After Raiquèn received the file—with Mika's guidance—she immediately began to read it.
The plot of the movie was titled "The Butcher." A thriller, psychological in tone, far darker than anything she had ever imagined herself in.
Her role: the daughter of the Count Earl's family. Her most crucial scene would be the moment she returned home from school, only to discover the butchered remains of her father and mother scattered grotesquely across her room.
"Isn't this… a bit intense?" Raiquèn whispered, her brows furrowing as her small fingers clutched the pages of the script.
Professor Wren gave a low chuckle, her voice rich with amusement.
"You're right. It is intense. And that's why you'll need to pour every ounce of skill you've learned into it. This isn't about simply looking sad—it's about making people believe you've lost everything."
"Hm…" Raiquèn hummed softly, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
"Will you try?" her professor asked, leaning forward slightly. "Show me how you would execute that scene."
"Okay…" Raiquèn set the file aside carefully, her young face unusually solemn. She pressed her palms together, trying to steady herself.
A girl… my age… losing her family. Coming home to find their bodies scattered before her eyes…
She closed her eyes. A long, deep exhale escaped her lips.
"Action," Professor Wren said firmly.
Raiquèn's eyes snapped open. Her shoulders sagged with shock, her gaze widening with raw terror. Her lips parted, trembling as though words were trapped inside her throat, unable to escape. A faint whimper touched her voice.
"Mm…" Professor Wren tilted her head, then raised a hand gently.
"Okay, stop."
Raiquèn blinked, her expression collapsing into confusion.
"That was good," Wren said slowly, "but still a bit… off. Tell me, what did you think of when you tried to express those emotions?"
"I… I just thought about the girl in the script. I tried to imagine her situation."
"Ah." Wren tapped her chin, studying Raiquèn carefully.
"That probably won't be enough. You're keeping the pain outside of yourself, as though it belongs to someone else. What you need is immersion."
Raiquèn tilted her head. "Immersion?"
"Yes." The professor's eyes gleamed knowingly.
"Don't think about her situation. Place yourself in it. See your own parents… your own home. Lose yourself in it, even if it hurts. That's where true acting lives."
Raiquèn swallowed hard. Her fingers clenched against her skirt.
"I… I'll do that."
A week passed in a blur, and now the day of the shoot had arrived.
Inside the van, Raiquèn sat stiffly with her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"Are you nervous?" Mika asked, watching her from the corner of her eye.
"Haha, a bit… it's my first time." Raiquèn giggled, though the sound was thin—more an attempt to mask her unease than anything else.
"You'll be fine. Don't worry too much!" Mika said warmly, squeezing her shoulder.
But instead of relief, Raiquèn only felt the weight of expectation press harder on her chest.
When they finally arrived at the shooting location, Raiquèn's golden eyes widened. The place was alive with motion—staff bustling about, heavy equipment wheeled across the gravel, and open tents pitched around a grand, looming house. The air thrummed with the controlled chaos of filmmaking.
"Woah…" she whispered under her breath, drinking it all in.
"Come on. I'll introduce you to the director," Mika gestured.
They wove through the cluster of crew until they reached one of the larger tents.
"Director Meina!" Mika called, her voice bright with familiarity. She reached out, shaking hands with a woman who looked to be in her late thirties.
"Mika! It's been a while. How have you been?" Director Meina replied, her voice sharp yet polished.
Then her gaze slid past Mika, landing on Raiquèn.
"And who's this?" she asked, tone shifting, curious yet guarded.
"O-oh…" Raiquèn stepped forward slightly, bowing her head politely.
"Hello. I'm Raiquèn Ignazio-Kanazora." Her smile was small, awkward, betraying the nerves quivering inside her.
"Ah. Sera's niece," Meina said with a smile.
But something about it made Raiquèn pause—it was pleasant enough on the surface, but behind it lingered a faint sharpness, like the curve of a knife hidden under silk.
Raiquèn forced her lips to hold the smile, even as her heart beat faster.
"You're going to be the Count's daughter, right?" Meina asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as if appraising Raiquèn.
"Y-yes…" Raiquèn's voice wavered just a little, betraying her nerves.
"I see." Meina's expression didn't soften. "Then I'll see you in the actual shoot."
The director turned her back, dismissing her with a cold finality.
Raiquèn froze for a second, lips pressing together before she sighed softly.
What's her deal… she thought, her chest tightening with doubt.
A gentle pat landed on her head. Mika smiled at her, though there was an edge of sympathy in her eyes.
"Don't be so down. Show her what you can do, okay?"
"…Okay." Raiquèn nodded, though her tone was subdued.
