The Greatest Showman #884 - Leaked Secret

As a surprise contender in the 54th Grammy nominations, with six nods to his name, Renly's album Don Quixote has garnered praise from both the industry and the public. It even soared to the top of the Billboard album chart, taking the crown with ease. Although it's only been a week, there's little doubt Renly has become the odds-on favorite for tonight's big win.

In terms of popularity, Renly can't quite compare to powerhouses like Adele or Bruno Mars; however, when it comes to buzz and anticipation, he's on par with the biggest names in the industry.

When Renly said his primary goal for the evening was to promote his album, it was hard to tell if he was joking. His humor had already been noted by Hollywood journalists, who often commented on his cleverness and charm.

Amid laughter from the press corps, Renly kept a straight face and responded, "I'm not joking. The Grammys are our best publicity platform."

He continued, adding, "Originally, Don Quixote was too niche, with a very limited audience. Then, a few days ago, I held a spontaneous concert, which was definitely a financial loss. It was irrational behavior, and I'd say my bank account is in crisis right now."

His tone was deadpan, but the witty delivery was unmistakable. The juxtaposition of grave seriousness with a comedic manner left the room puzzled. Was he joking, or was this the truth? The reporters couldn't quite tell.

The situation highlighted a crucial issue for Don Quixote: an independent work struggling with market anxiety and impatience. Whether a joke or not, Renly's comments were thought-provoking. The room's atmosphere grew tense with uncertainty—should they take it seriously, or laugh it off?

As the reporters exchanged confused glances, Annie whispered to Alex, "They're so dumb. Can't they tell he's joking?" The two young ones stifled their giggles, and Renly, catching the whispers, couldn't help but smile.

Jordin, still trying to steer the interview, asked the next question, "So, you don't have any expectations about winning tonight?"

"Should I expect it?" Renly responded with a wry smile. "Three months ago, I was an actor, and no one knew I even had an album." His words had a strong ironic edge, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Hope to win?" Renly continued, "That's more of the media's wishful thinking."

In fact, Renly had never spoken about his Grammy nominations in interviews, but the media had already assumed he was aiming for a Grammy win.

This, of course, highlighted the modern media's obsession with entertainment and spectacle over substance.

"So, was that impromptu concert just a publicity stunt?" Jordin pressed.

As the noise from the crowd faded into the background, the question hung in the air. Reporters leaned in, pens poised, ready to catch every word. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

Renly's eyes narrowed slightly, an expression of amused contemplation crossing his face. He was reminded of the surreal satire of Saturday Night Live, where the absurdity of reality is often the true spectacle.

"Honestly," he began, his voice filled with both humor and cynicism, "I do hope I win tonight, just to prove all the gossip about the concert being a stunt. It's already been explained through The New York Times… but I don't want to drag it out. More importantly, I want Heather to enjoy some peace, and Ellie and Derek too."

With a grin, Renly added, "That way, this becomes a precedent. For future artists hoping to get recognized by the Grammys, they'll know just what to do. Hold a concert first, and bam—you're in."

His words were dripping with irony, but the reporters, unsure whether to challenge him, found themselves at a loss. If they refuted him, it would seem like a serious debate; if they let it slide, they'd swallow their own frustration.

At this moment, a voice rang out from the crowd, "Why did you suddenly decide to hold the concert now? It came out of nowhere."

Renly recognized the voice instantly and grinned. "Seems like The Times isn't as influential as it used to be. Some people still don't read it," he replied with a smirk. It was a pointed jab at the reporter's lack of preparation and understanding.

Alex, ever the blunt one, chimed in with a cheeky expression, "Because of Heather, obviously! Even I know that!" His words were loud and clear, and Annie, standing beside him, nodded in agreement.

The reporters were taken aback by the children's unfiltered remarks, but no one could argue—they couldn't refute the truth. Renly gently patted Alex on the shoulder, smiling. "You can't just call people 'idiots,' even if they are. It'll make them sad."

The reporters, stifling their embarrassment, could only stare in silence.

Turning his attention back to the source of the question, Renly smiled again and said, "Mr. Cornell-McGregor, I followed the ancient wisdom of the East. According to Feng Shui, that particular day was perfect for publicity. Looks like the effect worked."

With that, Renly flashed a polite nod and turned to leave. The reporters were left stunned, unsure how to react, as Renly walked toward the photo area at the entrance of the venue, flanked by Alex and Annie.

Jordin, clearly frustrated, called out, "Master, why did you bring these two kids tonight? Are they important to you? What's the meaning of it all?"

But by the time she got her question out, Renly was already gone, and the roar of the crowd drowned her voice.

The reporters were left in a mix of irritation, confusion, and frustration. They hadn't gotten their answers, and it seemed like Renly had turned the whole night into a game of misdirection.

In the photo area, the two kids were stealing the spotlight, drawing the attention of everyone around. Journalists paused to take photos of the duo as they posed enthusiastically, much to the dismay of other attendees. Even the A-list celebrities on the red carpet stopped to greet Alex and Annie, unable to resist their charm.

"Renly, who are they?" a photographer asked, trying to maintain his professionalism. "Are they… your children?"

The question, though well-intentioned, was awkward. Renly chuckled, knowing the absurdity of the assumption—he was only twenty-two, after all. "They're my friends," he said with a grin. "They came with me tonight to keep me company. I owe them a big thank you."

As the crowd continued to gather around the two children, Renly sighed, feeling a mix of affection and exasperation. It seemed the real stars of the evening were his young companions, as the media and red carpet guests alike couldn't help but be drawn to their playful energy.

Finally, Renly ushered them away from the photo area, waving goodbye to the photographers and heading toward the main venue. The night had only just begun, but it was already clear that the story of the night was about to unfold in unexpected ways.