Reset Life with Infinite Talents - Chapter 167
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Infinite Talent Reset Life Episode 167
“Again!”
Larry explodes in anger.
Andrew Pearson smiles bitterly, and Steven Tyler clicks his tongue.
“It’s started again this year.”
The Grammy’s antics.
‘Antics?’
At Steven Tyler’s words, Johann looks at the audience seats with name tags.
“…This is an interesting place. The Grammys.”
Sam Smith, Iggy Azalea, Johann Jefferson, Haim, Bastille.
All artists nominated for Best New Artist, those who achieved decent results this year, their names filling an entire row of the audience.
‘Whoever wins, they’re trying to capture those who don’t win in the same angle.’
Being human, there would be those who couldn’t hide their momentary emotions and would reveal them.
It couldn’t help but feel like a malicious arrangement.
“…Wait! I’m going to go protest!”
Robin Joel and Bruno Mars had been seated this way too.
This was already the third time.
He couldn’t contain his anger then either, but this time the target was his son Johann, so Larry couldn’t contain his fury even more.
“Hey, you there!”
When Larry and Andrew Pearson spotted a staff member and approached angrily, Steven Tyler and the Aerosmith members tapped Johann and pointed in the direction they came from.
“Well then, let’s go, maestro!”
“Bro! Why are you here! Come quickly!”
Will.i.am and the Black Eyed Peas members who hurriedly approached also grabbed Johann’s wrist and turned toward the direction Steven Tyler’s group had pointed.
“Where to?”
“To take photos!”
“To build friendships!”
With artists who wanted Johann, and whom Johann wanted.
The place was a small, cramped colosseum created by the Grammy Awards.
‘Oh ho?’
Johann’s eyes lit up as he followed them.
* * *
The colosseum was a wide corridor just before entering the arena.
“Cheese!”
Click!
Singers taking photos while hugging each other or putting arms around shoulders.
“Oh, my God!”
Two nerdy-looking men cover their mouths like young girls upon seeing Steven Tyler and the Aerosmith members.
They chuckle and gesture for them to come over.
The two bounce over excitedly, taking off their jackets and offering pens.
Shirts already signed by various stars.
“Your names?”
“Dan Auer Back!”
“Patrick Carney! Together we’re The Black Keys!”
“Ah, you’re the guys who do blues rock.”
“You, you know us?”
“Most rock groups.”
They were precious juniors who would carry on the spirit of rock to future generations.
“My God!”
Aerosmith smiles proudly at the sight of the two who look ready to cry. It seems the path they’ve walked wasn’t wrong.
“Hey, hey, hey. Old folks shouldn’t tease the young ones.”
“U, U2!”
“You know us too?”
“Co, Coldplay?!”
Starting with them, rock groups participating in the Grammys gather one after another.
The Black Keys look ready to die of happiness.
“Say hello. This is our guest pianist and America’s representative teenage pianist, Sophia Salonen.”
“Oh! Nice to meet you, miss.”
“I’m Sophia Salonen. Contact me if you need a piano player.”
“Oh! Hahaha!”
Everyone smiles warmly at her bold introduction.
Steven Tyler chuckles and points to Johann.
“You all know who this is without introduction, right?”
People’s expressions change completely. They extend their hands with serious eyes.
“…It’s an honor to meet the pioneer who showed us that rock still has new paths. I’m Bono from U2.”
“It’s an honor to meet the king… I’m Johann Jefferson.”
One of the greatest and most influential bands in popular music history, Ireland’s rock group U2, whose influence rivals that of a nation’s president.
The warmth transmitted from those thick hands shakes his heart.
‘He’s a big person.’
The scent of a well-fed predator wafts strongly.
A feeling that he’d be devoured if he approached without proper preparation.
There’s no reason to approach, but his presence is so enormous it’s tension-inducing just to face him.
“Coldplay. Chris Martin. You don’t know how much I wanted to meet you.”
He’d heard from Joe Walsh and Jimmy Page.
That the person who united two legends was the 11-year-old boy standing before him.
The real composer of WE GO and STAR, Johann Jefferson.
“Me too.”
The rock group that announced rock was still alive with songs like Viva la Vida when rock was fading, continuing the flame of rock that U2 revived with Beautiful Day.
“We can’t share all those stories today… Could I ask for your contact information?”
“Of course. Naturally.”
“Oh? Then me too.”
“Would you accept contact from an old man like me?”
“It’s all an honor.”
People who spread and introduced the genre of rock to this earth.
Legends who dominated an era.
It could only be an honor.
The Black Keys looked at Johann enviously, and after exchanging contacts with the rock legends, Johann follows Will.i.am.