Mika gave her a little nudge and led her toward another tent. Inside, the air smelled faintly of powder and perfume, mirrors ringed with warm lights reflecting the bustle of makeup artists at work.
"This is where you'll have your makeover," Mika said.
Raiquèn stepped inside, her golden eyes flitting nervously across the unfamiliar tools, the rows of wigs, and the half-open garment racks holding costumes for the shoot.
Then the makeover began. A young staff member with a cheerful smile introduced herself as Kylie before guiding Raiquèn to the chair.
"Oh, what a lovely eye color you have!" Kylie said as she carefully brushed through Raiquèn's hair.
"T-thank you," Raiquèn replied shyly, her voice small but warm. Compliments always made her flustered.
Kylie tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as if studying a canvas.
"Hm? Since you have naturally red hair, you won't need any wigs."
She reached forward, running her fingers gently over the strands that glowed like copper beneath the mirror lights.
"Oh…" Raiquèn muttered, unsure of what else to say. She wasn't used to strangers admiring her features so directly.
"You also won't need contacts," Kylie added, leaning closer to peer at Raiquèn's golden irises. "They're striking enough on their own. Do you have any skin allergies?" she asked, already rummaging through the trays of foundation and brushes.
"I don't think so," Raiquèn answered, watching nervously as Kylie picked out palettes and powders.
"Perfect," Kylie said with a soft smile. "Then I'll start doing your makeup now, okay?"
"O-okay…" Raiquèn murmured, folding her hands together on her lap.
As Kylie dabbed foundation across her skin, Raiquèn's reflection slowly transformed. Each brushstroke, each careful touch felt like she was being peeled away from herself and rebuilt as someone else. The thought made her heart race.
This is really happening… I'm going to be on camera.
Once her makeup was finished, Raiquèn was guided to the wardrobe tent. There, they helped her into a pale, laced dress suited for the historical era the film was set in. The fabric felt heavy on her shoulders, unlike anything she normally wore, but it made her stand straighter—like she truly belonged to another world.
Soon after, a crew member called her out toward the shooting location.
Stepping into the mansion, Raiquèn's golden eyes widened. The grand chandelier above, the ornate staircase, and the gilded walls looked like something out of a painting. But it wasn't just the mansion that struck her—it was the sheer number of people working inside it. Large cameras rolled into position, lights shifted, and staff members hurried in and out, their voices overlapping.
"Woah…" she breathed softly, unable to stop herself.
Nearby, whispers floated her way.
"Hm? Who's that?" one staff member muttered.
"She'll be playing an extra, the Count's Daughter, I think," another replied.
"A nameless actress?"
"Probably used a connection to sneak in. You know how it is—those types who shamelessly rely on family wealth, even if they don't have any real talent."
"Shhh! Stop gossiping while we're in the scene. If the director catches you—"
Raiquèn's lips pressed together. She forced herself to look elsewhere, though her chest tightened.
How could they so easily assume that…?
"They're annoying."
The sudden voice made her jump slightly. Turning, she found a boy standing just beside her. His jet-black hair framed his face in a curtain style, but his eyes—a warm, light brown—held a gentle ease. Something about his features, sun-kissed and sharp, suggested a Latino heritage.
"Don't mind them," he added calmly.
"Eh? Sorry?" Raiquèn blurted out, caught off guard.
The boy glanced at her and smiled, a little lopsided but kind. "I'm Luther. I'll also be acting as an extra later."
"Oh… I'm Raiquèn," she replied, mirroring his smile awkwardly, her nervousness peeking through.
"Well then, good luck, Raiquèn," he said simply before turning his back to rejoin the bustle.
Left behind, she blinked at his retreating figure, her lips tugging into the faintest smile.
From a distance, Director Meina's sharp eyes lingered on Raiquèn's small figure.
Hm. Sera said her niece has talent… but all I see is a child fidgeting, nerves written all over her face.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms. If it hadn't been Sera who asked, I would have declined this immediately.
Meina let out a slow exhale, glancing down at the script in her hand.
This scene is crucial—it sets the tone for the entire film. The moment that hooks the audience, that builds the intensity for everything that follows.
Her gaze returned to Raiquèn, who stood stiffly under the lights, still adjusting to her costume.
And I'm supposed to leave that responsibility to… this amateur kid?
Meina's eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt flashing through them.
What on earth was I thinking, letting someone like her carry such an important part?
Meina exhaled deeply before speaking out loud.
"Okay, stand by! We'll start in 3 minutes!"
Well, she is already here. Let's just see what kind of childish act she will show to me. I'll prepare myself to be disappointed.