"I'm sorry… It's all my fault."
"One day, I will obtain the Holy Grail."
"The one meant to be king… was never me."
Jing Yu frowned slightly as he finished watching the performance by a young actress named Lin Ai.
Of the three most popular characters in 'Fate/Zero'—the King of Heroes, Artoria, and the King of Conquerors—Jing Yu had already cast himself as the King of Heroes. The role of Alexander, the King of Conquerors, was already filled by the popular middle-aged actor Han Wenyu, known for his towering stature and tough-guy screen persona.
So at this audition, Jing Yu's real focus was clear: Artoria.
Characters like Kirei Kotomine, Kiritsugu Emiya, and Waver Velvet were all relatively easier to cast. But Artoria…
She was on another level entirely.
In terms of acting, she wasn't that hard to portray. Most of the time, "Ahoge King" (Jing Yu's nickname for Artoria) wore a solemn and dignified expression. Her emotional range was fairly restrained. The few truly challenging scenes in 'Fate/Zero' included the Three Kings' conversation, the moment Kiritsugu rigged the fight against Lancer, and the ending—
The Holy Grail War concludes. She defeats Lancelot. Alone, she returns to her era, crying as she delivers that final monologue—the exact scene used for today's audition.
But this was already the fourth auditionee.
Everyone here had already passed the bar for acting—Jing Yu had yet to see anyone bad. The issue was how high their ceiling could go.
And so far—
That kind of aura where someone walks in and instantly is the heroine…
That feeling of assurance, of "this is Artoria"…
He hadn't seen it. Not once.
"So it's true—casting is the biggest hurdle in adapting anything from anime or games," Jing Yu sighed.
He had worked with Yu Youqing and Xia Yining so many times precisely because they had that intangible quality—something reminiscent of anime heroines. But even they… didn't quite capture Artoria's spirit.
He'd hoped someone from this audition round might get closer, but…
"What's wrong? Still not satisfied?" Cheng Lie whispered beside him.
"I thought some of them were pretty good."
"They're not bad," Jing Yu replied. "It's just… say my mental image of Artoria scores a 100. The highest anyone here's scored so far is in the fifties. Maybe with makeup and a custom costume, they could hit the mid-sixties."
If he used some visual filters or props, maybe the final presentation could hit 70 or 80.
But Jing Yu wasn't willing to settle.
"That big of a gap?" Cheng Lie blinked in surprise.
He knew that Jing Yu had a personal scoring system for casting.
For minor characters, Jing Yu was flexible—if someone scored above 65 even without makeup, that was acceptable.
But for the main characters, Jing Yu's minimum was 75, ideally over 80 after styling.
And now? Even raw performances were barely reaching the 50s.
"I mean, come on," Cheng Lie said. "Some of them were pretty solid. Like Tang Ning—she's a star. You didn't even think she passed?"
"Nope," Jing Yu replied flatly.
"She was the worst. Probably because she's done too many romance dramas. That bratty, spoiled vibe just leaks out. Artoria would never cry like that—with tears streaming down, begging for hugs and comfort. It was embarrassing."
That savage critique made the director and assistant director purse their lips to stifle laughter, afraid to let it slip in front of Jing Yu.
"Ahoge King, huh…" Cheng Lie paused for two seconds, then accepted the nickname Jing Yu had bestowed on Artoria.
The auditions continued.
The Artoria scene was short—less than a minute. Though actors didn't have access to the full script, the context of the scene was clearly marked: where and when Artoria was delivering those lines.
By the end of the day, eighteen candidates had completed auditions.
Jing Yu glanced down at his notebook:
Gu Jialu, third-year student at Imperial Capital Film Academy — 67 points.
That was the highest score anyone had earned for the role of Artoria that day.
Cheng Lie glanced over and winced.
He had been in charge of screening the candidates, and now felt a bit guilty. So many applicants, and this was the result?
"Forget it," Jing Yu took a deep breath. "I expected this."
"It's not your fault. Let's just keep the rest of the auditions moving."
By evening, Jing Yu emerged from the venue looking exhausted.
The hundred-plus actors who had shown up were now gradually leaving, waiting at home for callbacks.
Aside from Artoria, most of the other roles had promising candidates lined up.
"So? Should I start planning a second round of auditions for Artoria?" Cheng Lie asked.
"I'll admit it—this time, the prep work was on me," he added, a bit sheepishly.
"No, it's not your fault," Jing Yu replied, patting his shoulder. "The real issue is that I've set my expectations too high. Flaws that should only deduct one or two points end up feeling like five or ten to me."
"But that's just how it is in drama production. You rarely find someone who's a perfect match. And chasing perfection too hard… well, that's its own kind of illness."
Then Jing Yu's expression shifted.
"But for the role of Artoria, yeah—we'll need a dedicated second audition round. And this time, we don't limit ourselves to film students or known celebrities. Open it up to stage actors, or even self-taught amateurs. If someone shows potential, I want to see them."
"For this role, fitting the character is everything. We don't need the actress to bring in popularity—if the show airs properly, her popularity will come naturally."
After all, Jing Yu had already invested over 200 million yuan in 'Fate/Zero'. Spending a bit more time to find the right female lead was well worth it.
But at the latest, filming had to begin by mid-June. Any later, and the post-production timeline would fall apart.
"I'm free until mid-June," Jing Yu confirmed.
"Understood. I'll start contacting industry contacts tomorrow and see who they can recommend. Also, tell me exactly what bothered you about the candidates today. I'll make sure we don't waste your time again."