“Call Harry arrogant all you want, but the guy’s got the skills to back it up. If you want to shut him up, beat him at his own game and rub his nose in it.
Otherwise? Keep your head down and accept it. If a genius gets cocky, can you really blame them?”
“Exactly! If I were that talented, I’d be boasting too!”
The crowd buzzed with mixed opinions about Harry. Some admired him, some resented his attitude, but nobody questioned his talent. And not a single person thought Stella stood a chance against him.
Antoney leaned in and whispered, “Star, don’t do it. The bet’s already settled—you kept your end of the bargain.”
Harry caught the tension and shot Stella a mocking grin. “What’s wrong, Stella? Didn’t you say you wanted to avenge your mom and your mentor? Getting cold feet now?”
He sneered, “You clearly don’t have half the courage your mother did. No wonder you’re still just a rookie.”
Antoney’s eyes flashed. “You’re supposed to be her senior, from my mentor’s generation, and you’re challenging a newcomer? Aren’t you the least bit ashamed?”
Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, Mr. Watson, don’t be so naive. Music doesn’t care about borders—or about age. Plenty of veterans have challenged me, and I never backed down just because they’d been around longer.”
He paused, letting that sink in.
“Only those who lack the skills always look for excuses.”
Antoney opened his mouth to argue, but Stella stopped him with a gentle touch.
She looked straight at Harry. “This is between you and me. There’s no need to drag anyone else into it, is there?”
Harry blinked, caught off guard by her words.
“You want to take me on alone?” he said, almost incredulous. “If you and Antoney teamed up, you might actually have a shot—especially since someone on my side is just dead weight. But on your own? You really think you can beat me?”
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