They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System

Chapter 385: The Performance of a Lifetime

Abuchi moved, not with the awkwardness of someone trying to impress, but with the fluid command of someone

who owned the very stage he stood on. His dance wasn’t flashy, but every motion was deliberate, sharp, clean.

Art.

His outfit shimmered under the lights, a tailored fusion of royal and modern, flowing like liquid metal with each

step. The symbol of Lionara etched over his chest sparkled each the turned.

His voice rose again:

[0”Not for gold, not for throne, not for fame,

But for hearts that dared whisper my name.

| rise not alone, but with every cry,

That dared to dream beneath this sky.”[]

The hall erupted.

People gasped, clapped, cried out softly. Guests who had been stiff and formal were now gripping their seats,

leaning forward, unable to blink.

Sstood.

Obinna’s jaw dropped. He actually forgot to breathe. “That's my brother...” he muttered, blinking fast. “He’s—

he’s actually...”

Nnenna covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide, glimmering.

Queen Chioma?

She was beyond shocked.

When Abuchi first started chasing music in junior high, she had been one of the first to shut it down. So had King

Ikechukwu, Obinna, Ebere... almost the entire royal family. No one thought it was a path worth walking.

Except Somto.

He had quietly encouraged him, despite the backlash.

And of course, no one even thought to ask for Nnenna’s opinion.

Chidera was far too young to understand anything at the time.

To the rest of the family, Abuchi’s dream was just that, a foolish, childish dream.

What did a boy barely in his teens know about the brutal industry? He would crash. Burn. Suffer without their

help.

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And so, they made sure he did.

When Abuchi insisted on juggling music with his academics, not a single one of them gave him support. Not

emotionally. Not financially. Not even a whisper of encouragement behind closed doors.

Where he was now, on that glittering, thunderous stage, was all him.

Him... and maybe whatever invisible power had pulled him through. God? Luck?

They didn’t know. They hadn't asked.

Back then, he had been just another hopeful face with no background, no protection. A soft target in a sea of

sharks. Those early artists who noticed his raw potential?

Most of them hadn't tried to uplift him.

They tried to cripple him.

Queen Chioma remembered.

She and her late husband had watched it all unfold from behind palace walls, Abuchi’s grind, his little wins, his

battles, his losses. They monitored it all.

And still agreed: No help.

Let him walk the fire alone.

And yet, somehow, he made it.

From back alley open mics to small cameo roles in forgettable films, he sang his heart out, played every stage he

could find, until finally

He struck gold.

One last song. One final desperate track he had written in the dark, planning it to be his farewell to the world.

That song...

They still said it could resurrect any dead hope.

It turned him into a storm.

When his fexploded, the family had no choice. They revealed his identity, the third prince of Lionara. And

the internet?

It broke.

The day the royal banner was attached to his name, the world lost its breath. The guilt. The regret.

The panicked apologies from those who had laughed, mocked, sabotaged him.

But by then, Abuchi had already ascended too far for any of them to reach.

He didn’t even look back.

And now, now, they were seeing it again. This tnot on their phone screens, or filtered through TV interviews.

Up close.

Undeniable.

They sat in stunned silence, watching with quiet, dignified awe.

Her son.

His brother.

Their brother.

Commanding a room full of monarchs, billionaires, and legends...

With a single song.

Online?

It broke.

@MidnightDreamer: “SOMEONE CHECK ON WHITE NIGHT. | WOULD BE SICK TOO.”

@Starwatch88: “I cfor Somto. | stayed for Abuchi. | might never leave.”

@RoyalStagePulse: “This is better than White Night's concert. Yeah, | said it.”

@FanCalledTruth: “That wasn’t a performance. That was a spiritual awakening.”

Even White Night, watching from his VIP seat, clenched his jaw. His polished calm cracked for a second. “They

gave him that stage?” he muttered to his assistant.

Beside him, a smaller tpop idol shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know he was this good.”

“You weren't supposed to,” White Night said under his breath.

Meanwhile, the livestreamers were in chaos.

People called family members, dragged roommates from the kitchen, threw aside dinner plates.

“Grandma, you have to see this. He’s like a prince from a dream!”

“I was going to sleep, wait what is THIS?!”

“Turn it up. No, louder. | need my neighbors to hear this too.”

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The final verse rang out

[0"From silence | came, with light | depart,

With fire in my voice, and a kingdom in heart.

Long live the storm, long live the flame,

Long live the crown that dares to change.”

And when it ended

Thunderous applause.

No one moved at first. Just shock. Then wave after wave of cheering, stomping, clapping, whistling. A few people

even wept. Not from sadness, but from how deeply the performance touched something within.

Somto just smiled slightly from the throne. No surprise on his face.

That was Abuchi, after all.

His brother. A storm.

He was glad he supported that young boy’s dream. The young boy was now a man and he never disappointed.

The hall shook with cheers.

“PRINCE ABUCHI! PRINCE ABUCHIIII!!”

“Third Prince for the WIN!!"

“I'm in TEARS! Actual tears!”

“I need to rewatch this a thousand times, no, a million!”

“I knew he was good, but this? This was legendary.”

Online, the livestream’s chat section was flooded with exploding heart emojis, digital fireworks, fanmade gifs,

and spontaneous artwork. People were still uploading reaction videos while watching live.

#PrincePerformer

#AbuchiCrownedHeartsBeforeTheThrone

#SomtoRoyalConcert

Trending worldwide in minutes.

Back in the hall, the energy was warm and proud. Queen Chioma dabbed the corner of her eyes discreetly, and

even stern faced military leaders had softened expressions.