Thunder echoed distantly, a low growl rolling through the bones of the CineNova. The screen remained blank, vast and silent. Silver sat unmoving in his favorite seat, arms folded across his chest, eyes reflecting memories.
Then—
A soft creak.
Silver stiffened.
He wasn't alone anymore.
To his right, a man sat in seat D6, directly to his right. Silver blinked. He could have sworn no one else had come in. The doors never opened. No footsteps echoed through the rows. Yet… there he was.
An old man. Ancient, even.
He wore a long robe with tattered edges, and had a white ponytail trailing down his back. His beard was similarly long and white, flowing past his chest. His earlobes stretched low.
The old man stared at the dark screen, as if it still played something only he could see.
Silver opened his mouth, then closed it. Something about the man radiated presence—not danger, but weight.
Without turning, the man spoke, his voice low and raspy but strangely melodic.
"This seat… still creaks like it did fifty years ago."
He smiled softly. "Back then, they played musical theatre here. The piano played, actors moving gracefully… and my heart would race with them as they fight dragons."
Silver turned slowly toward him. "You… used to come here?"
"Oh yes. CineNova was one of my escape back then. When the world outside became too loud, I came here to freshen my horizon." He chuckled, a wheezy but warm sound. "I even watched my first movie here—"The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari". Terrible acting, but it was ahead of its time."
Silver leaned in slightly, curiosity blooming. "So, what happened? Why'd you stop coming?"
The old man tilted his head, still smiling. "Life. Duty. Roads that led far from theatres and buttered popcorn. But I never forgot this place. And now, it seems it found you."
Silver glanced at the dusty seats, the faded curtains. "It's not just a theater for me. It's… everything. Like when the lights dim and the film starts, the whole world changes. Even if just for two hours."
The old man finally turned to him. His eyes were sharp—unnaturally sharp.
"There was a time when this cinema wasn't just displaying movies…" he said softly. "It "retells" them."
Silver frowned. "What do you mean?"
But the man didn't answer right away. He looked up at the ceiling where an old projector is hanging. "Some places become more than brick and paint. CineNova… has always been a gate. To things most people can't see."
He looked at Silver now, directly, seriously.
"One day you might be able to see them. Like Alric"
Silver opened his mouth—questions clawing to get out—but just then, lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating the theater.
When darkness returned—
The old man was gone. Seat D6 was empty. On it is a card that says, "Hunter Exam Application Card".
Silver looked around in a panic, heart thudding. "What the hell…?"
Only the faintest echo of a voice lingered in the silence:
"Next time… bring popcorn."
...
By the time Silver returned home, rain tapped steadily against the windows. He stepped through the front door quietly, hoodie soaked and clinging to him. He tried to sneak in unnoticed—but the lights flicked on.
Rina Curtis stood in the hallway, arms crossed, still wearing her old CineNova staff shirt. Her eyes—usually soft and warm—were tired and sharp.
"You're late," she said.
From the living room came Alric's voice, firmer. "Way too late."
Silver winced. "I stayed to clean. Theater was messy."
"We were worried." Rina said, walking closer.
Silver kicked off his shoes. "I wasn't out messing around. I was at the theater the whole time."
Alric stepped into the hall, drying his hands on a towel. "Then why do you look soo excited?"
Silver hesitated, then reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.
A red card—smooth, solid, and trimmed in shimmering gold. In the center was a symbol XX, in the middle is filled red like a diamond.
"This guy showed up," Silver said. "In Theater One. Old man. White ponytail, beard to his chest, stretched ears. Said he used to go to the theatre here when he was young."
He held up the card.
"And before he disappeared, he gave me this."
A heavy silence fell.
Rina's eyes widened.
Alric stepped forward and took the card from Silver's hand. He flipped it over, inspecting it with growing unease.
"This is… a Hunter Association preliminary registration card," he said, voice low.
Rina's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no."
Silver's heart beat faster. "It's real, isn't it?"
Alric's jaw tightened. "Yes. And that means you're not going anywhere near it."
"What? Why not?! This could be the answer—we need money, we need something big. If I pass, I could fix the theater, save it—"
"No." Alric's voice cut like a blade. "You think being a Hunter is some kind of shortcut? A solution to all our problems?"
"I think it's a chance," Silver argued. "A real one."
Rina shook her head. "Silver… the Hunter Exam is one of the most dangerous paths a person can take. You don't understand the risks."
Silver looked between them, jaw tight. "This is about Grandpa, isn't it?"
Alric's gaze darkened.
"Fred Curtis," Silver pressed. "He was a Hunter. Wasn't he?"
Rina lowered her eyes. Alric's voice came quiet.
"Yes. He was." Alric sighed.
"When I was a boy," Alric continued, "he told me the world was filled with stories no movie could capture. He would show it in CineNova like we were part of the story. Even now I don't know how he does it. I've been looking for the films, but i never found it." He shook his head.
"But one day," Rina said softly, "he left. He said that he had to find new stories to tell. Something that would bring CineNova back to life."
Alric's voice turned bitter. "He promised he'd return with inspiration that would 'make the world remember how to dream.'"
Silver swallowed. "And he never came back."
Alric nodded. "Not a trace. Just gone."
Alric looked at the card again. It pulsed faintly in his hand.
"I'm not Grandpa Fred," he said, steady now. "But I believe in CineNova, just like he did. And if there's something out there that can save it… I want to find it."
Alric stared at him for a long, quiet moment.
"Go to bed, Silver," he said. "It's late, we'll talk tomorrow."
...
Later that night, Silver lay awake, the card on his mind like a burning question. Outside, the rain splash against the glass.
He understood their fear. But fear had never built anything great.