"Solomon’s solemnity, lost to lust, bound by divinity..." muttered a man in his late forties.

His sky-blue eyes were following the words printed neatly on a piece of paper. His face was clean-shaven, and his appearance was classy.

It was Oliver Blacksmith, a renowned Hollywood actor.

"Solomon’s solemnity—" He groaned in frustration.

Something wasn’t clicking. He couldn’t get it right.

"You should relax."

The voice travelled through the air as if it were relaying something profound. Its timbre bore the quality to demand attention. It bore a languid intensity and a brusque roughness.

"Treat it as a vacation."

It came from across the room.

There, staring out the glass window, bathed in the glow of the moon, was a man swirling his wine glass.

Based on his wild appearance and gruff voice, one may guess that a wine glass would not suit him, but that was not the case.

The suit he wore, the way he styled his hair, the solemn look in his eyes—everything suited him perfectly.

It was his own special charm, a gift any actor would covet: a wide range.

Even though he was a few years younger than Oliver Blacksmith, he didn’t hesitate to speak his mind.

"You sound like a dying cat. Ever heard it?" He turned around and took a seat on the sofa. "I have heard it. It’s not intense; it’s sad."

His voice was just nasally enough to make it both charming and intimidating. That’s why, more than any other skill of his, his ability to deliver dialogue was the most renowned in the acting world.

"Take a break."

His name was Aron Evra.

"No." Oliver took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and continued. "Solomon’s solemnity... Lost to lust, bound by divinity."

"That’s better," Aron Evra commented.

"No, it’s not."

He practiced the same line again and again.

"Exactly fifteen minutes," Aron noted as the minute hand of his wristwatch moved past twelve. "Practice won’t help. You need to relax for now; come back to it later."

Oliver opened and closed his mouth helplessly. He put down the script, rested his head back, and rubbed his face with a long sigh.

"If it’s messing with you," Aron said, "you need to resolve it. You can’t be out of shape now."

"I know." He poured himself a cup of green tea. "Are you not affected?"

Aron didn’t answer.

"Not one bit?"

He raised his glass. "Of course, I am affected. Why do you think I’ve been drinking so much?"

Indeed, the coffee table was littered with wine bottles.

"I’ve never pissed so much in my life."

The pair had been acting like this since they returned from the theater. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"I didn’t think this festival would be any different from the ones before, thought it was a good opportunity to rest and meet new faces."

"Hmm."

In the white hotel suite, the sound of traffic below did not reach.

’If the groans of cars couldn’t reach the penthouse of a five-star hotel, would the prayers of supplicants reach the kingdom of Heaven?’

Oliver Blacksmith liked that quote. It was from one of his favorite books.

"It’s funny, isn’t it?" Aron said. "We literally saw him at the airport."

He hesitated before blurting out the following words:

"Do you think he found the fanfare around us laughable at the time?"

Honestly, Oliver didn’t care. "I don’t know."

"We should’ve asked around who he was."

"What does it matter?"

"The shock could’ve been lessened."

Oliver understood his colleague. It wasn’t easy to get the signature of Averie Quinn Auclair, penned in red, out of the head.

In that moment, everything they knew and all their beliefs were shattered. They experienced the phenomenon of ego death, most commonly attributed to LSD.

"What did you see?" Oliver asked.

He didn’t need to specify. Aron understood the question very well.

"Thug B."

Oliver didn’t interrupt.

"It was my first gig, an extra. It had one line. Six words. Twenty-six letters." He poured himself more wine. "I thought I did a good job, as good as an extra could do."

He downed the entire glass in one gulp.

"It never really bothered me, but she—"

"The Lady."

"Yeah, her. She showed me another Thug B. Thug B of this Mr. Auclair."

Oliver didn’t need to be told more. He could deduce the rest. But there was one thing he was curious about.

"What was the line?"

Aron put down his glass and turned to his colleague, his face breaking into a fierce scowl. "You should leave, you mangy cunt."

***

"How was it?" Min-Ha asked, welcoming the two.

"You’re still in my room?"

"Just keeping your bed warm."

Averie shook his head.

"Did you fill the bathtub?" Hyerin asked.

The girl picked up her handbag. "Just as you told me."

Averie nodded in approval. "Throwing your tasks on someone else? Very good, Rin; you’re learning."

Hyerin didn’t seem flattered as she placed the book given to them by the director on the nightstand. "I did it for you, so don’t be rude."

"Rude?" He unbuttoned his shirt. "That was a genuine compliment."

"Sure." She gathered her things and quickly made for the door while her friend was stripped. "Anyway, the two of us are leaving for that nice restaurant."

"Not taking me with you?" he asked, stepping out of his pants.

"Everyone will recognize you, and we won’t get to eat. You relax here; I’ll bring back something nice."

Before Averie could lower his underwear, the girl closed the door.

"One more thing!" Averie yelled.

"What?" the girl yelled back from beyond the door.

"What’s the hottest boy group right now?"

"What?"

Naked, he marched up to the door. "You heard me."

"I don’t know. Boyance, I guess."

"The second hottest?"

"Why are you ask—"

"Tell me!"

"EvenEleven," Min-Ha was the one who answered.

"Thanks! And bye!"

He locked the door and jumped into the bathtub, enjoying the hot water.

A relaxing song was playing on his smartphone—the very phone he was furiously typing on.

Once he was done, he turned off the song, set it as his notification alert, and put the phone on the bathroom floor.

Soon enough, a barrage of notification alerts filled the room. It played the song with the skills of a deejay.

"Thank you for providing the much-needed relaxation, boys."

Thanks to a provocative post from an anonymous account, the internet was a sea of fire, with the passionate fans of Boyance and EvenEleven at each other’s throats.

Averie let out a moan as a smile bloomed on his sly face. "Yet another successful rage-baiting session."