When he woke up, Averie found the two girls loitering around the sofa. They were watching the news on the television with the volume lowered.

The tired actor groaned, watching them nibble at the sandwiches that they had ordered from the restaurant.

The curtains, which were pulled together, let in a single ray of golden brilliance. It blinded Averie.

"Evening," Hyerin whispered, unsure if her drowsy friend was in any mood to talk. "Want some?"

Averie shook his head.

"Coffee," he whimpered.

"Okay."

As she picked up the telephone receiver, the news caught the sleepy actor’s eye.

Two people had committed suicide by jumping off a telephone tower.

’That’s new,’ he thought, pondering the creative liberties in suicide. ’The classics were too boring for those two, I guess.’

Wearing the skin of Averie Quinn Auclair, who had overdosed on sleeping pills, he found the whole affair too sordid to make fun of.

With eyelids weighing heavily on his eyeballs, he leaned his head back, as if staring at the heavens beyond the ceiling.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked.

Min-Ha looked at Hyerin, who was ordering coffee, and answered reluctantly, "We were bored."

"So, you entertained yourselves by waking me up?"

She shrugged her shoulders, avoiding his gaze. "I wouldn’t put it that way."

Miss Meow, the black cat, waved her tail in the air and jumped graciously into his lap.

"I nearly forgot about you," Averie whispered, stroking her head. "Every respectable villain needs a pet cat in his lap. If not for that, I would’ve thrown you to the dogs long ago."

The cat purred, as if unaffected by his bluff.

"What’s this?"

His gaze fell on the card lying on the coffee table.

’Elise Corsini?’

He had heard that name somewhere, but in his stupor, he couldn’t recall.

Before he could jog his memory, Hyerin answered, "We met Director Corsini!"

"No, we didn’t."

"Okay, technically not. But one of his people—"

"His daughter, who is also his agent," interjected Min-Ha.

Hyerin glared at the girl, daring her to interrupt her again. "Anyway, they sent a card up to your room while you were asleep. The director wants to meet you. Can you believe it?"

"Of course, I can," Averie answered without a second thought.

He had heard of the man, watched a couple of his movies, and even read some articles about him.

"What a lucky man he is, getting to meet me so effortlessly." He got up and marched into the bathroom. "He had better be holding a fantastic script for me."

Hyerin, who caught every last word of it, wore a bemused expression. Where so much sass was coming from, she couldn’t tell.

The bathroom door closed, and the sound of a steady stream breaking the calm surface of water echoed through the room.

An awkward silence fell over the two girls.

They tried desperately to come up with something to talk about, but the art of conversation betrayed them at the most vulnerable moment.

They waited for the stream to dry out and for the peace of mind to return. But every time the sound stopped and relief washed over them, like death’s eternal hunt for mortal flesh, the stream resumed once again.

So, it continued, on and on.

Embarrassment colored the ladies’ cheeks red, and Hyerin started to worry.

"A-Averie," she called.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Of course... Oh, lord!" he moaned, relief washing over him.

Inside the washroom, Averie was pouring a glass of water into the commode, watching as ripples formed.

’It’s hard to get it right. Who would have thought simulating piss would be this difficult?’

He was enjoying this seemingly baffling pursuit of his.

"This is art," he mused.

When Averie was finally done horsing around and stepped out of the bathroom, donning the shining visage of a man free of worldly matters, Min-Ha beckoned him.

"Come here, look at this."

The two girls were watching something on Hyerin’s smartphone.

"It’s you," Hyerin said, flashing her teeth.

On the phone, a video of Averie—recorded by one of the guests waiting in the lobby—was playing.

It depicted the actor listening to an enthusiastic little girl going on about this and that.

"Aw," Hyerin exclaimed. "She looks so excited. Apparently, her mother is an actress, while she herself is a child actress. The film changed her views on acting, or so her mother says in a post."

’Yeah, right,’ Averie thought, sarcastic and cynical as he could be. ’What does that kid know? Parents always like to exaggerate; apart from mine, that is.’

Gene Conti grew up in not-so-preferred conditions. So, he didn’t understand some of these modern parents.

’Your child is no more special than any other child, idiot.’

Suddenly, the girls burst into a fit of laughter.

"What?"

"She—" Hyerin stifled her laugh and continued with some effort. "She said she wants to be a beautiful actress like you!"

Min-Ha dropped her sandwich, giggling. "Beautiful actress!"

Somehow, the image of the violent man did not align with the little girl’s description of him. The idea was too outlandish, so much so that the disbelief induced a manic state in the two girls.

Averie himself didn’t mind. He wasn’t offended.

"Yeah, this feels wrong."

But the man didn’t have time to ponder it as he received a call from a familiar number.

"Good evening, director," Averie said.

He yawned into the phone as he leaned over the safety rail and closed the balcony door behind him.

From the other side, Jean-Louis Groux addressed the actor.

"He liked the film."

Averie’s voice grew solemn. "Yeah?"

"The old man said he saw her in The Lady. It was like witnessing perfection for the first time in his life, apparently."

"We didn’t violate any of the festival rules by sending him a digital copy, did we?"

"It was a private viewing, which is allowed." The director hesitated before continuing. "There’s one more thing..."

Beyond the door, sitting at the edge of the soft mattress, Hyerin showed Min-Ha her phone.

It displayed a latest news article.

’Born during a period of uncertainty and active in a period of progress, master painter Chaoxiang Cao breathes his last in a period graced by art.’