"OK."
Director Sarah's voice was a fraction softer than before. "Next scene. The monologue."
Cassius stood up and walked to an empty space next to him, representing his rented room.
He took a deep breath, as if calibrating his emotional state.
Action!
Cassius silently cued himself.
Instantly, a slightly exaggerated smile plastered onto his face. He waved at the air, speaking in accented but deliberately clear English:
"Mom, I'm good! My classmates are really friendly... Yeah, I ate. Pizza... Not tired, keeping up with studies..."
He spoke a little too fast, and the smile carried a rigidness, like it was being held in place by sheer will.
He wasn't acting "happy."
He was acting someone trying to act happy.
Suddenly, he paused, as if the video call had ended.
The smile vanished from his face like a retreating tide—fast.
His entire presence shifted instantly from forced positivity to hollow emptiness.
He didn't break down immediately. There were a few seconds of stasis.
The light in his eyes went out. His shoulders slumped slightly—the posture of someone whose energy had been completely drained.
Then, he slowly sank down, as if his legs could no longer support his weight.
He lowered his head and buried his fingers in his hair.
No crying sounds. Only his shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably.
His breathing became heavy and suppressed, as if something was blocking his chest.
After a moment.
A stifled, choked gasp squeezed out of his throat.
Short and painful.
He didn't wail. He didn't scream his lungs out.
But this silent collapse hit harder than any noise could.
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with sadness and loneliness as his performance unfolded.
End of monologue.
Cassius stayed crouched there, head down, rapidly adjusting his breathing to pull himself out of the character's emotional state.
His upgraded emotional control allowed him to dive deep but also pull out relatively quickly, preventing him from getting stuck in the abyss.
The room fell silent again.
Director Sarah had taken off her glasses and was rubbing the bridge of her nose.
The Asian man, who had been expressionless the whole time, was now looking at Cassius with completely new eyes.
And Rob's mouth was slightly agape. He looked at Cassius, then at the resume in his hand, his eyes full of shock.
WTF?
When did this kid evolve?
"Holy sht," Rob muttered under his breath. It was quiet, but in the silent room, it was clear as day.
Director Sarah put her glasses back on, cleared her throat, and tried to regain her professional composure.
"Mr. Cass, your performance had a lot of layers. Can you talk about your understanding of the character 'Li'?"
Cassius stood up. His breathing was steady again. Utilizing his [Gravitas], he answered with humble confidence:
"I think Li's loneliness doesn't just come from language or culture. It comes from a sense of suspension. He can't truly integrate here, but he also feels disconnected from the person he used to be."
"His breakdown isn't from a single blow. It's the inevitable result of countless tiny disappointments piling up."
The Asian man spoke for the first time, his voice deep.
"Your silence just now had more power than most people's dialogue. How did you do that?"
With a cheat code, Cassius thought.
But out loud, he said modestly:
"I tried to feel the emotion itself, rather than thinking about how to act it out."
Half-truth, half-BS, but it sounded profound.
Director Sarah and the Asian man exchanged a glance. Then she turned to Cassius.
"Very good. Thank you for your performance. We'll let you know the results as soon as possible."
Cassius bowed politely, turned, and left the audition room.
The moment the door closed, he thought he heard the murmur of discussion start up inside.
Walking out of the warehouse, the LA sun was blinding.
Cassius let out a long breath. He felt like he had just fought a war.
Whatever the result, he gave it his all.
And he could clearly feel that his performance had exceeded Rob's expectations—and even his own.
On the bus ride back.
He replayed the performance in his head.
The feeling of precisely summoning emotions and controlling his body's subtle reactions was intoxicating.
Was this the confidence that came with skill?
He subconsciously pulled up his panel.
He discovered that during the audition, he had actually dropped an attribute orb.
Probably from one of the judges: [Presence Attribute: Scrutiny +1].
He had absorbed it instinctively!
Over the last month, absorbing any orb within range had become a physical reflex.
When he got back to the apartment, he found Lee So-yeon pacing anxiously in the living room.
"How was it? How was it?"
The moment she saw him, she rushed over, more nervous than if it were her own audition.
"Did Rob's jaw drop? Did you use the 'broken eyes' look I told you about?"
Cassius took off his jacket and collapsed onto the sofa lazily.
"It was alright. Rob did seem a little surprised."
"Only a little surprised?"
Lee So-yeon pouted, dissatisfied. "You definitely didn't sell it hard enough! I told you, indie films eat that stuff up!"
"You have to be fragile! Sensitive! You have to make those middle-class white audiences feel sympathy for the 'poor Asian boy'!"
Cassius didn't bother explaining that his core philosophy was authenticity, not selling pity.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
It was a text from Rob. Short and sweet:
Rob: Kid, did you take the wrong meds today? You were damn good. Wait for news.
Looking at the message, so typical of Rob's style, the corners of Cassius's mouth finally curled up into a clear smile.
He knew he had a shot.
---
But after that "Wait for news" text, Rob went radio silent.
Cassius spent two restless days.
While he continued to be a human background prop on the corner of Santa Monica, he couldn't help checking his phone every ten minutes, terrified of missing an unknown number.
Just as he was starting to think the audition was just a beautiful accident in his career...
The phone rang!
The name flashing on the screen was Rob.
"Hey, Asia Boy!"
Rob's voice still had that rough, gravelly tone, but there was something else in it now—it wasn't just strictly business.
"Get ready to buy me Starbucks. The most expensive kind."
Cassius's heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to stay calm. "News?"
"The role of Li is yours!"
Rob said it cleanly and decisively.
"Director Sarah and the producers were very happy with your audition, especially the monologue. I sent the contract and the digital script to your email. The pay isn't high—it's indie, you know—but kid, you landed yourself a real role."
Even though he had a hunch, confirming it felt unbelievable.
Cassius gripped the phone tight, keeping his voice steady.
"Thanks, Rob."
"Don't thank me. You earned it."
Rob chuckled on the other end.
"Seriously, Cass. I haven't seen you in a month. Did you go into seclusion with some Method acting guru?"
"Your improvement is scary."
"Get ready. We start next Monday. Three-week shoot. Check your email for location and details!"
After hanging up, Cassius stood frozen.
Watching the bustling crowd on Santa Monica street—people struggling for a few dozen bucks a day—it felt like he had just woken up from a dream.
He was a USC dropout who almost got deported back to Asia. And now, he had actually landed a named role with a story in Hollywood!