Chapter 22: Red Flags

Magali and Brandon sat on a secluded bench near the edge of the city's park outside the Dance Square. The air between them was heavy, charged with the words Brandon had just handed her. Magali clutched the letter in her hands, her fingers fidgeting with its edges as she struggled to find the right words.

"I…" Magali began, her voice unsteady. "Brandon, this is… a lot to process." She glanced up at him, her wide blue eyes searching his face. "You know what people say about you, right? About all the girls you've dated?"

Brandon sighed softly and leaned back, his gaze fixed on the sky above. "I know," he admitted, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of regret. "I've heard the rumors. I've seen the looks. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of playboy jumping from one girl to the next." He turned his head to meet her gaze, his green eyes earnest. "But it's not what you think."

Magali raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. "How is it not what I think, Brandon? You've been with so many girls…"

"They all confessed to me," Brandon interrupted gently, his tone firm but not defensive. "Not once have I confessed to anyone. Every girl I've dated, it wasn't because I chose them. It was because they chose me, and I felt… obligated to say yes."

Magali frowned, the explanation catching her off guard. "Obligated? Why would you feel obligated to date them?"

Brandon exhaled, running a hand through his brunette hair. "Because of who I am. The son of a council member. People look at me and see an opportunity—power, connections, status. Most of the girls I've dated weren't interested in me. They were interested in what I could give them. And I… I didn't want to cause trouble by rejecting them. But it was never real." He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "But you, Magali… you're different."

Magali blinked, her cheeks warming under his intense gaze. "Different how?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

"You don't want anything from me," Brandon said simply. "You don't care about my connections or my family name. You've always treated me like a normal person, not like some tool to climb the social ladder. You're the first person who's ever made me feel… seen."

Magali's heart skipped a beat, but she tried to keep her composure. "And what makes this different? Why is this any different from all the other girls you've dated?"

"Because I'm confessing to you," Brandon said, his voice steady. "I've never done that before. Not once. This isn't about obligation, or status, or expectations. This is about how I feel. You're special to me, Magali. And if you accept… I promise, it'll be different. I'll make sure it's different."

Magali bit her lip, her thoughts racing. She wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wanted to believe him, to take a leap of faith. But the other part of her, the cautious part, held her back. The idea of being with someone like Brandon—someone with so much history and attention—felt overwhelming.

"I just…" Magali began, hesitating. "I need time to think about this."

Brandon nodded, his expression softening. "Take all the time you need," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. Just… promise me you'll think about it?"

Magali nodded slowly. "I will," she said.

Brandon opened the door of his sleek black car, waiting patiently for Magali to step inside. His usual charismatic smirk was replaced with a gentle, understanding smile. Magali hesitated for a moment, still clutching the confession letter in her hands, before sliding into the car. The ride back to the crew building was quiet, with only the faint hum of the engine breaking the silence.

When they arrived at the crew building, Brandon stepped out and opened her door, offering her a hand as she stepped onto the pavement. "Take your time," he said, his voice calm but tinged with hope. "We'll talk in a few days. Until then… just think about it, okay?"

Magali nodded, her heart racing. "Okay," she said softly, avoiding his gaze as she turned toward the building. Brandon lingered for a moment, watching her walk away, before returning to his car and driving off into the afternoon light.

Inside the crew building, Magali felt the weight of the letter grow heavier in her hands. She walked into the common room, placed the letter on the table, and sat down in front of it. Her elbows rested on the polished wood as her chin fell into her hands, her wide eyes fixed on the folded paper as if it would somehow provide her with the answers she needed.

She replayed Brandon's words over and over in her head. "This is different. You're special to me." She groaned softly, feeling a knot twist tighter in her chest.

Hours passed, and the room darkened as the sun beguns to set below the horizon. Magali didn't move. She barely noticed when Conrad walked in, his steps light as he hummed a tune under his breath. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her sitting there, lost in thought.

"Mags?" he called, his voice warm with curiosity. She didn't respond.

