Raiquèn was told to stand by at the shooting scene.
The staff murmured among themselves, but their whispers quickly died when Director Meina entered. With a script in hand, Meina skimmed through the pages once more before fixing her eyes on Raiquèn.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her tone clipped and cold.
"Y-yes…" Raiquèn replied, her voice betraying her nerves.
Meina exhaled sharply, then moved to sit with the crew, her expression unreadable.
She didn't need to make it that obvious… Raiquèn thought, forcing herself to push the sting aside.
"Scene one! Camera ready?" Meina called out.
"Ready!" the cameramen chorused.
"Ready!" the cameramen chorused.
Raiquèn inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill and steady her. She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning calm.
I'm ready to be disappointed, Meina thought, flicking her hand lazily.
"Lights! Camera! Action!"
Raiquèn's eyes opened—and at once, the atmosphere shifted. It was as if she stepped into another skin, the nervous girl gone in an instant.
Meina's eyes widened ever so slightly, startled by the transformation.
"Mother! Father!" Raiquèn's voice rang out, bright and warm, perfectly capturing the script's intent.
She pushed open the wide doors to the grand hallway of the mansion, moving with a natural ease as though she had always belonged in this world.
"Huh? That's strange." Her gaze swept across the empty space, her tone carrying the perfect balance of curiosity and innocence.
"Where are the maids? They can't all be on break at this hour…" she murmured, stepping slowly, her movements unforced, instinctive.
She's doing well so far, Meina admitted to herself, watching closely. But the real test begins now.
Raiquèn halted in front of a large, imposing door.
This is it… the most important part. Her hand lingered on the handle for a beat, her breath catching.
Then, with deliberate slowness, she pushed the door open.
The door creaked open, its hinges groaning as if reluctant to reveal the nightmare beyond.
Inside lay the butchered remains of her parents—props crafted with chilling precision, but under the lights they might as well have been real.
"Camera… focus on her face," Meina whispered, her voice low, almost reverent.
Raiquèn froze. Slowly, her golden eyes widened, their light dimming with disbelief. Her lips parted, trembling as shallow breaths escaped her. Her chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm, as though her body itself rejected what it was seeing.
Yes… don't rush it. Let the horror bloom at its own pace… Meina urged silently, unknowingly holding her breath.
Then it came—sudden and piercing. Raiquèn's scream tore through the set, raw and unrestrained, shaking the silence into shards. Her face twisted with terror so visceral that the crew flinched, goosebumps prickling their skin.
Tears spilled freely, unbidden, streaking her cheeks with a purity that no rehearsal could mimic. They were not forced—not conjured, but born.
"M-Mother? F-Father?" Her voice cracked, fragile as glass, each syllable trembling with disbelief.
Her knees weakened. A hand flew to her lips, her entire frame quivering. And then—the nausea, the sickness that crawled up her throat. It wasn't written in the script, but it was true. Her professor's lesson echoed in her bones.
Don't imagine the girl. Be the girl.
And so she was.
She was no longer Raiquèn standing on a set in borrowed clothes—she was a child whose world had shattered in the span of a heartbeat.
"A… method actress?"
A method actress is an actress who uses a style of acting called method acting, which is all about deeply immersing oneself into the character—emotionally, mentally, and sometimes even physically—so the performance feels as real and natural as possible.
Meina thought numbly, her skin prickling. She could not tear her gaze away. This wasn't performance. This was possession.
The room, the crew, the cameras—all faded into silence. Only one truth remained: this child could bleed emotions so real, they swallowed everyone whole.
"Cut!" Meina's voice rang out, sharp and decisive.
As if a spell had been broken, the set snapped back into reality. The crew blinked, exchanging startled glances.
"Huh? Only one take? That's unusual," one mumbled, still dazed.
"Isn't that good? At least we don't waste time retaking," another replied, though his tone betrayed awe.
"But that kid… incredible. What was her name again?"
"I don't know, man. Ask the director later."
"She's got a bright future—gave me literal goosebumps."
Amid the murmurs, Raiquèn leaned against the wall, her head pounding faintly.