“Hey, Kendrick!”
“Will!”
‘…Wow.’
Kendrick Lamar, one of the representative rappers of West Coast hip-hop leading the conversation, and Eminem standing leisurely beside him in a plain t-shirt and pressed-down cap.
Next to them stands Rihanna, whose very laughter stimulates the ears.
It’s not just them.
Not far from them, East Coast legends like master Jay-Z and Drake, diva Beyoncé are blooming with laughter while being conscious of this side.
‘This is the Grammys…?’
Every singer that catches the eye is someone an ordinary person would want to meet at least once in their lifetime.
Their conversations, their voices stimulate the ears and touch upon fragments of inspiration left by masters.
‘How big would these people’s orbs be?’
He wants to access the Library to check, but decides against it. He could feel their attention shifting toward him.
“Hey, kid. I heard you can rap?”
Looking down, he sees Kendrick Lamar wearing his characteristic cute smile.
However, deep in his eyes lies a cold expectation. He’s sizing him up.
‘Is he trying to test my guts?’
A snicker escapes him.
“I’m not bad at it.”
“What? Pffft!”
“Puhahahaha!”
“…Ahahahaha!”
As their lips twist and straighten, about to quiver emptily, Johann speaks first.
“Could I ask for a photo? I want to see my friends go crazy.”
“Oh-. You don’t need one yourself?”
“I’ll probably get to work with you someday, so there’s no need…”
Honestly, perhaps because of ‘2PAC, Tupac Amaru Shakur’s’ memories, he feels less moved than he did with U2.
The feeling of familiarity is stronger, so joke-like words naturally come out.
“Puhahahaha!”
Even the taciturn Eminem holds his stomach laughing at the 17-year-old boy’s boldness.
“Come here, kid.”
Eminem pulls Johann’s shoulder close and raises his phone.
After taking photos with them, Johann looks at Will.i.am.
“I’ll just go to the restroom for a moment.”
He can’t resist the urge he’s been feeling.
“Oh. Want me to come with you, bro?”
“You should have been my friend.”
“Uhaha!”
Johann shakes his head, turns around, and heads to the restroom, closing his eyes. He accesses the Library.
“As expected…”
They’re huge.
Colorful orbs, each much larger than a person’s head.
Among them, Eminem and Jay-Z are slightly larger than the current Bruno Mars.
That’s why it’s amazing. What they’ve accomplished over twenty years is so tremendous it can’t be expressed in a few words.
“Should I say Bruno Mars’s talent is remarkable…”
Johann waves his hand to rotate the orbs.
Then, like planets orbiting the sun, the orbs slowly revolve around Johann.
“No matter when I see it, it’s too beautiful a sight to keep to myself.”
In this universe where the endless Galactic River flows and countless celestial bodies float in the sky, orbs revolving around him, emitting light as they beg to be read.
This mystical scene is spectacular enough to draw gasps every time.
‘What would it be like if other legends were added here?’
Suddenly curious, Johann searches for those who aren’t attending the Grammy Awards or have passed away.
And…
“Pfft!”
Twitch twitch!
One orb that seems happy to see Eminem and sticks close to his side.
“If this person were still alive, he would have been much bigger than now.”
He might have been incomparably larger than Eminem, Jay-Z, or Bruno Mars.
[2PAC, Tupac Amaru Shakur]
As if asking to be read quickly, it shines more brilliantly than before, and Johann shrugs his shoulders and reaches out his hand.
‘I don’t know what you’re planning, but let’s try it.’
If it shows signs of going out of control, he can suppress it then.
The moment he pushes the orb into his chest, emotions surge.
‘2PAC, Tupac Amaru Shakur’ pushes away ‘The One Who Became a Star’ and sneers cynically.
At the same time, the scenes he just witnessed flash through his mind.
The East Coast laughing even louder, as if not to lose to the West Coast bursting with laughter.
Their pretentious appearances, almost desperately trying to dismiss Johann as just some successful 17-year-old boy.
Seeing their unchanged nature, he finally clearly understands what Steven Tyler meant by proven beasts.
And the word Colosseum too.
‘How should I put it… It’s childish.’
The way they fight and show off, claiming they’re the best, is just like children’s quarrels. No, like beasts with only instincts.
Johann snickers again.
“This is Tupac’s emotion.”
If they’re beasts, this is naturally how they should be.
A world where you get devoured the moment you’re underestimated.
Even this childish behavior is a strategy and instinct to avoid having their throats torn out.
Separate from Johann’s thoughts, inspiration explodes. Inspiration incomparably greater than during the Black Eyed Peas concert.
The jungle found again.
The beasts still there.