Conrad tilted his head and walked closer, noticing the letter in front of her. "Are you writing a confession letter?" he teased lightly. "I didn't think you were the type to confess to anyone."

Magali snapped out of her daze and looked up at him, her cheeks instantly flushing. "No," she muttered, her voice soft. "It's… the opposite."

Conrad blinked in surprise, his hands slipping into his pockets as he leaned slightly over the table. "The opposite?" he echoed. "Someone confessed to you?"

Magali nodded, her expression uneasy.

"Well," Conrad said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "That's surprising. Usually, it's the girls who do the confessing around here."

Magali sighed, recalling their earlier conversation about dating dynamics in Sweet Dance City. With the city's population imbalance heavily favoring women, it was practically a norm for women to be the ones confessing to men. For a man to confess to a woman was rare—unheard of, even.

Conrad pulled out a chair across from her and sat down, his gaze shifting between her and the letter. "Whoever confessed to you must really like you," he said simply.

Magali hesitated, gripping the letter tightly in her hands. She wanted to tell Conrad about Brandon, about the heartfelt confession and everything he'd said. But she held back, unsure of how Conrad would react—or if she was even ready to talk about it.

Instead, she offered a small smile. "Yeah," she whispered, more to herself than to Conrad. "Maybe."

Conrad studied her for a moment, sensing her uncertainty. But rather than press her further, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, if you need someone to talk to about it, you know where to find me."

Magali nodded, grateful for his understanding. As Conrad got up and walked toward his room, she looked down at the letter again. She didn't know what to do, but one thing was clear—this decision would change everything.

The following day, Magali arrived at her trainee class with a cloud of thoughts swirling in her mind. As she walked into the studio, she noticed Brandon already there, stretching by the mirrored wall. For a moment, their eyes met, but he didn't say anything about the confession. Instead, he offered her a small, knowing smile and returned his focus to his warm-up. It was clear he was giving her the space she needed to process everything, a gesture that Magali appreciated but couldn't stop thinking about.

Yet, no amount of space could quiet the flurry of emotions she felt. The weight of his words, the significance of his confession—it all lingered like a soft hum at the back of her mind, distracting her at every turn. As the lesson began, Magali found herself struggling to keep up with Leilah's choreography. The usually fluid and precise movements that came so naturally to her felt stiff and awkward. She stumbled over her footing more than once, earning a few concerned glances from her classmates.

Leilah, ever sharp-eyed, clapped her hands together to get Magali's attention. "Magali, focus!" her voice rang out, stern but not unkind. "Your energy is all over the place today. What's going on?"

Magali snapped to attention, embarrassed by the sudden call-out. "Sorry miss Pikul," she mumbled, trying to shake the thoughts from her head. "I'll do better."

Brandon, standing a few feet away, glanced at her but didn't say a word. His silence, paired with his usual grace in executing the routine, only heightened her self-consciousness. She couldn't help but wonder if he was watching her every mistake, though in reality, he seemed to be doing everything in his power not to draw attention to her.

As the class wore on, the steps became faster, more demanding, and Magali's struggles only deepened. Her mind kept wandering back to Brandon's confession, replaying his heartfelt words and the way he looked at her with such sincerity. The emotional weight was throwing off her balance—both physically and mentally.

At break, Magali slumped into a corner of the studio, massaging her sore legs. Her body ached from the grueling choreography, but the fatigue on her face ran deeper than the physical strain. Brandon stepped out to get some air. Dezzie, her closest friend in the class, sat down beside her, a concerned look etched into her delicate features.

"You okay?" Dezzie asked, tilting her head as she studied Magali's unusually quiet demeanor.

Magali sighed heavily, letting her hands fall from her legs. "Not really," she admitted. "There's… something I need to tell you."

Dezzie leaned in closer, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What's going on?"

