The next day, rehearsals began for a historical short film.
He was playing a silent laborer. He only had one line, but the role required him to convey resilience in the face of oppression.
Drawing on the insights from his upgraded "Emotional Stats," Cassius delivered a performance that was strikingly vivid—portraying a man beaten down by hardship yet possessing an unyielding gaze.
During a break, an old professor with gray hair and a vest, hands clasped behind his back, walked over to inspect the set, surrounded by a flock of students.
He was a senior professor at the film academy and the mentor of this short film's instructor—a man of high standing.
Watching the playback of Cassius's performance on the monitor, the old professor nodded slightly and said to the instructor, "Good choice on the laborer. There's substance in his eyes. He doesn't look like a student."
The instructor quickly replied, "Professor, he isn't a current student. He's an actor we hired from outside named Cassius. He actually used to attend our school."
The old professor paused, adjusted his glasses, and looked closely at Cassius, who was drinking water in the center of the set.
The more he looked, the more familiar the young man seemed.
Cassius noticed the gaze and turned his head, his eyes locking with the old professor's.
His heart skipped a beat.
It was Professor Anderson, who had taught him Film History and Fundamentals of Acting. He was an old man known for being strict but appreciative of talent.
When Cassius dropped out back in the day, he hadn't even dared to tell this professor to his face.
Professor Anderson walked over, looking Cassius up and down with a complicated expression.
"Cass? Is that really you? I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."
Cassius felt a bit awkward. He put down his water bottle. "Professor Anderson. Hello."
"I heard them say you're working as an actor now?"
Professor Anderson's tone was calm, but his gaze was sharp. "I just watched your performance. You've improved a lot. It's very solid—much better than that tree stump you played in Waiting for Godot back in class."
Cassius: "..."
The students nearby wanted to laugh but didn't dare.
Professor Anderson sighed, lowering his voice so only Cassius could hear. "It's a pity you left without a word back then. I actually regretted it. I thought you had grit, even if your foundation was a little thin. But looking at you now... it seems you've been through the wringer out there."
He patted Cassius on the shoulder.
"This isn't an easy road. Since you've chosen it, stick with it. Don't waste the skills you've honed the hard way."
After speaking, the professor clasped his hands behind his back and continued his inspection of the other groups.
Cassius stood there, feelings mixed.
Being acknowledged by a former teacher felt strangely satisfying, but also induced a pang of guilt.
If it weren't for the "System Interface" cheat, reality might have ground him down long ago, sending him packing back home!
He wouldn't be standing here at all.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the sentimentality. Now wasn't the time to be melancholic.
A gray orb dropped from his body: [Aura Attribute — Composure +1].
Absorb!
Aura: Lv1 (0/200)!
Another attribute leveled up!
A sense of internalized stability melded into him, making him feel more composed when facing external scrutiny. He checked his HUD; his "Dialogue" and "Gaze" stats were close to leveling up, too.
"Back to work!"
Just as he was immersing himself in the character, he sensed something was off.
The perimeter of the set, which had been relatively orderly, was now gathering a crowd of students. They were pointing at him, whispering, and subtly aiming their phone cameras in his direction.
Cassius muttered to himself but didn't break character.
It was a student film crew; passing classmates often stopped to watch. It wasn't that weird, though the number of people and the intensity of their focus seemed higher than usual today.
"Cut!"
The student director yelled.
Before Cassius could speak, the director's phone started vibrating like crazy.
The director picked it up, his eyes widening into saucers. He snapped his head up to look at Cassius, his face a mask of shock.
Ignoring the shot they just took, he stormed over to Cassius in three large strides, lowered his voice, and spoke with a pitch that cracked from excitement.
"Cass! Bro! You've been holding out on me!"
Cassius was baffled. "Holding out on what?"
"Don't play dumb!"
The director practically shoved his phone screen into Cassius's face.
"TMZ! You made the front page of TMZ!"
"You spent the night with Kristen at the Beverly Hills Hotel!"
"You slept with my goddess!!! I'm going to kill you!!!"
...
Aren't goddesses meant to be slept with?
Cassius hadn't processed the situation yet, but when he read the text on the screen, his head started to throb.
It was that notorious gossip site, TMZ!
The headline was accompanied by several blurry but identifiable photos of him and Kristen!
One showed him supporting her at the hotel entrance as she leaned against him!
Another was a screenshot from a security camera showing them entering the hotel room together!
The last one was him leaving the hotel alone the next morning!
The headline was incredibly inflammatory: [Twilight Goddess in Secret Romance with Asian Actor? A Night of Passion Revealed!]
The comment section below had already exploded.
Wild guesses, doubts, and a stream of racist comments were refreshing constantly.
Interspersed among them were the wails of heartbroken fans.
Cassius hadn't expected the paparazzi at the Beverly Hills Hotel to be this rabid.
He had never been a celebrity, so he hadn't realized how pervasive the paparazzi were. These people were resourceful enough to get their hands on hotel security footage!
That night, he had been so focused on dealing with Kristen's mess and enjoying the room service that he completely forgot about this possibility.
"It's not what you think!" Cassius tried to explain, his voice a bit dry. "She was drunk. I just dropped her off. I slept on the sofa in the living room. Nothing happened!"
"The living room sofa?"
The student director looked at him like he was insane.
"Dude, who's gonna believe that?"
"That's Kristen! Bella from Twilight!"
"You stayed in a suite with her all night, and you're telling me you slept on the sofa?"
"What, do you have erectile dysfunction or something?"
Cassius: "..."
I just think taking advantage of a drunk girl is trashy, okay?!
He glared at the director. Watch your mouth.
The director sheepishly shut up.
The surrounding students were whispering, looking at him like he was a rare animal that had suddenly appeared in their midst.
"Listen, Mark!"
Cassius tried to calm himself, keeping his tone steady.
"That is the truth! Miss Stewart and I are just friends. That night was an accident. I hope you guys won't spread false information. It's not good for me or for her!"
"I believe you! I won't spread rumors!"
Mark gave him a 'nudge-nudge, wink-wink' look and lowered his voice. "Since we're practically friends now... next time you hang out with Kristen, invite me along for dinner. I promise I'll keep my mouth shut!"
Cassius: "..."
You obviously don't believe me!
Cassius smiled bitterly.
He was famous now!
But this wasn't the kind of fame he wanted.
This scandal was way more trouble than it was worth. If things went south, he'd be attacked by Kristen's crazy fans or labeled a "clout chaser" or a "schemer."
He took a deep breath and asked Mark, "Are we still shooting today? If not, I'm heading back."
"Shooting! Of course we're shooting!"
Mark grinned. "A performance with this kind of buzz? It's gonna be way more interesting to watch now!"
Cassius: "..."