Arima Kana's POV
"Damn… He almost got me. That damn song is annoyingly relatable. And painfully true."
I let out a long, frustrated sigh and clicked the tab closed, shutting off the video of Aqua's performance. The melody was still clinging to the inside of my skull, an unwelcome ghost.
A sudden presence behind me made my heart lurch. I spun around, almost jumping out of my skin. "Hey! You! You nearly gave me a heart attack, Ruby!"
Ruby Hoshino stood there, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. "What's 'painfully true,' Kana? Are you talking about the 'fallen king' part?"
She tilted her head, her gaze sharp. "It is you, isn't it? You were one. The famously cute child actress everyone's peers envied. I even remember seeing you in that green pepper costume, smiling and singing on those TV ads. Onii-chan almost threw the remote every time it came on."
She chuckled, the sound light and teasing."
My face darkened instantly. "What? How dare Aqua call my performances spam?"
Ruby just shrugged, her tone maddeningly nonchalant. "I mean, think about it. If you were in a drama or a movie, sure, that's a story. But constant ads in the middle of someone's favorite show? Nobody asks for that. It's annoying, even if it's a big star popping up."
The blunt, unvarnished truth of it deflated my anger.
A defeated, self-deprecating laugh escaped me. "Yeah… haha… you're kinda right about that."
She watched me for a moment, then her brows furrowed slightly, as if she'd overstepped. "Uhm… not to offend or anything. It's still awesome, in a way. You were a star. And my brother… he's getting more popular by the day, and well…"
I seized the opening.
Before she could finish, I reached out and gave her shoulder a firm, sisterly slap. "Then work hard, junior. If you want to reach where I am now, you've still got a long way to go."
The effect was instant. The confident, teasing light in Ruby's eyes snuffed out, replaced by a flat, dark displeasure. She clearly hadn't expected the reverse uno card played against her.
A grin of pure, unadulterated delight spread across my face.
Gotcha.
Fine.
Maybe I can't outmaneuver him yet.
His game is on another level entirely.
But his little sister?
Oh, I can run circles around her.
A hundred times over.
...
Aquamarine Hoshino's POV
After this, the dating reality show made the decision to wrap up early. Everyone from the cast—and since I was now included in that "everyone"—ended up heading over to Yotou High School.
It's where most of them were enrolled anyway, this curated incubator for actors, idols, models, singers, dancers, and every other breed of entertainer-in-training. The whole place is built on flexible time, forgiving schedules, and the unspoken rule that real-world exposure trumps classroom attendance.
So even showing up late drew no punishment, just a few tired glances. I took my usual seat in the back of the general ed classroom, listening with half an ear while feeling the weight of stares from every direction.
Whispers slithered around me, but no one approached.
Not then.
Not even when the bell finally rang.
Out in the hallway, I was immediately intercepted by Arima Kana. She looked at me with this dark, simmering anticipation in her eyes.
"Aqua. Do you have time?"
"I do. Lead the way, Kana." I nodded.
She brought me to an empty equipment warehouse, then turned and crossed her arms, her expression tight.
"Humph. You said you didn't want to be an actor. You swore you weren't coming back to the industry, not in any real way. Now look at what you've done. Everyone is talking about you. The forums are burning up. Your face is on gossip blogs. You didn't just step back in—you lit the whole stage on fire."
"I changed my mind." My voice was calm, but it carried an edge that hadn't been there before. "I used to think fame was nothing but a liability. A weakness. But now?"
I stepped closer, and the air between us felt charged. "Now I want to build my own damn empire. My own crew. My own kingdom. My own fucking rabbit cult, Kana. My old strategy got me fans. It got me attention. It even got me to the top of the ratings. But it never got me command."
"Right now, people on set respect me—sure. They message me. They talk about boosting my pay, giving me more screen time. But that's all it is."
"I don't control anything. I'm still playing the role they wrote for me—the charming, mysterious Casanova Bond motherfucker. I'm not the one they orbit. I'm not the sun in their system. I'm just another planet in their sky."
I was being blunt because this wasn't just a conversation.
This was a recruitment.
And if I wanted Arima Kana—truly wanted her loyalty, not just her cooperation—she needed to see the ruthlessness in me.
She needed to understand that I wasn't coming back to play nice.
I wasn't here to follow scripts written by cowards.
I'm an actor. A director. A screenwriter.
All in the same fucking breath.
I'm not some stealth operative, slinking through shadows like a criminal.
Nobody hires a ghost in this industry.
They hire a blaze.
They want someone who can seize the lens and choke the audience's attention until they forget to breathe.
They invest in spectacle. In certainty. In a person who doesn't ask for the spotlight but owns it.
Kana's brows knit together.
She was studying me like I was a stranger, some violent and unfamiliar version of the boy she thought she knew. "You… Do you even hear what you're saying, Aqua? On set, we work as a team. We have to cooperate. If you walk in there thinking only about your own gravity, no one will hire you. They'll hate you for it. They'll freeze you out."
