renly couldn't help but smile. He shouted at Neil, but the surrounding noise drowned his voice. So, Neil knelt beside Renly, leaning in to yell. His antics sparked whistles and cheers, but he paid no mind. Once he stood again, he motioned for everyone to quiet down, shouting, "Renly just said—next round is on him!"

The crowd erupted into another loud cheer, as if preparing for battle.

Renly turned his gaze away, feeling the burning attention of the girl beside him. With a grin, he replied, "You invited me, and I invited you. Two rounds of drinks."

The girl raised an eyebrow, laughing heartily. She patted the table, giving him a thumbs-up. "Thanks. I was worried about the next round!"

Her honesty and straightforwardness were refreshing, with a hint of youthful playfulness. She winked at Renly and grabbed the beer Neil had set down—three bottles in each hand. She raised a bottle toward him, and with a teasing smile, she called out, "Halsey!"

Without further words, she turned and walked away.

In 2016, Halsey rose to fame with the hit song "Closer," alongside The Chainsmokers. However, long before this success, she carved her own path in the music world. "Closer" simply gave her a larger platform.

Renly wasn't well-versed in music, so while he knew of Halsey, his knowledge was limited. However, in 2011, Halsey was likely an unknown, hustling through New York, hoping for a breakthrough.

Her personality was evident even in this brief interaction.

Renly chuckled softly, muttering, "Young man?" He shook his head and took a swig of his Heineken. After three days without proper rest, he felt like his legs were barely touching the ground, as though floating.

"You should've come earlier," Neil said, jumping down from the bar and giving Renly a playful hug. It was more like a slap on the back than a true embrace. When Renly shot him a look, Neil laughed. "Woody Allen sat here for a while tonight. He even asked when you'd be performing here again. How about another day? The legendary Woody Allen would come to watch."

"Woody Allen is no Bob Dylan," Renly quipped, a slight smirk forming on his face.

Neil laughed, knowing the difference between film and music icons. "Stanley was looking for you earlier. He said there's a surprise for you on the seventh deck." Neil raised his chin, a mischievous glint in his eye, but he hesitated to reveal more.

At first, Renly wasn't interested, but now, curiosity piqued, he began to feel a spark of intrigue.

As Renly started to leave, Neil stopped him, grinning smugly. "Told you so."

Neil's pride was palpable. Throughout the journey, he had always believed in Renly's music, even when others, like George Slender and Stanley Charlesson, had been skeptical. Now, with Don Quixote topping the Billboard charts, Neil's confidence had been vindicated.

Renly smiled and gave a casual, "You deserve it."

With that, Neil picked up a rag and slammed it on the bar, whistling and provoking the others around him. They joined in with cheers, even if they didn't quite know the reason.

As Renly walked toward booth number seven, nearly everyone raised their beer in salute. "To Don Quixote!" someone shouted, and the rest followed. The cheers were scattered but full of enthusiasm.

The deep, internal flame of ambition and passion had long been tempered by life's struggles. But as Renly entered this bar—the Pioneer Village, once again—he felt it rekindling. The place was alive with energy, and Don Quixote had become a symbol for it all.

Stanley stood up, arms open wide, greeting Renly warmly. "Ah, you must have a good nose for finding the best liquor!"

Stanley's aged face was now smooth and relaxed, as if revitalized. In recent months, he seemed to have found a second youth. The Pioneer Village had once again become the most unique bar in Manhattan, witnessing the pulse of history.

Renly hugged Stanley and stepped aside, his eyes falling on a special bottle on the table—Alexander & Maison whisky, Stanley's personal collection.

This was no ordinary bottle. There were only twelve bottles in the world, each aged for over 60 years. It was priceless, and Stanley had kept it for years as a treasured possession. People often joked about it being a family heirloom, but Renly had never seen it—until now.

"Stanley?" Renly asked, voice laced with curiosity.

Stanley sat down with a smile. "If collecting is just collecting, then whisky never reveals its true value. You see, the beauty of a bottle of whisky isn't just in the liquid, but in the rich, mellow aroma developed by time. And when the taste aligns with your mood—well, that's the perfect moment."

"…So, you think this is the moment?" Renly chuckled, but Stanley didn't respond. Instead, he gestured for Renly to sit. "Today, I shared a glass with George, Woody, Neil, and Janice. The only regret is that you weren't here. But now, today is the perfect time."

Stanley began preparing the drink—cleaning the glass, filling a container with tartar and ice cubes. Then he carefully poured a little of the amber liquid into the glass. The whisky shimmered, crystal-like in the light. Renly could sense the history and care in Stanley's hands.

Stanley was focused, not worried about breaking or spilling the bottle, but savoring the liquid's every movement. His expression was serene, as though he was reliving something profound through the whisky, an unspoken connection with time itself.

Renly had seen this same kind of reverence in George Slender before—now, in Stanley Charlesson, it was as clear as ever. This was no mere drink.

The Don Quixote album had proven itself in ways Renly hadn't fully realized until this moment. Whether through the fans cheering, or Stanley lost in thought over a bottle of whisky, the album represented more than music—it was a symbol of everything people were striving for in life.

It wasn't just a Billboard win, nor just an album—it was something far deeper. The weight of it was real and heavy.

"Have you tasted it?" Stanley asked, offering the glass to Renly. "This whisky has a rich, dense flavor. A bit of excitement, but unforgettable."

Renly took the glass, watching the light shine through the amber liquid. "Not yet," he said, "But today, we'll break this silence. I hope it's not the last time."

Stanley smiled, half-joking, "Depends on your next performance."

Renly gave him an exaggerated look of disgust, causing Stanley to laugh. Renly raised the glass, savoring the moment as the whisky met his tongue. It felt like a dance—powerful yet graceful.