"Liam Gallagher...?"
That peculiar gait and that face—there was no doubt it was Liam Gallagher. I couldn't even bring myself to smile, seeing him clad in those grimy, tattered factory coveralls. The man who had been hailed as the last great rock star of an era in my previous life was now standing before me in a shabby uniform, asking for my autograph.
"May I ask... your name?"
"Liam Gallagher. Just sign it already, Rockstar."
Liam spoke with a thick, staccato Manchester accent, his words clipping off sharply mid-sentence.
"How... why are you..."
The rock star known as Liam Gallagher had been my role model in my past life. Back then, I had survived each day by listening to Oasis and longing for the chaotic, rebellious life he led.
Liam Gallagher was a self-made myth—born into a poor working-class family in Manchester, he had overcome his father's domestic violence to become a global legend.
Because I knew that history, I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. This was different from Chris Martin or Sir Paul McCartney. In this world, they weren't singers, but they were living happy lives in their own right.
I had vaguely assumed that those who succeeded in my previous world would naturally enjoy happy lives in this one as well. It might have been a form of self-rationalization, but if I didn't believe that, I felt I would crumble before we even finished our schedule in the UK.
"Are you... happy, Mr. Gallagher?"
"Dunno why you're askin' such a thing, but yeah, I'm happy. Waking up in the morning is always a joy, isn't it?"
It was the same mantra the Gallagher brothers used to live by, and one I had adopted myself: *Nevertheless, waking up in the morning is always a joy.* The reason I admired him wasn't just because of his voice; it was because I respected his attitude toward life.
"Do you happen to have any siblings?"
"If you're askin' about a brother, I had one..."
The brother he was referring to was undoubtedly Noel Gallagher. But why the past tense? Had they had a falling out and cut ties, just as they did in my previous life?
"You 'had' one...?"
"My brother passed away quite a while ago."
My mind went blank. Despite his rough edges, Noel had lived a relatively steady life compared to his brother. He had been dead for a long time?
I tried to steady my trembling hands and spoke again.
"How...?"
"Just the usual for the Manchester working class. A construction site accident."
"Wait here just a moment."
My legs felt weak, as if they might give way, but I managed to steady myself and ran back to the waiting room. Ignoring the worried calls from Yokishi and Shuji, I grabbed a guitar—the one I used most frequently on stage.
"This is a guitar I've used quite often."
The instrument I brought out was a 1960 Gibson ES-355. This was the specific model Noel Gallagher had favored in my past life. In that world, he was the guitarist.
Since I had plenty of other guitars, giving this one away wouldn't truly affect me.
"I'll take it if you're givin' it, cheers. But why give me somethin' like this?"
"You wouldn't know, but you've helped me before. In a way that a guitar like this could never fully repay."
As I spoke, I handed him my business card. I was a man who had achieved success by stealing Oasis's music. I was trying to erase my guilt in whatever small way I could.
I am a selfish person. Even in this moment, I was extending a helping hand not for his sake, but for my own peace of mind.
"I don't know why you're bein' so kind, but I don't need that, Rockstar."
He brushed off my gesture, shattering my attempt at self-rationalization.
"Life's only fun when you carve out your own path with your own hands, after all."
Unlike me, who only dreamed of being a rock star while imitating him, the real Liam Gallagher was more of a rock star than I could ever hope to be—even while wearing those filthy factory clothes.
Overwhelmed by a sense of inferiority toward his spirit, I couldn't even meet those blue eyes of his, where the stars seemed embedded.
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