Instead of getting defensive, I reached out and let my fingers slide into her red hair, stroking it slowly, almost absently.
Her body went stiff—a clear discomfort—but she didn't slap my hand away.
She held still.
"It must've hurt, right, Kana?"
I kept my voice low, almost conversational, as my thumb brushed the curve of her ear.
"I liked you, too. To please the adults in the room, to follow their rules, all so I could gather more power—more control over my own future. I walked their walk. I played the nice boy, the Casanova-in-training on their set."
"I learned how the entertainment industry breathes, how it thinks, who you need to bond with, who you need to ignore. And the whole time, I hated it."
"I hated the acting. I hated the unnecessary interactions, the fake laughter, the strategic smiles. Every second of it felt like my life—my real purpose—was being drained away for some power play that everyone in society is running, just with different props."
I finally let my hand fall from her hair, turning and sinking into an old, dusty chair in the middle of that empty warehouse.
I sat back leisurely, one leg crossed over the other, and watched her.
"Think about it. The outcast in school scrolling through their phone trying to look busy. The popular group crafting their social media posts, rehearsing their banter, making sure everything they do is trendy, funny—anything to stay on top."
"Even the quiet ones in class… they huddle together because being alone means being seen as weak. The entertainment industry isn't some special world, Kana."
"It's just a mirror. A magnifying glass held over the same pathetic social games we've all been playing since we were kids."
I tilted my head, a dry, humorless smirk touching my lips.
"Don't you think that's ironic?"
For a moment, her expression shifted. The defensiveness in her eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of recognition—like she was seeing someone she understood.
Someone just as tired, just as trapped.
"That's exactly why, Aqua," she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. "That's why you should play it safe. You could be famous. You could reach the top with just the song you sang on that dating show. Why take the risk? Why step into the ring when you don't have to?"
She was advising me out of goodwill.
But all I heard was the echo of the very compromise I was done making.
"No, Arima Kana. The entertainment industry doesn't need another player. It needs a goddamn savior."
"It needs someone to tear this rotten system apart from the inside—this endless cycle of exploitation, the constant fucking restriction of human rights, of an artist's freedom to speak, to create, to breathe without some boardroom suit cutting their oxygen."
My voice was low, but it filled the cold warehouse air like a vow.
"You must hate them, right? Hate those comments. The ones that ask, 'Why has Arima Kana's acting turned so mediocre?' 'Why is Arima Kana ruining the show?' They blame you. They point at the pretty face on the screen and scream that you're the one butchering the creator's original vision."
I took a step closer, my gaze holding hers, unflinching.
"They don't see the director who only cares about his brand. They don't see the sponsor who wants you shining on stage at the cost of gutting the manga's original setting, its soul."
"They don't see you—staying up all night, rehearsing lines that are trash, trying to salvage a dumpster fire with nothing but your own sweat and stubbornness."
"Those commenters don't give a fuck about the person behind the performance. They don't care about the heart that's breaking just to give them something, anything, worth watching."
I paused, letting the raw truth hang between us.
"Do you know what I thought when I saw those comments? When I saw you killing yourself to save a show that was already dead on arrival?"
My jaw tightened.
"I hated them. I wished every single one of those faceless, heartless critics would disappear from the world. I've never hated anyone like that before. And I've never been this determined."
"Aqua… W-wah…!"
She broke.
The dam shattered.
A raw, choked sob ripped from her throat, and she crashed into me, her arms wrapping around my torso, clinging like I was the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
Tears hot and unchecked soaked into my shirt.
"I never… I never thought someone would see it… would care… I…"
"Hush." My voice dropped, softer now, but no less intense.
I cupped her face, my thumbs brushing away the tears streaking her cheeks. "I told you from the beginning, Arima Kana. Save your tears for your future fans. Those haters aren't worth your time."
"They're not worth our time. We can't fight the whole system today. Not yet. But we can start. We can build something so that in the future, there's never a second Arima Kana—never another genius—exploited by the machine, dragged into the mud, forced to match some shitty director's crappy vision."
"I want every artist like you to shine on that stage, blindingly bright, with no one left in the shadows to sabotage you. Ever again."
And what happened to Ai… will never happen again.
She would have wanted this. To see idols truly shine in the spotlight, not bleed out behind the scenes.
I clenched my fist at my side, the resolve hardening into something physical, something lethal.
Since I'm going to resurrect Ai… I'll show her this future. I'll burn out every last rot in this industry before she returns. I'll welcome her to a world that's changed.
Kana pulled back just enough to look up at me, her face still wet, her eyes searching mine.
What she saw there—the ruthless, unshakable determination—seemed to ignite something in her own gaze.
The vulnerability hardened.
The tears didn't stop, but the fear behind them did.
Her grip on my hand tightened, matching the newfound firmness in her eyes.
"I'm going to be crazy with you, Aqua." Her voice was a raw whisper, but it carried a vow of its own. "Tell me your plan."
...
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