‘Words for fools.’
“Hello, friend. You didn’t cry after I left, did you?”
You wouldn’t have.
You’d hold back tears and put on a pathetic act of bravado.
‘A letter for a friend who always called himself an eternal fan.’
Johann quietly savored the inspiration exploding in his mind.
* * *
“Did I mention?”
‘So noisy.’
Kanye West internally shakes his head at Iggy Azalea’s shrill voice piercing his ears. If his wife hadn’t liked her, he wouldn’t have even made eye contact with this woman.
‘Just how long is she planning to follow me around?’
His wife really has a talent. She’s skilled enough to not only win over a woman she met for the first time today, but to attach her as her husband’s monitor.
“Are you planning to follow me to the restroom too?”
“Oh, sorry! I…”
“Wait.”
Kanye West raises his finger and turns his head toward the restroom.
‘What’s this?’
Sonic violence pierces his tilted ear.
Explosive rap bursting from inside the restroom.
A shock like ice picks being driven into every joint from his spine to the top of his head shakes even his soul.
“My, my God.”
It’s impossible. This can’t be happening.
‘He can’t be alive! Right! Even the voice is different-!’
But it was him. It was him.
It was that person he could never forget.
“West?!”
Kanye rushes into the restroom.
And freezes.
“Where should I start explaining… Huh?”
Johann looks puzzled.
Kanye West bursts in, pale as if being chased by ghosts.
“…Johann Jefferson?”
“Oh…”
Despite being from completely different genres, he recognized him instantly.
Eminem and the others would have known because of Will.i.am, but Kanye West was from a completely different hip-hop scene.
His chest swells with pride again.
“That rap just now… did you perform it?”
“Huh? Yeah, why?”
“…Ha! Ha!”
Kanye’s eyes burn hot as he lets out a hollow laugh toward the ceiling.
“Hey, Jefferson. Do you happen to like parties?”
“What kind of party…”
“Wouldn’t my party be a bit more fun than that party?”
A sharp voice suddenly interrupts along with a familiar strong scent.
Johann spots a woman leaning against the door and looks around wondering if there are cameras, while Kanye’s expression hardens.
“Ms. Donna.”
Madonna.
Queen of Pop. The Queen. A great performer.
She was staring at Kanye with indifferent yet sharp eyes.
‘This scent…’
He had smelled it before.
It wasn’t perfume.
It was an aura emanating from her entire body, the scent of a predator.
‘A lion.’
Usually lazy and relaxed, but once it stands up, a predator that makes the earth hold its breath.
That was exactly the scent.
‘But why is she looking at Kanye West like that…’
Then Madonna turned her gaze to look at Johann.
“Hello, kid? Oh, you’re not offended by being called kid, are you?”
She had followed out of curiosity after seeing Kanye’s urgent behavior.
Thanks to that, she witnessed a rare scene. The scene of that Kanye West actively courting someone.
‘So he has talent not just in rock but also in rap? If that’s the case?’
Her lips curl into a smile.
“How about trying your hand at pop?”
“What?”
“W-wait a minute-!”
Suddenly two women enter.
“I was going to say it first!”
“That’s right! That’s unfair!”
“These little brats?!”
‘What’s going on?’
Johann blinks in confusion.
Madonna’s appearance was already surprising, but now Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift are having a staring contest with that Madonna.
In front of the men’s bathroom.
While urging him to take on new challenges.
“Uh. Could you please form a line?”
Johann wondered what on earth was happening.
* * *
“Pfft!”
“So…?”
Andrew Pearson spits out the drink he was sipping, and Larry urges him to continue.
“I just got their contact information for now.”
They seemed to feel awkward about doing that in the men’s bathroom, so they left saying they’d see him next time.
And Kanye West also went into a stall, so the party talk fizzled out too.
Flinch!
“Really? Are you going to go if you get invited again?”
‘Huh? Why does he seem reluctant?’
Regardless of his puzzlement, his lips give an answer.
“Not really.”
‘And Kanye… that person had the scent of a damp snake.’
The sinister scent of a cunning snake that lifts its head above the swamp, flicking its tongue, tempting those whose eyes have rolled back from hunger.
You shouldn’t get close to humans who give off that kind of scent.
Regardless of their talent.
“And even if I did go, I should go to house parties first.”
With graduation next year, could you really call yourself a high school student without going to a single house party?
“I have things to do first anyway.”
Right now, organizing the inspiration that exploded in his head comes before parties he could enjoy anytime he wanted.
“Oh…”
Larry, who had been pursing his lips, lights up.
“Want to see?”
Johann shows the lyrics he wrote on his phone on the way from the bathroom to here.
