“Oh, to be manhandled,” Apple sighed dreamily from the sidelines.

“I can do it,” someone suggested from behind her, and she didn’t need to glance back to know who it was.

“Let me rephrase that,” she cleared her throat. “Oh, to be manhandled by Zeno,” she repeated.

The scene was still underway, and the crew couldn’t find it within themselves to stop Misha and Zeno. They were exuding the right charisma on screen—Misha, caught in her inner conflicts, and Zeno, embodying the flirty yet dangerous menace his character was renowned for.

“Hear that?” #25 smirked, gesturing to the siren that rang throughout the entire circle. “That’s one minute left until the First Circle ends.”

#1 breathed heavily, appearing to be in a state of panic. It had been a while since she found herself struggling in his arms, knowing full well it would be futile.

“Yet, that one minute is enough to take your life.”

#25 took out his pocket knife, opening it before placing it next to her carotid pulse. “Lucky you,” he grinned. “I have to make it quick. Such a shame, though, since I was looking forward to having fun with such a pretty face.”

“You will not take my body,” she declared through gritted teeth.

Raising both brows, with the knife still lingering on her neck, he replied, “Who said anything about taking your body? I’m not that kind of person.”

“It seems to me,” he continued, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin, “that you’re the one looking to escalate this further. Am I right?”

#1’s breath hitched as #25 locked his gaze on her eyes. His attention flicked to her lips briefly, and she found herself unconsciously biting them.

Slowly, he leaned in—much more gently than his character would lead one to expect. His eyes went between her eyes and her lips before he tilted his head slightly to the side. She didn’t dare move away; no, she found herself unable to pull back.

His grip on her was not as fierce as moments before, yet she felt no instinct to push him away. Their lips hovered merely centimeters apart, their upper ones even brushing against each other, sending shivers racing down #1’s spine. However, just before #25 could close the gap, the siren rang out, and his lips transformed into a smirk.

He swiftly pulled away, watching her flustered expression with amusement.

With nonchalance, he closed the pocket knife, playing with it casually between his fingers. “Bummer,” he remarked in a lighthearted tone. “Time’s up.”

“I guess I’ll see you in the rest of the games.”

With that, he took a step back.

“Cut!” Devon exclaimed. “Excellent! That was outstanding work.”

The moment he shouted that single word—cut—Zeno’s expression went back to one of professionalism. He didn’t even glance at Misha, who felt like she had just completed a marathon! Her heart raced in her chest as she watched Zeno made his way through the crew.

What the heck? Was she the only one who felt flustered after that scene?

As far as she was aware, Zeno had never participated in a romance drama before. Sure, she had heard he appeared in a romance YouWatch series, but he wasn’t the main lead, so it didn’t count. She’d seen The Forsaken Prince, and although there were romantic elements, the plot focused mainly on politics and family dynamics.

Yet, it felt like Misha was the amateur between the two of them.

“Oh no, we’re losing her too,” someone muttered from the side, interrupting her thoughts. Misha frowned as a group of familiar faces continued to chatter animatedly amongst themselves.

“Honestly, she’s pretty strong. I would have folded the moment Zeno delivered his first line.”

“Still, during that last scene, she seemed out of it.”

“Yeah, it looked like she was waiting for the kiss.”

Misha turned to the side, pursing her lips in irritation. She marched over to them and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “You know I could hear you, right?”

“Oh, sorry,” Apple replied with an innocent peace sign. “Do you want to join our conversation?”

“It seems I’m already a part of it.”

“How was it?” Sora suddenly asked. “Did his breath smell nice?”

Misha pursed her lips as she recalled the scene. Yes, it smelled nice. In fact, his entire being smelled nice, if that made sense. However, she wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

“Based on her expression, he definitely does,” Jace chimed in. “But I can attest firsthand that he smells really good,” he added with a grin.

“Why would you even say that?” Misha asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “How can you compliment him after everything he has done to you?”

Jace tilted his head to the side, considering her words. “What do you mean? I genuinely like Zeno.”

“Huh?”

Jace smiled. “He’s nice. He’s a talented actor. He’s kind, but he doesn’t like to be acknowledged. I truly believe he’s a good man.”

“In fact, he’s my rival.”

“Who said that?” Shin interjected with a slight chuckle, amused by Jace’s declaration.

“Me, of course,” Jace responded confidently as he squared his shoulders. “Someday, I’ll reach the level where Zeno is.”

“Wait,” Misha muttered, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You actually like Zeno?”

“Yeah!” Jace exclaimed sincerely. “What’s not to like?”

***

Devon was whistling happily as he made his way to his room, planning to take a short break while the cast had their lunch. Suddenly, he heard Victor’s voice echoing in the hotel lobby.

“You seem to be enjoying this way too much.”

Devon stopped in his tracks and bowed his head slightly. “Sir?”

“Are you having fun directing the cast while I suffer from a migraine? You want to take over this position, don’t you?”

Devon’s brows furrowed as he attempted to clarify, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just—”

“Well, you won’t,” Victor interjected, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. “You’ll assist me again this afternoon. Don’t ever get too comfortable in the role of main director when you’re not deserving of it.”

With that, Victor walked away, snatching the canned coffee from Devon’s pocket.

Devon sighed and shook his head, his mood dampening as he trudged toward his room. Just then, he heard an unexpected voice behind him.

“Why do you allow yourself to be spoken to like that?”

“Zeno?” Devon turned around, awkwardly chuckling. “Since when have you been there?”

Zeno crossed his arms firmly in front of his chest. “Answer my question,” he urged.

“Why do you continue to tolerate Victor?”

Devon scratched the back of his neck, feeling slightly flustered. “Well, you know, this is just how things are in the industry. Victor is kind enough to let me stay on the show.”

“Of course, he’d let you stay,” Zeno remarked. Then, he locked eyes with Devon.

“You’re the one who wrote the show in the first place, right?”

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