Chapter 52
The rare vacation and date day passed in a flash. Fan An was once again immersed in the intense filming schedule.
Director Yuko wanted to release the drama during the winter vacation, so she was rushing the progress like a demon every day, wishing she could trap the entire crew on set like earthbound spirits and film until the world turned dark.
“The birth of an earthbound spirit requires murder,” Suspect An said, rubbing her chin and counting seriously. “Binding so many spirits at once is a lot of physical work.”
Director Yuko: I was just thinking… and you, my friend, are the real demon.
Although she was a demon, Director Yuko was extremely grateful that she had chosen her to play the female lead.
Even with the high-intensity filming, the girl showed no signs of fatigue. She had abundant stamina, was an expert in knife skills, and had amazing marksmanship. The martial arts instructor was completely useless and secretly suggested to Director Yuko that she should thoroughly investigate the actress’s background: This is definitely a knife skill honed in slaughter. Who on earth is she?
Fan An: Dwarf Conan, a detective.jpg
Ahem, no joking. Let’s try that again:
Suspect An, professional pig butcher.
Fan An: (puffs out chest with pride.jpg)
The most important female lead was like a fish in water on the set. Director Yuko should have been very pleased and without worries, but the reality was that she had been very angry lately.
“Ohara Ryusei!” Director Yuko was so angry she called the male lead by his full name, criticizing him by name.
“What’s wrong with your condition? Look at those dark circles that even concealer can’t hide, and those bloodshot eyes that even colored contacts can’t cover! Don’t tell me you’ve been staying up all night partying even with such a tight filming schedule?!”
“No, Director, I really haven’t,” Ohara, who had been chewed out by the director, said, his face exhausted, his voice weak. “I just… have a sleep disorder.”
What Ohara didn’t say was that lately, when he slept, he always felt a pair of eyes staring at him, a malicious gaze sliding over his exposed skin like a snake, full of a dark, voyeuristic desire.
He had the same feeling during the day. Even though the set was crowded and lively, Ohara always felt a targeted gaze fixed on him, and he seemed to hear the sound of a camera shutter clicking in his ear.
A paparazzi? Why was he suddenly being targeted? What was there to report about him? Without being able to ride on the female lead’s popularity, he even had to buy his way onto the trending topics.
The other party didn’t seem to be trying to make money off of him either. They were just messing with his mind, to the death, willing to lose their job to get revenge on him.
Ohara was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Who on earth is targeting me?” he asked his agent. “Can we solve it with money?”
The agent was at his wit’s end. “Who else could it be but the paparazzi you just hired! He went crazy after he came out of Beika Town. He didn’t give us a single photo as promised, and he’s been chasing me with tens of thousands of crazy private messages like a mad dog! A lunatic!”
Money could no longer move Passerby Ding. He had lost his most important folder, and his career was in ruins. The only thing that kept him going now was one belief—Ohara Ryusei, I will kill you!
Director Yuko didn’t know the ins and outs of this top-tier dog-eat-dog incident. She only knew that the male lead’s acting was getting worse and worse, and he was on the verge of losing his position as the female lead’s number one devoted simp.
“It’s too late to replace him now,” the director said, discussing with the screenwriter. “How about we give the second, third, fourth, and fifth male leads a chance?”
If you don’t want to be a simp, there are plenty of people who do. A great female lead is never short of simps.
Fan An, as she was acting, noticed that the male lead’s appearances were becoming less frequent.
Her: Although I don’t know why, the director’s arrangement must be fine.
Once she started acting, she became ruthless and forgot herself. The days passed one by one. The leaves of the plane trees on the street gradually withered. A layer of white frost condensed on the balcony window in the morning.
The scarf around An’an’s neck went from wool to cashmere, and then to a tech-heated version with a built-in hand warmer.
On the day it officially became winter, she took off her scarf and took out her winter-survival artifact.
A full-face, black robber’s mask.
A classic design, a pure black color scheme. Gin’s black fedora was a little brother in front of it. Once you put on this artifact, the bank vaults of the world would open their doors to you.
“How is it?” the dark-haired girl, with only her eyes showing, asked. “It suits me, right?”
The blond Public Security officer, who had opened the door to witness the crime scene, was speechless. “…”
He suddenly understood Inspector Megure and Detective Mouri. Suspect An’s arrest was not an injustice.
“What a rude look,” An’an defended her choice. “What does a detective know about winter-survival artifacts? A robber’s mask can keep your face, neck, scalp, and ears warm all at once. One is better than four. The king of cost-effectiveness!”
Amuro reached out and took off the girl’s hat. Her long hair stood on end in a crackle of static electricity.
A Raiden Shogun explosion head!
His girlfriend’s reproachful gaze could kill. Amuro struggled to hold back his laughter.
“The king of cost-effectiveness is too good. So good that I’m useless.”
He raised his hand and covered An’an’s ears, warming her cold earlobes with his palm. “Give me a chance to show off, hm?”
Seeing her boyfriend’s sincerity, An’an nodded and agreed to let the robber’s mask be banished to the cold palace.
…
The white Mazda was warm and cozy. The dark-haired girl was curled up in the passenger seat, seriously reading her script.
“Today is my last scene,” she said. “I’m wrapping up.”
Amuro knew. He had specially cleared his schedule for today to witness the moment An’an wrapped up as a main character for the first time.