Magali hesitated, running her fingers through her hair as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she decided there was no point in keeping it to herself. "Brandon… confessed to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dezzie froze mid-breath. "What?" she exclaimed, her voice louder than Magali anticipated. She looked around, making sure thst Brandon foesnt hear them. Lowering her voice, Dezzie leaned in and whispered, "Brandon? Our Brandon? Superstar Brandon?"

Magali nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah… and he's waiting for an answer."

Dezzie blinked, clearly trying to process the information. "Wait a second. Brandon confessed to you? I mean, don't get me wrong—you're amazing—but… I've never noticed him show any interest in you before. It's just… weird. Like, why now?"

"That's what I thought too!" Magali admitted, throwing her hands up. "It just came out of nowhere. One minute we're walking to the limo after the performance, and the next thing I know, he's handing me this letter and pouring his heart out."

Dezzie leaned back, frowning as she mulled over the situation. "Okay, but… how do you feel about it? Are you going to say yes?"

Magali rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers fidgeting with the strands of her hair. "I don't know. I mean, he's… Brandon. He's kind, talented, and let's face it, he's practically perfect. But then again, he's also got this… reputation, you know? Like, all those relationships he's had? What if I end up just being another one of his exes?"

Dezzie's expression darkened slightly. "That's what I was thinking," she said, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've heard some strange rumors about him."

Magali's stomach twisted. "What kind of rumors?"

Dezzie hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the floor. "I don't know if I should say. I mean, rumors are just that—rumors. And people love to talk, especially about someone as high-profile as Brandon. But… I've heard things about why his relationships never last. Some say he ends things abruptly, others say his exes were left devastated for reasons no one really knows. And then there's…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

Magali leaned forward, her pulse quickening. "And then there's what?"

Dezzie shook her head. "I don't want to spread anything that might not be true. Look, all I know is that a lot of people talk about him, and not all of it is good. But… it could just be sour grapes. People who are jealous or bitter after a breakup, you know?"

Magali studied her friend's face, searching for any signs of exaggeration, but Dezzie's expression was a mix of uncertainty and genuine concern. Though her friend didn't have any concrete details, it was clear the rumors carried enough weight to make her uneasy.

Sitting back, Magali exhaled slowly, her mind spinning. Brandon's confession had already thrown her for a loop, but now… now she felt like she was wading into murky waters without a map. She knew she couldn't ignore the rumors entirely, not when there might be some truth to them.

Still, there was something about the way Brandon looked at her, the way he said his feelings were different with her. Was it all just an act? Or was he sincere?

Dezzie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Look, whatever you decide, just be careful, okay? If you're going to say yes, make sure it's what you really want. Don't let the rumors sway you too much, but don't ignore them either. Trust your gut."

Magali nodded slowly, appreciating her friend's honesty. "Thanks, Dezzie. I'll think about it."

As the break ended and the trainees returned to their routines, Magali couldn't shake the lingering worry in her chest. One thing was certain—before she gave Brandon her answer, she needed to learn more about the man behind the confession.

Back at the crew hsll, Magali sat at the crew's table, her head resting in her hands, her thoughts swirling with a mix of confusion and unease. Brandon's confession played on a loop in her mind, and Dessie's words lingered like a faint echo, warning her to tread carefully. Was Brandon really sincere? Or was she just the next name on a long list of fleeting romances?

Her train of thought was interrupted when Conrad walked out of his room, his usual vibrant energy lighting up the space. He was dressed in his best idol outfit—a sleek black jacket adorned with silver accents that shimmered under the light. His hair was styled to perfection, and the confident smile on his face showed he was ready to charm his fans.

"Everything okay, Mags?" he asked, his voice casual but warm, as he leaned against the table to get a better look at her.

Magali straightened up, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."

Conrad studied her for a moment, but he didn't press further. Instead, he nodded, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Alright. Well, I'm heading out to meet my fans. Shouldn't take too long. Try not to think too hard while I'm gone, okay?"

Magali nodded, managing a faint laugh. "I'll try. Good luck out there."

