Rewind With A Superstar System-Chapter 55: Zack’s Plan

<🎧 Song Recommendation: Holy Grail by Jay Z ft Justin Timberlake>

...

Von was still startled from being woken up as Zack’s words slowly registered in his brain. The sudden intrusion of energy into the quiet dorm room was jarring, but the content of Zack’s sentence cut through the drowsiness instantly.

"You mean... you’ve found a solution for the case?" Von asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with expectation.

"Yeah... Kinda," Zack replied. He dropped his heavy bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed opposite Von, taking a moment to adjust his glasses. "You see, Midnight Pulse is actually a small band. In fact, they’re tiny. I spent the morning digging into their analytics. They only have about ten thousand monthly listeners on Musify and their hit song hasn’t even cracked a hundred thousand streams. They play local bars in Miami, mostly on Tuesday nights."

Von, naturally, had looked up that data the moment he got the threatening email, so he didn’t really see how it changed the legal reality. Being small didn’t mean they couldn’t sue. If anything, it made them more desperate for a payout.

"Okay, so they’re small," Von said, running a hand through his messy hair. "And? That doesn’t mean the copyright laws don’t apply to them."

"Shush and let me finish," Zack said with a proud, confident smirk before continuing. "So, my point was, lawsuits are expensive. It would cost them thousands of dollars just to file the initial paperwork in federal court, let alone pay a retainer for a lawyer to handle months of litigation. If they lose, and we countersue, they’ll be in debt for the rest of their lives."

Zack leaned forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Think about the optics, Von. You’re a finalist on Project: Star. A lawsuit against you would be huge news. It’s scary for us, sure, but it also means you’re a high-value target. If we countersue for defamation and tortious interference, arguing that their frivolous lawsuit cost you the million-dollar prize... that’s a potential liability of millions of dollars hanging over their heads. They can’t afford that risk."

"But I can’t afford to sue them either," Von pointed out admist the jargon he made out.

"They don’t know that," Zack grinned. "The show never portrayed you as a broke student. The public perception is that you are already successful. This gives us a massive bluffing advantage. In the legal world, whoever looks like they have the deeper pockets usually scares the other side into submission."

Von took some time to process what Zack was saying. His expression shifted from confusion to impressed realization. It was a cold, calculated move,using his perceived status to bully a smaller opponent who was technically right. It felt dirty, but it was survival. However, eventually, he struck a logical wall.

"But how does this help me right now? What if they sue regardless? What if they’re crazy enough to think they’re right and don’t care about the cost?"

Zack smiled and shook his head. "No, the goal is to convince them not to sue. We kill the case before it ever sees a judge. I’ve contacted them already... It took a lot of effort and, ahem, some creative impersonations... but I got the job done."

"Turns out, the thirty second demo they sent out for the song is literally all they have come up with."

"Wow," Von breathed out, his eyes widening. He could already see where this was going.

"Exactly," Zack nodded, snapping his fingers. "Somehow, you, the alleged song thief, have a full version. You have a bridge. You have a second verse. You have a complete arrangement. Doesn’t that make their claim look ridiculous? How could you steal a whole song from a band that only wrote a third of it?"

"So we can just show them my more complete and better version to convince them it really belongs to me, making the case pointless?" Von asked, the pieces falling into place.

"Precisely," Zack said. "I’ve arranged a settlement meeting with their band leader and their lawyer. Luckily for us, they’re based right here in Miami. We’re meeting them at The Onyx Lounge tomorrow at 6:00 PM."

"Wait, what?" Von nearly coughed at the absurdity. "How did you manage to set that up so fast?"

Zack quickly waved his hand dismissively and winked, leaning back on the bed. "I don’t question your secrets, superstar. Leave mine with me."

Von didn’t even care about finding out the details. The relief washing over him was immense. He stood up from his chair and walked over, pulling Zack into a tight, brotherly hug. "Thanks, bro. You’re amazing. Seriously, I don’t know what I would do without you."

Zack pushed him away gently, laughing but looking pleased. "Don’t thank me yet. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. If this goes wrong, we’re both getting sued into the stone age."

Von didn’t accept the rejection. "You know what? I’m gonna cook tonight! You deserve a feast."

Zack raised an eyebrow, "You can cook? Since when?"

"You’ll see, you’ll see," Von whispered with a mysterious grin as he turned and walked toward the small kitchenette attached to their dorm suite.

If he was being real, Von had never cooked a decent meal in his life. His culinary history consisted of instant noodles or boiled eggs. But this time was different. He had seen an unexpected skill in the System Shop weeks ago, and he had saved it just in case. It turns out, his time had come.

Von pulled up the blue holographic interface that only he could see.

[System Shop]

● Skill: Master Chef (Grade A)

● Cost: 200 EXP

● Description: Food is life, and a Superstar must be a person of culture! Whether you need to impress a date, play a chef in a movie, or just avoid food poisoning from your own cooking, this skill has your back! Implants the muscle memory and palate of a Michelin-star sous chef.

