The morning mist in Eldoria was cold, but the steam rising from the departing train felt even sharper. Aris stood on the platform, clutching a single leather suitcase. He had completely wiped away his stage makeup, yet he felt more exposed than ever. He walked toward the man in the gray coat, Julian, who was waiting by the first-class carriage.
"You came," Julian said, offering a faint, professional smile. "Studio Aethalgard, the greatest power in Lumina, is waiting for you. Sign this, Aris; you aren't just taking a job, you're changing your destiny."
Aris looked down at the heavy, elegant contract placed before him. As he picked up the pen, his fingers trembled for a fleeting second. On stage, he was a man who lived only for the moment; however, this piece of paper was purchasing his entire future. The moment the ink touched the parchment, a strange clarity washed over his mind. It was as if a window that had been fogged for years had suddenly been wiped clean.
As the train began to move, Julian quietly returned to his newspaper. Aris looked out the window, and that was when he first noticed the shift in his mind. He wasn't just looking at the old man sitting across the aisle; by observing the way the man gripped his hands, the slight wear on his jacket, and the dull vacancy in his eyes, Aris began to see the man's entire past play out like a film strip.
This was what Aris called "The Sight." By merely observing a person's micro-expression, he could feel their childhood fears, a lost loved one, or a secret grief hidden deep within their heart. It wasn't supernatural magic; it was the ultimate peak of an actor's power of observation. Aris no longer needed to "study" a character; he only had to look at one.
"Are you alright?" Julian asked, without lifting his head from the paper. "You've gone pale."
Aris knew he could never share this internal discovery with anyone. If he did, they wouldn't call him a genius—they would call him a madman. "Just a bit nervous," Aris replied, keeping his voice steady.
But his thoughts were elsewhere. Aris could now see right through Julian's polished, professional mask. He sensed the man's cold ambition and the flicker of guilt from someone he had disappointed long ago. Aris now possessed the absolute understanding that was both an actor's greatest blessing and his heaviest burden.
As the neon towers of Lumina and the massive logos of Studio Aethalgard appeared on the horizon, Aris knew he was no longer just a performer. He was a living mirror, capable of reading human souls and reflecting them perfectly before a camera.