Dust scattered in the air.
At the center of it all was Desperate #25, otherwise known as Andre.
He stood at the edge of the scene, soaked in grime and sweat. Blood was splattered across his face and dripped from the corner of his mouth.
However, it wasn’t his blood. It was the blood of a life he had just taken.
A young man rushed toward him with a shout. In one clean move, Desperate #25 side-stepped and pressed the blunted edge of his knife against the boy’s neck, letting it linger there without a single word. His eyes remained hollow, devoid of any emotion.
He stared down his opponent like a predator bored of its prey.
“Try it,” he whispered, just loud enough for the mic to catch.
“I’m scared,” Shin muttered, monitoring the scene with the staff.
“Zeno’s… really good.”
“As expected from someone who won the Best New Actor in the Triple A.”
Then, Zeno’s eyes locked straight to another camera—one that showed the perspective of his victim.
A small smirk appeared on his lips, but his eyes remained the same.
“Want to die a slow, painful death?”
A breath caught on set.
Victor leaned forward instinctively, and goosebumps rose along his arms. His jaw tightened.
What the fuck was that?
His fingers curled against the monitor’s edge, and his eyes darted from Zeno to the live feed.
The camera operator had slightly pulled back, and Victor understood why.
There was something too real about it—like he truly wanted to murder someone.
Victor narrowed his eyes.
There was no way.
Still, he couldn’t help the creeping unease crawling up his spine.
Zeno tilted his head ever so slightly, still in character. His chest rose and fell with a slow calmness, unaffected by the chaos behind him.
When the scene finally called for him to move again, he spun his knife and slit across his opponent’s neck. A blood packet exploded, the timing perfect.
The camera followed him.
Zeno turned toward the general direction of the lens, gaze fixed once more.
Victor felt something in his stomach twist. He stood frozen as a face flashed in his mind.
One with a similar gaze. Not quite identical, but carved from the same stone.
He stepped back, almost tripping over a wire.
No. It couldn’t be. That wasn’t possible.
“Cut!” Devon’s voice rang out across the set.
The tension snapped, and the clangs quieted. The extras dropped their stances and slowly exhaled.
Zeno stood still for a second longer before letting out a short breath and reverting back to his usual self, casually brushing the fake blood from his chin.
However, that face in Victor’s memory refused to fade. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled off his headset.
“Sir?” Devon asked. “Are you alright?”
Victor clicked his tongue. “Where’s my coffee?” he asked impatiently.
Devon bowed. “Right away, sir.”
With that, he left Victor all alone, still trying to steady his heartbeat.
The guilt resurfaced from the abyss he had shoved it into.
That face…
That boy…
He shook his head sharply.
‘You’re losing it,’ he told himself. ‘That boy is long dead.’
***
The skies were darkening, adding to the ambiance of it all. The First Circle was nearing its end, but there were still a couple of action-packed scenes left for them to finish.
“Scene 34. Take 1. Action!”
The grounds were more quiet now. They didn’t think that twelve hours would last this long. They started at noon, so it would end at midnight.
They also didn’t know how many remained; however, one thing was for sure. Desperate #25 was dominating the game, while the past winner, Desperate #41, was nowhere to be seen.
Smoke emerged faintly from the grass. The rusted barrels, broken crates, and scattered wires paint a picture of hopelessness.
Suddenly, there were soft footsteps coming from afar.
A group of desperates hid behind hid behind a crumbling beam.
#69, played by Jace, peeked around the edge. His knuckles were pale, fingers gripping his prop weapon a little too lightly.
He looked absolutely nervous, and he truly was. Fortunately, that was needed for the scene, so Victor PD didn’t cut it short.
“He’s alone. We can corner him now if we move fast,” he said.
That was one of his two speaking lines.
#33, played by Sora, looked at the group, appearing desperate to eradicate #25.
#1, played by Misha, sighed before pulling something from her belt.
“I found these near some of the corpses,” she muttered, revealing three knives. “We will not win if we go near him. But with these, we can attack from afar.”
“CUT!” Victor shouted. “Let’s move to the next.”
The following setup took place in a narrower part of the set.
This was a planned ambush scene—seven desperates attempting to take down the dominant threat, with Misha and Sora being the ones to throw the knives.
“Let’s prep the knife scene. Get the stunt double ready,” Victor added.
The crew scrambled to set up the new scene, which now centered on Marvin—Zeno’s stunt double.
Zeno stepped aside for a moment. No wonder Marvin smelled like a hair salon. He had his hair permed to duplicate Zeno’s slightly wavy hair.
Victor approached him quietly and whispered something. Whatever it was, Marvin’s face tensed, and he appeared more determined than usual.
Zeno, watching from the sidelines, narrowed his gaze.
This was Marvin’s final chance. That much was clear.
“All right, let’s run the throw first,” Victor announced. “This is so you could feel the distance,” he said to Misha.
Misha nodded, though she looked slightly hesitant. Apple guided her forward, placing a knife in her hand.
“It’s dulled,” she assured. “But it’s still heavy, so be careful.”
“Okay,” Misha breathed, squaring her shoulders.
She lifted the knife with a deep breath before releasing it into the air.
At this point, #25 should do a light flip to dodge the knife. However, with Marvin’s injury, he couldn’t accomplish the flip on time, so it struck him where his injury was.
There wasn’t any blood, but Marvin appeared to be in pain due to the heavy prop.
He dropped to the ground with a curse.
The crew paused while Misha rushed toward him immediately. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?! I didn’t mean to—maybe we need a break—”
He waved her off quickly, gritting his teeth. “No. I’m okay.”
Marvin knew they couldn’t afford another break. They were already delayed because of what happened earlier this morning.
“You’re hurt,” Misha argued.
Across the set, Victor massaged the bridge of his nose. Then, he turned to Devon, whose expression turned into a pained one.
Marvin watched them from afar, and it was clear from Victor’s expression that he’d already made a decision.
Marvin clenched his fists by his side and tried to stand, but Misha shook her head.
“Sir, you really need to rest,” she muttered.
“Didn’t he tell you to back off?” Zeno asked, stepping forward.
They froze at Zeno’s tone.
Zeno’s eyes fell on Misha. “He’s alright. Right?”
Marvin staggered but nodded. “Yeah.”
Misha clenched her fists. “What are you doing?” she muttered.
“He can do it, he says,” Zeno said with a neutral expression. “So, why are you stopping a capable man?”
Misha felt the tug at her heart again. Every time, her perception of him just worsens.
“He’s clearly not—”
However, Marvin stood with a determined expression.
“I can do it!”