"Thanks! See you later," Conrad said, flashing her a grin before heading out the door.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Magali's forced composure cracked. She sighed deeply, her head falling back into her hands. Her nerves were frayed, and the only way to settle them was to get to the bottom of her growing doubts about Brandon.

Now that she had the privacy she needed, she got up and walked to the crew computer. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she logged into the Sweet Dance website. The page loaded quickly, bright colors and animated banners advertising the latest performances and events. Magali wasted no time typing in Brandon's name into the search bar.

His profile popped up almost immediately, complete with a professional photo of him in one of his performance costumes, a confident smirk on his face as he looked directly at the camera. Magali stared at the photo for a moment, her stomach twisting with uncertainty. "Alright, let's see what I can find," she muttered to herself.

At first glance, everything seemed normal. His profile listed his accomplishments, awards, and upcoming performances. The bio section talked about his passion for creative musical plays, his history of performing, and his popularity among fans. All standard stuff.

Her eyes drifted to his performance history, and she clicked on a random video to get a sense of his style. As Brandon had said, his performances were indeed elaborate musical plays. The one she watched featured him dressed as a heroic knight, singing and dancing through an epic story with dramatic flair. His co-star was a girl who played the role of a princess.

She clicked on another video, curious to see more. This time, Brandon was playing a dashing thief, his co-star a girl who acted as a rival bounty hunter. The performance was just as polished and impressive as the last.

But as she continued to browse through his videos, something unsettling began to emerge.

Each performance had a different girl performing alongside him. At first, Magali thought nothing of it. After all, many idols performed with different partners depending on the production. But then she noticed the timestamps. Each video was posted about a month apart, and each co-star seemed to be someone he was rumored to have dated.

Magali's fingers tightened on the mouse as she clicked on more videos, her heart sinking with each new discovery. It wasn't just a coincidence. Brandon had a different girl in literally every performance, and the timing lined up disturbingly well with the rumors of him having a new lover every week.

Her chest felt heavy as she leaned back in the chair, staring at the screen. She had assumed that people exaggerated when they talked about Brandon's romantic history. A new lover every week? That sounded impossible, even for someone as charming and popular as him. But this… this was hard to ignore.

Magali's fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard as she debated what to do next. Her curiosity and unease gnawed at her, urging her to dig deeper into Brandon's past. She decided to go back to the beginning, clicking on the very first video in his performance archive. The screen filled with a grainy recording of a much younger Brandon—barely fourteen years old. His face was softer, his voice slightly higher, and his confidence unmistakable, even at such a young age.

Magali remembered what he'd told her before: children born in Sweet Dance City could become idols early if they had the talent, and it was clear even back then that Brandon was destined to shine. But there was something bittersweet about seeing him that young, performing with such intensity. She watched as he sang and danced alone, clearly still building his reputation and style.

Determined to trace the timeline, she skipped ahead, scanning through his early years until she reached the videos from when he turned eighteen. That's when things took an unsettling turn.

The first partnered performance after his eighteenth birthday caught her attention. In it, Brandon was paired with a girl who was hard to ignore—long black hair cascading down her back, large expressive brown eyes, and an elegant stage presence. Her voice was enchanting, and her ballet-like grace added a touch of ethereal beauty to the performance.

Magali's heart skipped a beat. There was something hauntingly familiar about this girl. She paused the video, leaning in closer to the screen as she tried to place where she'd seen her before. The answer danced just out of reach, teasing her memory.

Then it clicked.

Magali's mind raced back to her first week in the city, to the Japanese restaurant Conrad had taken her to. She remembered the kind waitress with the quiet demeanor and graceful movements. Kelsi. It was her. There was no mistaking it.

Feeling her chest tighten, Magali left the video and returned to Brandon's profile, this time clicking on a link that led to a list of his previous romantic partners. The sheer number of names was overwhelming, scrolling endlessly like a parade of faces and stories.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled down to the earliest entries, desperate to confirm her growing suspicion. And there it was: Kelsi's name, listed as Brandon's first girlfriend.