Aerosmith and Black Eyed Peas, who were sitting in front of him, jump up and gather around Larry.
“This is…”
Anyone could see these were hip-hop lyrics.
‘But… why is it?’
He wants it. Even though it’s not rock, he wants it because the depth of the story is so profound.
A story that seems to be calmly told by someone who has actually experienced death.
A story of someone standing high above being disappointed by people still fighting over trivial things.
A story like a letter from a friend who went to heaven to his friend.
It’s regrettable. Really regrettable.
“Phew. Unless you compose this as rap rock, it would be difficult for us to perform.”
That makes it even more amazing.
‘To have such talent in hip-hop too!’
Not just a god of rock, but talent as if blessed by the god of music itself.
“I knew it! I knew this would happen!”
He knew Johann would be making hip-hop songs like this.
Will.i.am brushes off the goosebumps covering his body and looks at Johann with sparkling eyes, asking for these songs.
“Hmm. I do want to perform this one myself though…”
Thump!
Suddenly countless words and worries flash through Black Eyed Peas’ minds before disappearing. Because somehow it seems like Johann would overcome all of that.
“Th-then how about featuring? Joint producing?”
“I’ll think about that.”
He did need someone to look at it from a modern hip-hop perspective. Will.i.am would be perfect for that.
‘He’d easily find singers for featuring and singing too.’
He needed vocals that were slightly less husky than Robin Joel’s but with sorrowful high notes.
“Oh-!”
Just as Aerosmith was also offering congratulations.
“Ahem.”
People turn their heads at the sound from behind and are startled.
A stocky white man in a wine-colored suit. The massive rookie nominated in six categories, Sam Smith.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay…”
As he sits down shyly, his companions express disappointment.
“I guess it’s time to start.”
“We’ll be upstairs, so see you later.”
The first floor is only for singers and composers. Officials watch from the second floor.
As Rick Bottom also heads upstairs, Johann looks at Sam Smith.
“Something to say?”
“Oh, no. Ahem.”
“Wait!”
Iggy Azalea, whom he saw in front of the restroom earlier, sits between Sam Smith and Johann.
Her eyes contain hostility for some reason.
She leans toward Johann after sitting down.
“Hey. You’re going to end up with nothing. Then Mr. West will know too. You’re just a lucky brat!”
‘How dare he imitate Tupac!’
Tupac, who made her dream of becoming a rapper. Tupac was an idol to her.
On top of that, she even received a party invitation from Kanye West, whom she needed to impress.
‘If it’s a party, it must be that party!’
Puff Daddy’s party. The party where anyone who attends becomes successful.
‘I didn’t get invited! How dare he!’
Some lucky Asian got invited instead. She couldn’t stand that fact.
But since she couldn’t cause more of a scene in a place full of people she needed to impress, she snorted and turned her head away.
‘…Is she crazy.’
He considers smashing her mouth for the sudden insult but decides against it. Causing trouble in a place like this would be hard to handle.
‘Still, she’s not entirely wrong.’
Because of Sam Smith and Iggy Azalea fidgeting and glancing at him.
Not to mention Sam Smith, Iggy Azalea was also a singer who held the Billboard Hot 100 chart number one for seven weeks.
‘I’m only nominated for three…’
Song of the Year, Best Rock Song, Best New Artist. Of these, only Best New Artist was a solo nomination.
“Wow!”
Clap clap clap clap clap clap!
‘Well, if I don’t win, I don’t win!’
Failure is also experience.
Johann enjoyed the Grammy Awards, clapping like everyone else.
* * *
‘Wow.’
This is the Grammy Awards indeed.
Madonna showing another overwhelming performance this year, Sam Smith touching hearts, Aerosmith displaying an even more amazing show than their concerts – people you can’t easily see anywhere else pour their hearts out on stage.
So he gives up.
‘I won’t win any awards.’
He heard there’s a superstition at the Grammy Awards that artists who don’t perform on the celebration stage don’t win awards.
‘At best I might get the Best Rock award. Something feels a bit…’
Disappointing.
-Best New Artist of the Year award! …Johann Jefferson!
Waaaaaaah!
“Huh?”
Johann snaps to attention thinking he heard his name and looks around in confusion. People are looking at him and sending cheers and congratulations.
‘Me? Me?’
“It really is me?”
His face appears on the screen too.
“Wow…”
-Haha! Come on up quickly!
Wahahahaha!
Taylor Swift’s cheerful urging and the singers’ laughter.
Even as he stands up in a daze, he doesn’t forget one thing.
‘Who said I’d get nothing?’
With his back to the camera, Johann looks at Iggy Azalea and twists his lips into a smirk.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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