I Accidentally Became A Superstar

Zeno stared at the blank piece of paper.

He couldn’t write anything. His pen hovered just above the surface, but no words came.

He had been tasked with everything—writing, directing, overseeing the smallest details, and possibly acting in it too.

Normally, he thrived under pressure, his mind stocked with ideas that flowed faster than he could contain them. He was unstoppable, really.

Usually, when a page sat blank in front of him, it didn’t take long before it filled with words. He wasn’t being boastful. It was just the truth!

Why, at this very moment, when everything depended on him, was his mind completely void, though?

He shook his head, the sound of his sigh echoing faintly across the auditorium.

It was late. Everyone in the villa had long gone to sleep. In this big, empty auditorium, he should have been able to think. Still, nothing came.

He exhaled slowly, dropping the pen onto the chair.

Suddenly, he felt the prickle of someone’s presence behind him. His instincts sharpened. He hadn’t heard footsteps, but someone was there.

A soft chuckle followed.

“I haven’t even opened the door fully yet,” the voice teased.

Zeno turned, and sure enough, Ari stood in the doorway. With one hand, she flicked on the light switch. The auditorium was immediately bathed in white.

“Why is it so dark in here?” she asked, tilting her head at him with mild exasperation.

“I like the dark,” Zeno replied flatly.

Ari shook her head and stepped closer. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

That line caught him off guard. His brows knitted together as he leaned back in his chair. “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering directly, Ari just shrugged and made her way over to the long row of seats. Without asking permission, she slid into the chair beside him.

Immediately, Zeno leaned away.

“Hey,” she said with mock offense. “It’s not like we haven’t talked like this before in Avalis.”

The mention of Avalis made him pause before he shook his head.

“What are you doing?” Ari asked after a moment. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes focused on the blank paper.

“Nothing,” Zeno muttered.

“Liar,” she bluntly said. “You have a lot of burdens, huh? I heard you’re going to be the writer, the director, possibly an actor, and on top of that, you’ll be helping the others, too.”

Zeno narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn’t information she should have so casually.

“I heard from the staff members,” Ari explained quickly, holding up her hands like she was warding off an accusation.

She leaned forward again, curiosity glittering in her eyes. Then, her gaze fell to the paper. “You still haven’t written anything?”

Zeno clicked his tongue in irritation. His hand shot out, folding the paper and sliding it into his pocket before she could study it further.

“I can help, you know,” Ari said with a small smile. “I’m good at writing.”

“That’s cheating,” Zeno retorted.

He pushed back his chair. He was ready to leave and retreat to somewhere quieter.

But just as he turned, he felt the gentle tug on his wrist.

Ari’s hand.

He stopped, glancing back at her.

“Are you doing alright?” she asked quietly, the teasing tone in her voice gone.

Zeno narrowed his eyes even more.

“Why are you talking to me like a therapist?”

“Sit,” Ari said simply, patting the seat where he once was.

Zeno hesitated, glaring at her, but in the end, he still followed, lowering himself into the chair again.

“I also heard from the production staff,” Ari began, “that your team isn’t doing well. There’s an air of… complacency. If that’s true?”

Zeno sighed. “So even the staff noticed it?”

“It could just be my source,” Ari muttered, leaning back a little, though her eyes lingered on him. “She’s quite perceptive, though.”

“No, she’s right,” Zeno admitted after a pause, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “That’s why I’m thinking if I should even be working this hard when they’re not.”

Ari turned to him sharply, brows raised. “Really?”

“What?” Zeno asked, defensive.

“You will never do that.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “You never do things half-assed.”

“I do,” Zeno muttered.

“No, you don’t,” she said with more certainty this time.

“The reason why you were the best employee on Avalis is that you do your best. Always. Even when you didn’t want to. Even when you were given task after task without rest.

Zeno pressed his lips together.

“And even now,” Ari continued, her voice softening, “when your popularity is at the peak—when you could probably slack off and everyone would still line up for you—you’re still doing your best. That’s why I think there’s something different in this life of yours.”

Zeno scoffed. His shook his head faintly. “You’re wrong. I’m not whatever you’re trying to make me sound like.”

But Ari only smiled, that knowing kind of smile.

“No, Zeno. You always undersell yourself. That’s the problem.”

Zeno’s jaw tightened. In his head, he was already firing back,

That’s not true. I love myself. I like myself. I don’t need this.

But the words didn’t make it past his throat. Because deep down, somewhere in the quiet space, he knew Ari wasn’t entirely wrong.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, eyes still fixed on him. “You’re the type who’ll get ninety-nine out of a hundred and then lose sleep because you missed one point. You’re the type who’ll finish something perfectly and then say it’s trash. You do that to yourself. All the time.”

“In the end, you want the best for the humans you help even if you won’t meet them again.”

Zeno’s fingers twitched against his knee. “You’re overthinking.”

“Am I?” Ari tilted her head. “You’ve always been like this. But you know what? It’s not because you hate yourself. It’s because you’ve convinced yourself that nothing you do is ever enough, even when it’s more than anyone else can give.”

Zeno frowned, glancing away.

“Perhaps,” she continued, softer now, “you should do this because you like it. No more, no less. Forget whether they work hard. Forget what the audience expects. Forget proving anything. Just because you like it.”

Zeno gave a short laugh. “Like it, huh?”

“Yes,” Ari said firmly. “Because, if I can’t help you with the script, then I can at least give you that advice.

“Because I think, Zeno Han”—she spoke his name fully, not the alias everyone else used in Avalis—”you were actually meant to live as an actor from the very beginning.”