Magali's breath hitched as she stared at the name, her mind spinning with disbelief. She recalled Conrad's words clearly now, as if he were sitting beside her again: "She retired three years ago to raise her baby as a single mother."

"It can't be," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

But the pieces fit too well to ignore. Kelsi, who quit her idol career. Kelsi, who was Brandon's first girlfriend. And Kelsi, who was now a single mother raising a child.

Magali slumped back into her chair, her mind a storm of confusion and unease. If what she feared was true, then Brandon's confession wasn't just a romantic complication—it was tied to a much bigger, messier web of secrets. She didn't know if she could untangle them, but one thing was certain: her decision just became infinitely more complicated.

Magali inhaled deeply, holding the air in her lungs as if it could tether her to some sense of normalcy. Her chest rose and fell slowly as she exhaled, attempting to calm the nerves that had begun to spiral out of control. Her gaze shifted back to the computer screen, where the list of Brandon's former lovers stared back at her like a taunting specter. She should stop. She needed to stop. And yet, her fingers hesitated over the mouse.

That's when she noticed the link to the comments section.

Conrad's voice echoed in her mind. "Stay out of the comments, Mags. They're a breeding ground for negativity. You won't find anything good there—just bitter fans and idols with chips on their shoulders." It was sound advice. The comments were infamous for being ruthless, and if Brandon had as many ex-girlfriends as people claimed, there was bound to be some venom in there.

But Magali couldn't help herself. She rationalized the decision, convincing herself that there might be something useful hidden in the chaos—some insight, some truth she couldn't find elsewhere. And before she could talk herself out of it, she clicked the link.

The comments loaded in an instant, and Magali's breath hitched as her eyes scanned the screen. She had braced herself for negativity, but what she found was far worse than anything she had imagined.

"He is a monster!"

"Don't let his pretty face fool you. He's sweet on the outside but rotten in the middle."

"He messed me up so badly I needed therapy after dealing with him."

Each comment landed like a blow, making Magali's pulse quicken and her palms clammy. Her stomach churned as the words blurred together in her mind, each accusation adding more weight to the storm of doubt brewing within her.

But the comment that sent a chill down her spine—the one that made her freeze in place—was written in bold, capital letters as if the person behind it was screaming for someone to listen:

"WHY DOESN'T THE COUNCIL DO SOMETHING ABOUT HIM? HE IS PURE EVIL!"

Magali stared at the words, her body rigid and her fingers gripping the sides of the desk. Her mind raced, trying to process the sheer vitriol contained in these comments. "Pure evil? What had Brandon done to warrant such hatred?"

Magali's heart sank further as she scrolled through the avalanche of painful testimonies. These weren't just petty jabs or the bitter rantings of envious fans; they were raw, unfiltered accounts from people who had been deeply hurt, their emotions bleeding into the words on the screen. It was clear that this comments section was their only outlet, the only place where they could voice their anguish without fear of being silenced. But Magali realized with growing unease that their cries for accountability had gone unheard, buried beneath the weight of Brandon's reputation and the Council's influence. The city seemed to protect its idols, especially those with Brandon's prestige, turning a blind eye to the fallout left in his wake. Here, in this neglected corner of the internet, their voices were relegated to rumors and dismissed as mere noise, echoes of a truth no one dared to confront.

The day Magali had been dreading finally arrived. She was supposed to meet Brandon to give him her answer, and he had chosen a secluded corner of the park where no one could see or hear them. While he framed it as a romantic gesture—offering them privacy for a heartfelt conversation—Magali couldn't ignore the unease that churned in her gut. This wasn't just about intimacy; it was about control. Here, away from the public eye, Brandon could act freely, and Magali would have no one to turn to if things went wrong.

As they stood under the shade of the trees, Brandon leaned in, his charming smile in place, and softly asked, "So, Magali, what's your answer?"

