There were a lot of familiar faces now.
Billy strolled in shortly after Misha, nodding at a few people he recognized before shooting Ian a grin. His blindfold hung around his wrist like a stylish bracelet.
The moment it was off, he’d made a beeline to make new friends, basking in the praise he was getting from the newer, less recognized artists.
Behind him came others—faces Ian vaguely remembered from commercials, web dramas, indie films. There were a few more—rookie actors who’d been extras in someone’s flashback or played best friend #2 with one line and perfect eyebrows.
The space was beginning to feel fuller, like the waiting room before a very odd audition.
Somehow, among the crowd, Ian, Risa, Misha, and Hero had become a circle.
They hadn’t meant to do it. It just happened. Maybe because they knew each other—or at least, had heard of each other enough to spark conversation (except for Hero, he still doesn’t know why he’s here).
Whatever the reason, they were now the unspoken nucleus.
The untouchables.
People were glancing at them—some curious, some starstruck, some trying to casually inch closer without looking obvious. A few rookies had even stopped mid-step, exchanging low whispers with wide eyes.
Hero didn’t help.
He was smiling brightly at everyone who passed. “That’s Yoo Jiwon, I think. He was in that ramen ad last year. Oh my gosh, and that’s the girl from the historical web drama. I didn’t think they’d pull in this many names—this really is next-level…”
The door opened again.
A tall man walked in with confident steps.
Suho Ryu.
“Oh, wow,” Hero muttered, standing straighter. “It’s Suho Ryu,” the eternal younger brother, who also played the youngest brother in The Forsaken Prince.
He walked over without hesitation, joining Ian, Risa, and Misha. He gave a small nod of greeting.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Ian echoed, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
Suho smirked. “Neither did I. I thought I wouldn’t see a familiar face.”
A few more faces showed up before another shadow entered.
“Oska?” Risa murmured. She had known more artists from Daebak were coming, but Oska was not on her radar.
After all, he was Bacon PD’s son. They watched as he walked to the corner of the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest and not gazing at anyone. Although that didn’t stop them from speaking about him.
While the room continued to fill up, Risa noticed something. “I feel like we’re all here for a reason,” she said, glancing at the circle.
“Yeah, I think we all have something in common,” Suho added.
Hero looked from face to face. “Do you think it’s because you’ve all worked with…?”
Before he could finish his statement, the doors creaked again.
Every head turned.
Another person stepped into the room, blindfolded.
The cloth was removed slowly.
Zeno blinked against the warm light before narrowing his eyes.
His gaze swept across the space, taking in the people scattered throughout. Twenty?
No.
More than that.
Twenty-five?
He stood completely still.
A hush fell over the room before whispers filled the space.
“Is that… Zeno Han?”
“I only ever see him on billboards.”
“I can’t believe he just debuted this year.”
“Yeah, I’ve been acting longer than him, but he’s already too high.”
The comments passed from corner to corner. Even those who pretended not to look were clearly peeking from the sides of their eyes. Even the ones who had worked with him before felt like his aura was different.
Even more different than before.
Risa’s heart thudded against her chest. He’s here. Goodness.
She had suspected it, and of course, hoped for it, but seeing him in the flesh among this absurdly stacked cast made her palms sweat. If Zeno were here, then what on earth would this production be?
Zeno’s gaze scanned the room, taking mental inventory. He noticed the scattered groupings, the hushed tension, and, of course, the circle of people he had worked with before.
Naturally, he walked over.
Ian grinned the moment he joined them. “Zeno, you came!”
Zeno gave him a nod. “Ian.”
Risa cleared her throat. “Hi, Zeno.”
He turned to her with a soft, neutral expression. “Hey.”
Hero, meanwhile, was frozen. His jaw was quite literally slack.
Zeno glanced at him once.
Hero began to hiccup.
” I-uh—so… charming,” Hero muttered helplessly before immediately slapping a hand over his own mouth. The rest of the circle stifled quiet laughter. Zeno didn’t react, but the corners of his lips twitched.
They all stood for a moment in a contemplative silence. Zeno’s gaze roamed again.
“What do you think this is?” Misha asked suddenly, also trying to hide her nervousness. After their kissing scene in the Ninth Circle, she hadn’t been normal.
“It’s probably not a movie,” Ian speculated. “There are too many people. Too many main-character-material types.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of drama with rotating leads?” Risa suggested. “Every episode’s about someone different?”
“I’ve seen that done,” Suho murmured. “But never with this many people.”
Zeno stayed quiet, hands tucked in his pockets.
The door opened again.
The sound echoed louder than before.
The figure who entered made everyone stop.
Phoenix.
He stepped in, long coat brushing his boots.
“Oh my god,” someone whispered. “Phoenix, too?”
“This is getting too hard to predict,” another murmured.
Phoenix’s sharp gaze landed straight on Zeno. Their eyes locked, tension crackling in the space between them.
Before anyone could breathe too deeply, the door opened again.
And this time, it was more shocking than ever.
“Wait—Shin Pyeon?” someone gasped.
“Is that—Sangwon?”
Two older men entered the space.
“Why are they even here?” Ian muttered.
Zeno’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the room—now nearly packed with talent. From influencers to industry titans. New blood to old kings.
And that’s when he noticed it.
In the corners.
Tucked into beams. Behind plants. Between panels.
Tiny, blinking lights.
Cameras.
Zeno stared at the nearest one, its red light blinking steadily like a metronome, and finally understood.
They hadn’t gathered the cast to start the show.
No.
The show had already started.