Did I… overdo it? Her palm pressed to the wall for balance.
"Rai!!! That was amazing!" Mika burst through the quiet, rushing to her side, her eyes gleaming with pride.
"Are you okay?" she added quickly.
"I'm fine… I think my throat's just dry." Raiquèn forced a small smile.
"Hold on, I'll grab you some water." Mika dashed off.
My eyes sting… I wonder how it really looked, she thought, rubbing at her lashes, still dazed from the intensity of it all.
"Raiquèn?"
"Yes?" She looked up with a bright, instinctive smile—only for it to falter when she realized it was the director.
Oh no… I can't read her face. Did I… disappoint her?
"That was… marvelous!" Meina's stern expression shattered into pure radiance.
"P-Pardon?" Raiquèn blinked, dumbfounded.
"Your acting! It was—oh, how do I even put it into words? You breathed life into my script!"
Meina gushed, her hands fluttering as if words alone couldn't contain her excitement.
"O-oh… uhmm… Thank you." Raiquèn flushed, caught off guard by the sudden wave of praise.
"Where have you been hiding those skills? My goodness, it feels like a waste that I only gave you this part of the film!" Meina laughed in disbelief, shaking her head.
"You must have been training for years to summon something so natural, so raw!"
Raiquèn tilted her head innocently. "Oh? But I've only been taking acting lessons for half a year."
The air stilled.
"…Half a year!?" Meina's jaw nearly dropped.
"Yes, she has." Mika returned, thrusting a water bottle into Raiquèn's hand with a smug grin.
"Isn't Sera's niece talented?"
"I can't… I can't believe it…" Meina murmured, still staring at Raiquèn as though she had unearthed a rare gem.
Meanwhile, Raiquèn only sipped her water quietly, still utterly unaware of the weight of what she had just done.
"But this isn't her first time acting, right? Otherwise—" Meina began, still doubtful.
"It is her first time acting though," Mika interrupted, tilting her head innocently as if stating the most ordinary truth.
Goosebumps crawled over Meina's skin. Her gaze slid back to Raiquèn, who sat there sipping water, her expression soft and childlike—so far removed from the girl who, moments ago, had embodied raw grief so convincingly.
What in the world… her first time? And yet she summoned emotions so naturally, as if she had lived them…
At that exact moment, Meina knew: she could not let this child slip away, not without a bond, not without anchoring her talent to something lasting.
"Say, Rai," Meina crouched down slightly to meet her eyes, her sternness replaced by a rare warmth.
"If you were offered more side roles or extra jobs… would you accept them?"
Raiquèn blinked, then gave a shy smile. "Uhm… sure? I would love to."
Meina's lips curved into a satisfied smile. She handed over a sleek calling card.
"Then make sure to give me a call when you get home. I'll save your number."
With a playful wink, almost motherly in its charm, she rose to her feet and walked off.
"Isn't that great, Raiii?" Mika beamed, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Mhm." Raiquèn nodded, her own lips tugging into a warm, gentle smile.
Does this mean… I'll get to act more?
The thought bloomed inside her, filling her chest with quiet joy. She stifled a giggle, cheeks lifting.
I cannot wait.
But amid the scattering crowd, a pair of sharp brown eyes lingered on her. Watching. Calculating.
"That's… amazing," a low voice murmured.
"What is, Lu?" A woman in a tailored suit stepped closer, her posture protective.
"Her acting. It was extraordinary." Luther's gaze never left Raiquèn.
"You're right," the bodyguard admitted. "It's unbelievable that talent like hers could remain unnoticed by the world."
"Say," Luther finally tore his eyes from the stage, glancing up at her. "Will you ask the director for a copy of that clip? I want to show it to my sister."
The bodyguard stiffened. "Young Master… don't tell me you're planning to—"
"Shh." His tone was sharp, brooking no argument. "Just do as I say. We cannot let another company take her. You saw it too."
The woman swallowed hard.
"With a little polish," Luther continued, his expression unreadable yet firm, "her acting could rival that so-called genius child actress the industry won't stop buzzing about."
"…Understood, Young Master." She bowed her head, voice carrying the weight of reluctant respect.