Magali took a deep breath, her hands fidgeting nervously. "Brandon," she began, her voice steady but firm. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept your confession. I'm not interested in dating anyone right now, and I want to focus on my idol career."

For a moment, Brandon's smile didn't falter. He nodded, his expression warm and understanding. "I see," he said softly, his tone kind and considerate.

Magali let out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful that he seemed to be taking it well. She managed a small smile of her own and said, "Thank you for understanding," before turning to leave.

But before she could take more than a step, Brandon's hand shot out and grabbed her arm. The grip was tight—too tight. Magali winced, her heart racing as she felt the strength in his hold. She tried to pull away, but he didn't let go.

"Are you sure about this?" Brandon asked, his tone still calm but tinged with an unsettling edge. There was a sharpness in his voice now, an intensity that sent a chill through Magali. "Maybe you should reconsider your decision. We could be great together."

"Let me go!" Magali shouted, her voice trembling as she tried to yank her arm free. "You're hurting me!"

The tension in the air snapped like a taut wire as Magali, desperate and furious, turned back and slapped him across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the quiet park, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Brandon's grip loosened instantly, and Magali stumbled back, cradling her sore arm as she glared at him with wide, furious eyes.

Magali barely had time to react as Brandon's hand lashed out, striking her with a force that knocked her to the ground. Her breath hitched as the sharp sting radiated across her cheek, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the fear that began to creep into her chest. Trembling, she slowly pushed herself up, her wide, disbelieving eyes fixed on him.

The Brandon she had once admired—the polished, charming idol who commanded the stage with elegance and grace—was gone. What stood before her now was someone entirely different. His face was twisted with cold arrogance, the perfect mask finally shattered to reveal his true nature.

"How dare you," Magali hissed through gritted teeth, trying to steady her voice despite the terror bubbling up inside her. "Wait until the council hears about this. They'll know what you've done."

But Brandon's confidence didn't falter for a moment. He didn't look scared, remorseful, or even slightly concerned. Instead, he tilted his head with a faint smirk, placing a hand casually on his hip. "Go ahead," he said coolly, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Tell them. Do you know what's going to happen? You're the one who's going to be evicted from the city."

Magali froze, her heart skipping a beat as her mind scrambled to process his words. "What… what does that mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brandon's smirk widened. "You struck me first," he said simply, the smugness in his tone making her blood run cold. "I was just defending myself."

Her stomach dropped. She gasped as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten one of the fundamental rules of Sweet Dance City—the strict no-violence policy. She had been warned by Conrad when she first arrived that raising a hand to anyone, especially someone with Brandon's influence, could lead to expulsion from the city. And now, Brandon was using that rule against her.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's not what happened. You grabbed me—you wouldn't let go—"

Brandon leaned in slightly, towering over her like a predator savoring its prey. "Do you really think anyone is going to believe you?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with menace. "I'm the city's golden boy, Magali. You? You're just a nobody who hasn't even made her mark yet. One word from me, and you're gone. Out of the city, out of your idol dreams, out of everything. Just think about that."

Magali's fists clenched at her sides, her body trembling with equal parts fear and fury. She wanted to scream at him, to stand up to him, but the weight of his words crushed her resolve. He was right—his status and influence meant he could twist the narrative however he wanted. And she would have no way to fight back.

Brandon straightened and took a step back, brushing imaginary dust off his pristine shirt as if the confrontation had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "I'll let this slide this one time," he said, his tone almost dismissive, as though he were granting her a favor. "But don't expect it to happen again. I'll give you another week to change your mind and accept my confession. You can thank me later." He gave her one last smug glance before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving her alone.

As his figure disappeared into the distance, Magali collapsed to her knees, her breathing uneven as tears stung her eyes. The weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders like an unbearable burden. For the first time since she arrived in Sweet Dance City, she wasn't just overwhelmed—she was afraid. Truly afraid. Brandon's words echoed in her mind, and she knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that the man she was dealing with was far more dangerous than she ever imagined.