The audience still couldn’t believe that Zeno Han was acting in front of them. It was definitely one of the most fascinating things they’ve experienced in their life.
His face alone could send them into a daze, but it was his acting skills that made them continue watching. It was now the scene where Xeno was being recruited by Jib, played by Jim.
Xeno held a beat-up camcorder, pointing it at himself like a vlogger.
In a monotone voice, he said, “Data Number One: Humans are stupid.”
In the background, Jib, a frantic thirty-something manager in plaid pajamas and a face mask, is waving a script.
“Not all humans. Just 98%. That’s an amazing grade in this economy. Now listen, you have cheekbones that could cut tofu. I can make you a star,” he promised.
“Data Number Two: Humans do not know the definition of ‘no,’ he added in a similar monotone voice.
Jib pursed his lips. “That’s because ‘no’ in showbiz means ‘try again in five minutes.’ Now, please. I am already letting you stay inside my house as an alien stranger. Would it hurt for you to help me by becoming the main character of my show?”
Xeno shook his head. “I do not have the luxury of doing such. I must return to Planet Vorticon in exactly three Earth months with the data that the planet leaders need.”
Jib sighed. “And I’m telling you—if you star in one drama, I’ll give you ALL the data. You’ll understand humans better than your own motherboard.”
Xeno tilted his head. “That is bullshit.”
Jib’s eyes widened. “You know curse words?” he asked.
The audience laughed, and Jim felt a newfound confidence in his chest. He was truly doing better than anyone had expected, even himself. He took Zeno’s advice to heart and acted for his long, lost dream.
“I’m telling the truth!” Jib insisted.
“How about this? Data Number Three: Humans are superior to other planets because… they have emotions.”
Xeno’s eyes flickered for a moment. “That’s another piece of bullshit.”
Jib sighed before leaning in, dead serious. “I’m not kidding. I’ll help you. I promise.”
“Promise… logged.”
He lowered the camcorder. “I am already experiencing regret. Fascinating.”
The audience once again laughed, and Doha smiled proudly at the side. It seemed he had a talent for this.
Mr. Goldie also took note of this. He thought it seemed a bit silly, but then again, the other scripts weren’t any better.
Zeno did every role perfectly. He could confidently say that his acting had improved in the span of a week.
Although this role coincided with his current life, there were moments when he felt out of his comfort zone, pushing him to become better.
Up until now, the audience was predominantly amused.
However, the last scene was about to come, and it left Zeno with an ambiguous feeling.
It was time for his goodbye.
The audience was still smiling because there was not a hint of a sad scene coming next. However, as soon as everything calmed down, they finally had a hunch.
Zeno and Jim had set the tone perfectly despite not speaking.
On the rooftop of Jib’s apartment building, Xeno stood with his usual impeccable posture.
Jib stood behind him, arms crossed and eyes red. Whether it was from crying or from not sleeping, even he wasn’t sure anymore.
With their positions, the audience could tell that the play was coming to an end. It was squeezed into such a short amount of time, and they wanted it to continue on, curious about their story.
“Are you really going?” Jib asked.
Xeno didn’t look back. He nodded slowly. His eyes were fixed on the horizon like he was waiting for something to arrive.
“Yes,” Xeno softly said.
There was a long pause, and in those seconds, the audience was completely silent.
“I always thought Earth was the worst,” Xeno started off.
Even with a funny statement, the audience didn’t dare laugh.
“A planet full of contradictions.”
“How can you have everything? “Corruption. Poverty. Violence. Greed. War. Betrayal. It made no sense. How can life here be so imperfect, but you’re deemed as the most advanced planet?”
Jib stepped forward but said nothing, watching him speak.
“And yet…,” he continued.
“You cry when you’re hurt. You smile when you’re loved. You scream when you’re angry and laugh when you shouldn’t. You feel pity… even for a killer.”
He finally turned to face Jib. “You are not heartless even when you are. You’re… human.”
Jib pursed his lips, suppressing a sad smile. “So you’re saying… Data Number Three was right?”
Zeno didn’t want to admit to this, but for the role, he had to.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Humans are superior—because they feel even when it breaks them.”
Jib chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. He stepped closer. “You’re really gonna leave after dropping a philosophical bomb like that?”
“I do not intend to explode anything. Figuratively or otherwise.”
“You idiot,” Jib said, swallowing hard. “Xeno…”
“Thank you,” Xeno said before Jib could say anything else.
“I enjoyed my stay on Earth. It was… fun.”
Jib smirked, blinking back something he’d never admit was a tear.
“You were a terrible actor at first, you know?”
“And you are a reckless human,” Xeno countered.
They looked at each other. Xeno’s eyes blinked softly. Then, for what seemed to be the first time, he did something unexpected.
He smiled.
And in that second, Jib could almost believe he wasn’t an alien.
Just a friend. Maybe the best one he was never meant to have.
The audience gasped, seeing Zeno smile. It felt like it was the first time they had seen him genuinely smile throughout the play. However, even then, there was an underlying sadness in his smile—like he wasn’t ready to go.
It perfectly conveyed the emotions they were also feeling.
They didn’t want it to end.
It was similar to the smile he did for ‘Broken Chains of Justice,’ when he thought about his ten-year-long rest.
However, at that moment, Zeno felt that something was different, too.
He couldn’t smile fully at the thought of a long rest, unlike before.
There was a lingering disappointment with the thought of having to leave.