I am the Entertainment Tycoon

The room was alive with excitement as the ArtReam Hall prepared for one of the most prestigious awards of the night: Songwriter of the Year. This category held a special place in the hearts of the artists in attendance. For many of them, it was the songwriters—the quiet architects of music—who built the foundation on which their voices, instruments, and performances were brought to life.

As the evening progressed, whispers and murmurs filled the air, speculating on who might win. There were a few frontrunners, each of whom had left a mark on the world of music over the past year. But, ultimately, it was known that the committee would reward the artist whose lyrics and melodies had touched listeners in a way that transcended fame or popularity.

The lights dimmed, and a familiar voice announced the award's category, catching everyone's attention. The stage illuminated as Katsuo Shiro, a legendary songwriter and previous recipient of this award, approached the microphone. His presence alone brought reverence, and the audience quieted in respect. Katsuo, known for his ability to blend the old with the new, had written hits that had defined genres, eras, and the lives of many who listened.

"Good evening, everyone," he began, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His voice was warm, with a depth that suggested years of both wisdom and experience. "It's an honor to be here tonight to present the Songwriter of the Year award."

He paused, looking out at the sea of artists before him. "Songwriting is, in many ways, the soul of music. While the voices sing, the melodies soar, and the instruments play, it's the words and the notes that create the journey. A songwriter weaves emotions into verses, tells stories with chords, and brings meaning to the silence between each note."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall as artists and musicians nodded along, resonating with his words.

"This award," Katsuo continued, "celebrates those who, through their craft, have captured our hearts and spoken to our souls. These are the artists who remind us of love, loss, hope, and joy. They show us the world through their eyes, yet somehow manage to reflect our own experiences back to us."

Katsuo turned to the screen behind him, which displayed the names of the nominees. As he read each name, a clip of their nominated song played on the screens, reminding the audience of the powerful lyrics and melodies that had left an imprint on Azure Star this past year.

The anticipation in the room was tangible, as each nominee was celebrated with respectful nods and applause. Artists exchanged glances, many of them inspired by or friends with the nominees.

"Our first nominee is Naomi Asano, for her breathtaking work on 'After the Rain Falls,'" Katsuo announced.

The screen showed a snippet of Naomi's song, a poignant piece filled with gentle, vulnerable lyrics that explored themes of resilience and healing. Her words, soft yet strong, had become an anthem for those facing difficult times.

"Our second nominee," Katsuo continued, "is Riku Kato for 'Waves of Yesterday.'"

The hall filled with the rich, nostalgic melody of Riku's song. The lyrics painted pictures of forgotten memories, loves lost, and the bittersweet beauty of moving on. Riku's poetry, laced with longing, spoke to anyone who had experienced a love that left a lasting mark.

Katsuo went on, introducing each nominee. Every clip, every song, told a story that captured the hearts of the audience. But as the final name appeared on the screen, a quiet tension built in the room. This was the moment they had been waiting for.

"And the winner," Katsuo said, pausing for effect as he opened the envelope in his hands, "of Songwriter of the Year is… Yuki Moriyama, for 'Where the Stars Rest.'"

The room erupted in applause as Yuki Moriyama's name was announced. There was a mix of admiration and respect in the reaction; Yuki was a quiet and humble artist who had worked diligently in the industry for years, crafting songs that were both intimate and universal. His work was known for its delicate balance of imagery and emotion, often leaving listeners with a feeling of wonder and introspection.

The camera panned to Yuki, who looked momentarily stunned. His eyes widened as his friends and colleagues around him urged him up, clapping and cheering him on. Slowly, he stood, taking a moment to gather himself, before he walked toward the stage. His face reflected a mix of disbelief and gratitude as he stepped up to accept the Sapphire Award.

As Yuki reached the microphone, the applause began to settle, and a respectful silence filled the hall. He took a deep breath, looking out at the faces of those who had been both his inspiration and his supporters.

"This… this is incredible," Yuki began, his voice soft yet steady. "Thank you. I never expected to be standing here tonight. I've always been someone who preferred to stay behind the scenes, letting the music speak for itself."

He looked down at the award in his hands, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. "I wrote 'Where the Stars Rest' during a time when I was searching for something… a meaning, a purpose. Writing became my way of understanding the world and myself. And knowing that these words, this melody, has touched so many people—that is the greatest honor I could ever receive."

In the audience, several artists exchanged glances, clearly moved by Yuki's honesty. Many of them understood the vulnerability that came with songwriting, and the courage it took to lay bare one's soul in music.

"Songwriting," Yuki continued, his voice gaining strength, "is more than just a job for me. It's my connection to the world, my way of expressing emotions that I can't put into spoken words. And if I've learned anything through this journey, it's that music has a way of reaching people when nothing else can. It creates a space where we can feel safe, where we can feel understood, and where we can just be."

His words resonated deeply with the artists and the audience, many of whom were nodding in agreement. For them, too, music was more than just a profession—it was a calling.

"I want to thank everyone who has been part of this journey," Yuki said, glancing toward the section where his friends and family were seated. "To my family, for always believing in me, even when I doubted myself. To my friends and collaborators, who have pushed me to dig deeper and write from the heart. And to the Sapphire Awards for recognizing traditional music, which is the roots of our identity. It means so much to me to be part of this night, to celebrate not only music but also the stories and emotions that bind us all."

Yuki's gaze shifted back to the audience, and a gentle smile crossed his face. "To every songwriter out there—whether you're on a stage, in a studio, or just writing for yourself—know that your voice matters. Your words, your melodies, they hold power. So keep writing, keep creating, and never underestimate the impact you can have on someone else's life."

A soft wave of applause began to build, as his words lingered in the air. His humility and passion were evident, and it was clear that his work had touched not only those who had listened to his songs but also his fellow artists.

"Thank you all once again," Yuki concluded, his voice filled with emotion. "This is a night I will never forget. I'm beyond grateful for this honor, and I promise to keep writing, to keep telling stories, and to continue sharing my heart through music."

With a final, heartfelt bow, Yuki stepped back from the microphone, holding his award close. The hall filled with applause, louder this time, as the audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation. The artists in the crowd, each deeply familiar with the challenges and triumphs of songwriting, clapped and cheered, their admiration evident.

As Yuki made his way back to his seat, several artists reached out to shake his hand or offer words of congratulations. The sense of camaraderie in the room was palpable; in that moment, everyone was united, not as competitors, but as fellow creators celebrating the beauty of music.

For many in attendance, Yuki's win and his speech were a reminder of why they had chosen this path—the power of words, the importance of storytelling, and the magic of music that connected them all.

Songwriters in the Azure Star were extremely valued and appreciated, so Yuki's speech only affirmed this fact.