Von hesitated for a fraction of a second, 200 EXP was something , especially when he needed to save for his stats, but he looked back at Zack, who was already buried in law textbooks trying to save Von’s career. It was worth it. It wasn’t even expensive when compared to other skills.

He tapped [Purchase].

A small, purple, grape-like orb materialized in his palm, invisible to Zack. Von threw it into his mouth and chewed. It dissolved instantly, tasting like saffron and truffle oil.

All of a sudden, a flood of information rushed into his brain. Knife techniques, flavor profiles, heat control, plating aesthetics, the chemistry of emulsification, it all settled into his mind as if he’d been cooking for decades. His hands felt different, lighter, more precise.

"I’m going to the store," Von announced. "Be right back."

An hour later, the small dorm room didn’t smell like old textbooks and laundry anymore. It smelled like a five-star restaurant.

Von moved around the cramped kitchenette with the grace of a dancer. He chopped vegetables with a terrifyingly fast rhythm that made Zack look up from his books in alarm. He managed the heat on the electric burner perfectly, searing two cuts of sea bass he had miraculously found on sale.

"Dinner is served," Von announced, placing two plates on the desk.

Zack stared. It was Pan-Seared Sea Bass with a lemon-butter reduction, sitting on a bed of roasted asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. The presentation was impeccable, garnished with fresh herbs.

"Who are you and what have you done with Von?" Zack asked, picking up his fork suspiciously.

He took a bite. His eyes went wide. He chewed slowly, then took another bite, faster this time.

"Dude," Zack mumbled with his mouth full. "This is insane. Why are you studying Psychology? Why are you singing? You should be opening a restaurant."

Von just smiled, eating his own portion with satisfaction. The skill was Grade A for a reason. That night, amidst the stress of lawsuits and a finale, the two friends feasted like kings.

***

(The Onyx Lounge - 6:00 PM)

The next evening, the atmosphere was entirely different.

The Onyx Lounge was a sleek, dimly lit establishment known for its privacy and high-end clientele. It was the kind of place where business deals were made in hushed tones over twenty-dollar cocktails.

Von and Zack walked in exactly on time. Von had spent ten minutes agonizing over his outfit before settling on a look that screamed effortless celebrity. He wore a crisp white t-shirt, a high-quality denim jacket, and dark jeans. He looked relaxed, cool, and confident.

Zack, however, was a total transformation.

He was wearing a full charcoal-grey suit that fit him surprisingly well, a crisp blue tie, and polished shoes. His hair was gelled back neatly, and he carried a leather briefcase.

Coupled with his wire-rimmed glasses, it could be said he was dressed to impress, or intimidate. He didn’t look like a student; he looked like a junior associate at a major firm.

Von eyed him as they walked through the glass doors and whistled low. "You really went all out there, bro. You look like you charge five hundred an hour."

"Yup," Zack said, adjusting his cuffs with a serious expression. "They can’t take me seriously if I’m not looking the part. Perception is reality in law, Von. If I look like a kid, they’ll treat me like one." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

They walked over to a table near the back that had been reserved for them. It was secluded, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. They took their seats, the leather crunching softly beneath them.

Von checked his phone. It was 6:05 PM.

"It’s past time already," Von noted, drumming his fingers on the table. "Why aren’t they here?"

"It’s probably a cheap trick," Zack muttered, checking his watch with a disgusted look. He wasn’t fond of lateness. "Lawyers love to make you wait. It’s a power play to assert dominance before the negotiation even starts. But they’ll be here."

Unfortunately, the "power play" lasted longer than expected. They had to wait for over thirty minutes. Von ordered a water (the only thing he could afford), sipping it slowly to keep his nerves in check, while Zack sat rigid, reviewing documents in his briefcase.

Finally, the entrance door opened.

Two figures walked in. One was a man in his fifties wearing an ill-fitting brown suit that looked like it had seen better days. He was carrying a worn leather satchel and wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. This was clearly Mr. Arthur Finch.

Beside him was a younger guy in his twenties with messy, dyed-black hair, a lip ring, and a sullen expression. He wore a band t-shirt under a blazer, looking like every indie band frontman Von had ever seen.

They scanned the room, spotted Zack, and approached the table.

The older man checked his watch, looking flustered rather than dominant. "Apologies for our... tardiness. The traffic on the I-95 was... unexpectedly dense today."

Zack stood up smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket with a practiced motion. He didn’t smile.

"It’s alright, Mr. Finch," Zack said, his voice calm and controlling the room immediately. "Opportunity delayed is not denied. Or as they say, better late than never."

Arthur’s hand met Zack’s outstretched hand, and their eyes crossed. The older lawyer seemed to struggle to reconcile the voice he had heard on the phone with the young face before him. But the suit, the briefcase, and the icy demeanor made him hesitate.

"Mr. Zachary Tuna, I believe?" Arthur asked, squinting slightly.

"Yes, that’s me," Zack said firmly, releasing the handshake and gesturing to the empty seats.

"And this is my client, Mr. Von Varley. Let’s get down to business."