In the Ninth Circle set, they were already deep into filming, with most of the fluff scenes out of the way.
Now, it was the seventh circle.
Zeno adjusted his mic and glanced at the cliff set looming before them—jagged rocks, wind machines rumbling, and smoke cannons prepped.
Of course, it wasn’t real, but they did a good job making sure it felt like it. It was an important day for him.
It’s the day of his death.
From the start, he already knew he wasn’t meant to make it in the end. He was what you called a ’wildcard.’ He wasn’t the main character, after all. It was Sangwon.
At this very scene, he was going to act with him on a deeper level, too. They’d been filming together since episode one, but this was the first time they’d be toe to toe in a serious scene.
Zeno knew he had to bring it.
Sangwon was still a very annoying man, and Zeno just wanted to make him taste the bitterness of life.
It seemed the older man still hadn’t gotten over what had happened during the Star Collision. He’d live. His pride just wouldn’t let him accept what Zeno had told him.
Even now, before the start of their scene, Sangwon was deliberately ignoring Zeno while the final touches of his makeup were being done.
“Quiet on the set, everyone!” Devon PD called out, his voice echoing across the cliffside stage. The wind machines roared faintly in the distance.
The cast was already in position. The crew was, too. However, as much as they were excited to watch this particular scene, most of them also knew what was going to come next.
Zeno’s character was going to die, which meant they wouldn’t be able to see him on the set from this day on! After this scene, they still had two weeks left of continuous filming.
They were already fatigued, and seeing Zeno’s face was honestly the saving grace for most of them.
“I’m going to make the most out of this,” Apple said from behind the cameras.
Extras who had no lines today exchanged glances with quiet sympathy.
Devon PD looked to the monitor one more time and sighed. “We really hate to see him go,” he murmured to the assistant director beside him.
“He brought something to this set,” the AD agreed, eyes glued to the monitor. “Every day.”
“Yeah, his freshness,” Apple added. “Now, it’s going to be filled with the scent of late millennials and borderline boomers.”
Devon turned to him and tilted his head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
The AD patted Devon’s shoulder. “Let’s not mess with those from Gen Z.”
Devon still didn’t understand what that meant, but he nodded in the end.
With that, he looked around, making sure everything was in place.
“Action!”
The moment the cue dropped, the cliff wind howled louder, cued by the effects team.
In the middle of the circle, Desperate #25 stood bleeding, staggering, shaking—but not from pain. From rage.
“You voted,” he spat, his breath heavy, arms limp at his sides. “All of you.”
Five silhouettes stood on the other end of the cliff, Sora among them, her face masked with guilt. But it was Sangwon—Desperate #41—who stepped forward.
His jaw clenched. It was time for him to play the hero. In this scene, #25 was the villain.
“It was the only choice,” #41 said sharply. “You know that. You know how much these other people have to live for.”
#25 tilted his head before a twisted smile stretched across his dirt-covered face.
“The only choice?” he repeated, voice trembling. “You all stood there, letting the Circle decide. Like you’re innocent. Like you’re not just as desperate as me.”
#41 opened his mouth to answer, but the moment he looked into #25’s eyes, he hesitated.
Sangwon felt his heart skip a beat. There was something unhinged about how Zeno looked into his eyes. He really didn’t want to lose this time.
#25’s lips twitched.
“Especially you,” he growled.
There was silence.
The crew behind the cameras exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“What the hell,” the boom mic operator whispered. “I just felt a chill run down my spine.”
“He’s acting like he’s possessed,” Devon muttered.
#25 took a step forward, dragging his wounded leg. The cameras followed in close-up. His body trembled with effort, but it didn’t encapsulate just physical pain. It appeared like he was being consumed by his emotions.
“You walk like a hero,” he said to #41, voice breaking, “but you’re nothing but a coward dressed in fresh white. You came here because you don’t have anything to live for anymore? And that you want to change this fucking game?”
“That’s bullshit!” he exclaimed, some spit spraying from his mouth.
However, it didn’t look dirty at all.
Ssangwon felt another stab to his heart. He was the more seasoned actor. The veteran. Yet, this rookie actor was able to shake him.
Still, he recovered quickly, narrowing his eyes. But the fury in Zeno’s performance didn’t let up.
“You’re all hypocrites!” #25 below, now, eyes wild. “You pretend you care about who dies, but deep down, you’re relieved it’s not you.”
The scene was still going, and of course, it was still scripted.
But Zeno was making it something else entirely.
His breath came in short bursts, chest heaving like a rabid animal’s.
“You talk about sacrifice,” he hissed, scanning the faces of the remaining five. “You talk about morals. But let’s get real—none of you would be standing here if the rules weren’t in your favor.”
“You call this justice? You think following orders from an unseen voice makes you noble?” he laughed bitterly.
“We know this system. We know what it does. And we know none of us ever cared. At least, I’m brave enough to admit it.”
He staggered, grabbing his side, then lifted his blood-stained hand into the air.
Just then, his eyes showed so many emotions all at once. It had happened—he was at his breaking point.
“I can’t die!” he screamed, eyes bulging. “I don’t want to die for my brother and sister!”
His cry echoed across the set, filled with pain, defiance, and desperation so pitiful, it silenced everyone.