It was as if someone had pressed the pause button.
The clamor of the street abruptly ceased, vanishing in an instant.
Silence.
Deathly silence.
Everyone widened their eyes and opened their mouths, staring dumbfounded at the young man who had suddenly appeared on the flower float—and at the musician he had casually slapped into a pile of meat paste.
The scene had changed too quickly.
So quickly that everyone found it difficult to understand what had just happened.
Confusion filled every person's eyes.
What was going on?
Was this an act?
How had the musician turned into a lump of flesh?
Only after several seconds—
"Whoosh!"
The uproar around them surged forth like a landslide and tsunami.
"He's dead?!"
"The musician is dead?"
"How is that possible? What did I just see? That young man killed the musician with one slap?"
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Was that an illusion?"
"I'll try it... Smack!"
"Ow... Why the hell did you hit me?!"
"I wanted to see if I was dreaming."
"Then why did you hit me in the face?"
"I was afraid it would hurt."
No one had expected that the "musician," who had still been so full of confidence just moments ago—or at least seemed that way to them—would suddenly be beaten to death in the blink of an eye.
Shouts of alarm.
Voices of discussion.
Cries of terror.
The noisy commotion instantly drowned out the street.
At the same time—
The onlookers who sensed that something was wrong had already begun frantically retreating and fleeing the area.
"Disaster!"
"A huge disaster!"
"The musician is dead! The sky is going to fall!"
"Run!"
You had to be kidding!
The protagonist was dead, and they still wanted to watch the show?
More importantly—
The musician had come out to gain