“Has it been a long time since Tōru-kun has seen me act?” An’an asked. “The last time was when I was a suspect.”
The number of times she had been a suspect was too many. Even Amuro had to search his memory for a long time.
He nodded. “I miss it.”
“I knew you would think so,” An’an said cheerfully. “No need to miss it. I’m going to kill everyone today.”
The Blond Public Security Officer: “…”
Saying the most terrifying things with the cutest expression. This is Miss An, the eternal suspect.
Fan An was not lying. Her last wrap-up scene was indeed killing everyone.
Revenge requires eradicating the roots! Even the enemy’s ancestral graves must be dug up, to nip the path of reincarnation in the bud.
Gasoline was poured on the retro-patterned carpet. The dark-haired girl unhurriedly made her preparations.
The silver cups, symbolizing the ancient chaebol, revealed their intricate family crests in the candlelight. Their polished surfaces reflected a pair of jet-black pupils.
The gasoline soaked the carpet and the velvet curtains. The girl strolled through the manor’s hall as if she were in her own home.
The real masters of the manor were lying on the dining table, as the ingredients for a grand feast.
They were a little too quiet. This was correct. Ingredients should be quiet and not make noise.
The faint rise and fall of their chests proved that these people were still alive. The protagonist of the feast believed that the ingredients were better fresh.
To be killed after being drugged would be to fall into hell unknowingly in their sleep. Her family, who had died in a shipwreck, painfully drowning, would not be satisfied.
Let there be a fire.
A scorching heat, the complete opposite of the cold shipwreck. The same brutal punishment.
She gently pushed over a candelabra.
The flames lit up her ink-black pupils, burning like stars.
Off-camera, Director Yuko stared blankly at the close-up on the screen.
“I have a feeling,” she murmured to herself. “This will be a groundbreaking hit drama in my career as a director.”
The dancing flames were a golden red, so violent, so beautiful, yet they could not compare to the person who slowly walked out of the fire.
“To be so beautiful is to be fatal!” Director Yuko cupped her face. “Ahhh, the thought of her crying later makes me so excited! My kink has been awakened.”
Amuro, who was standing next to the director: I’m still here.
What do you do when your girlfriend is a hit with both men and women? The number of love rivals has increased again.jpg
Burning away hatred and sin was not the end. The female lead, after her revenge, watched the raging fire, the joy in her heart replaced by emptiness.
She would rather none of this had ever happened. She had never had supreme wealth and status, and her family had never become swollen corpses on the sea.
An unprecedented sadness enveloped her. She burst into tears.
Tears—”CUT!”
Director Yuko had to speak up. “You’re supposed to be crying.”
“I can’t cry,” Fan An said honestly. “I don’t understand why she would cry over something as satisfying as setting fire to all her enemies.”
The Director: “…”
The Screenwriter: “…”
The Martial Arts Instructor: “See? I told you we should investigate thoroughly.”
“Of course it’s because a beauty in tears is the most captivating!” the screenwriter slapped his thigh. “You have no idea what the audience wants to see!”
“Cry,” Director Yuko supported the screenwriter. “Even if you don’t feel it, you have to use tricks to cry.”
“What a terrible kink,” An’an complained, taking the eye drops from the assistant sister.
She couldn’t muster any sad emotions. She could only rub her eyes red and tilt her head back to apply the eye drops.
The final effect was very good, but Director Yuko was still not satisfied. “Damn it, real tears would definitely be more beautiful! I want to see them, ahhh!”
An’an couldn’t possibly satisfy her. The combination of rubbing her eyes red and the irritation of the eye drops made her eyes very uncomfortable. The moment she heard “cut,” she wouldn’t stay in front of the camera for a second longer.
“It’s uncomfortable,” the girl said, bumping into Amuro’s arms. “Help me blow on them.”
The blond young man cupped her face and blew gently.
“Is it better?” Amuro asked in a low voice. “The director is calling you over there.”
“I don’t want to go,” An’an puffed out her cheeks. “Her kink is too terrible. And she says the audience wants to see it. Who likes to see people cry?”
She complained for a long time, then suddenly realized that her boyfriend had been strangely silent.
The dark-haired girl lifted her eyelids and scrutinized Amuro.
He looked away.
“An’an acted very well,” Amuro changed the subject. “The effect will definitely be amazing when the drama airs.”
His girlfriend’s scrutinizing gaze did not move.
“So, Tōru-kun also thinks the tears I faked by rubbing my eyes red and using eye drops were beautiful?” she asked in a ghostly voice.
Amuro: Generally speaking, anyone with a normal aesthetic would think so…
I’m sorry. Human kinks are indeed too dirty.
The girl couldn’t understand. “What’s so beautiful about fake crying?”
But An’an wouldn’t really cry either. Amuro glanced at Director Yuko, who almost had the word “regret” written on her face.
Because An’an’s tear threshold was very high. Even when she was very moved or very sad, she wouldn’t express it with tears.
“If you want to see me cry, it seems it would only be in a situation of physiological tears.”
For example, onions, peppers, tear gas, and the like.
“There’s no other possibility,” An’an said with certainty.
The girl, who was so confident at this moment, did not know that the occasions for physiological tears were far from limited to the kitchen and the battlefield.
But it didn’t matter. She would find out soon enough.