I Accidentally Became A Superstar

He was with his team again today. They were in a separate practice room now, and they were waiting for Zeno to distribute the scripts.

They had been waiting for a long time—that is, if you counted a single day as a long time. However, with the amount of time they had to produce the full mini-movie, it was pretty understandable.

Even though he hadn’t acknowledged Ari’s words yesterday, it did trigger something in him. He didn’t admit it, but the moment he got back to his room, his hand wouldn’t stop moving. By the time dawn broke, there were pages on his desk.

Now, those very pages were in his teammates’ hands.

Risa’s eyes darted over the lines, her lips quirking into a small smile.

When she finished the last line Zeno had written, she slowly lowered the paper and stared at him.

“You really are a good writer,” she muttered in amazement.

Hero, predictably, had the biggest reaction. He slammed his hands against the table so hard Risa nearly dropped the paper.

“MASTER, YOU’RE THE BEST!” Hero shouted, his whole body bouncing with excitement. “This is art! No—this is divinity!”

Ian was quieter, but when he looked up, his eyes were glassy. His voice cracked when he said, “You write really beautifully.”

Zeno pursed his lips. Why the heck do they always have to be so dramatic?

Sangwon, on the other hand, acted predictably. He clicked his tongue, leaned back in his chair, and narrowed his eyes at Zeno. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Zeno turned to him with an exasperated sigh.

Sangwon tapped the papers with the back of his knuckles. “This thing just ends. How are we supposed to work with a half-written script.”

Zeno pursed his lips, fighting back the irritation that bubbled inside him. He failed miserably. He was irritated.

Truthfully, though, he hadn’t written the entire thing.

After his conversation with Ari, he’d made a choice. He’d dug back into one of his old lives—one where he had lived vividly, painfully, in colors that he didn’t want to remember. A life that had been brutal and sweet, and one where he had experienced emotions in their fullest.

It was the life that haunted him up to this pointed just because it was the first time he wanted to stay. So, when it came to the ending, he hesitated.

He already knew what had happened. He died at twenty-five. That was how the story went. That was how it always ended for him.

A part of him wanted to put it down on paper exactly as it was. However in the end, there was still a lot of hesitation in my mind. He wasn’t sure if he wanted one of his past lives to end exactly as it did in what was deemed to be a fictional movie.

“Well?” Sangwon pressed again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Zeno clicked his tongue, unable to hide his annoyance. “Old men always complain too much.”

Sangwon’s eyes widened at the insult. “Old man?” he exclaimed.

The others snickered while Zeno continued looking at him.

“You write it if you want.”

***

In one of the storage rooms of the villa, Phoenix was waiting.

It wasn’t glamorous. Dust clung to the corners, the walls were lined with crates, and a single bulb glowed faintly from the ceiling.

It wasn’t the usual place he would go to, but he had no choice. He was going to meet someone here.

He leaned casually against a stack of boxes, hands in his pockets, glancing at his phone from time to time.

“He’s late,” he muttered.

Just then, the door opened with a creak, and Billy slipped inside, closing it quickly behind him. His grin was a little too wide and his footsteps were brisk as he crossed the room toward Phoenix. “Here,” Billy said, holding out a folded set of papers.

Phoenix took it without comment, his eyebrow lifting in interest. He actually pushed through with his request. What a stupid guy.

“You’re going to do as promised, right?” Billy asked expectantly.

Phoenix tilted his head slightly. Then he gave a short, amused exhale. “Yes,” he said smoothly. “I’ll tell Mr. Kim to give you a solo project soon.”

Billy’s grin widened even further. He rubbed his palms together lightly, already imagining his future. “Nice,” he said. “Well, see you.” He turned around with a wave, already halfway out the door, satisfied with the transaction.

Phoenix watched him go, his lips twitching into the faintest ghost of a smile. The latch clicked shut behind Billy, leaving Phoenix alone again.

Phoenix glanced down at the folded paper now resting in his hand. Zeno’s script.

He unfolded it slowly, not rushing, because Phoenix never rushed. Rushing was for losers—just like his teammates.

His teammates had been insistent, encouraging him in his role as the director. He was also chosen to be the main character of their mini-movie. Well, he had expected it. He was the most popular among all of them.

It was only expected that they were going to do the technicalities because the movie won’t sell well otherwise.

He could see their efforts, though. So, that’s one merit in this team of his. However, in this competition, no matter how much effort his team put in, the other group still drew the spotlight. The other group was still more popular.

It was unfair because he was carrying all of the weight.

Phoenix clenched his jaw as he thought about it. He unfolded the paper fully and started to read, scanning the lines.

The first few sentences made his brows crease. By the middle part, his expression darkened. And by the time he reached the end, he froze.

What the fuck?

Phoenix’s eyes flicked back to the beginning, scanning again, this time slower. He read through the dialogue, the descriptions, the small details tucked into the narrative. His heartbeat didn’t race but his hand tightened around the page until the edge crumpled under the force of his grip.

Slowly, Phoenix lowered the paper. For a moment, his expression was as still as stone. Then, like a mask settling into place, his lips curved into a disgusted smirk.

“Zeno Han…” he murmured, the name slipping past his lips.

“You are much more cunning than I thought.”