Hell's Actor

Chapter 263: Mundane Life

In the holy chamber filled with abundant divinity, the commander of angels opened his eyes.One of his attendants, a fellow angel, whispered, "Archangel Michael, it is time."

The doors to the chamber opened, pouring in his brethren.

Michael opened his mouth, and a voice as sweet as nectar flowed out. "Let us convene, the congregation of archangels."

The seats around the round table were filled before long.

"On this occasion, we shall discuss the death of brother Jophiel."

No one but the commander of angels spoke.

"This marks the beginning of a new conflict with Hell. And so, we must be prepared for what is to follow. War might be upon us."

***

"Your agent isn’t here?" Director Corsini asked.

Averie groaned as he sat down on the sofa. "No, she is meeting some interested parties."

It had been the first time in a long while that she had left him to his own devices. Usually, they travelled together, and since she started working for him, they had never been in two different cities.

"So, you read through the book?" the old director asked, looking at the biography set on the table by the actor.

When The Strings Snapped, it was entitled.

"Yeah..." Averie’s gaze swept through the room and landed on the woman sitting beside the director. "You have a guest."

"I suppose introductions are in order." He waved a hand towards the woman. "This is Ellen Marxfield."

The woman gave him a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, and congratulations."

"Thank you." Averie watched her with interest. "I know the name. You were quoted in the book."

She looked to be in her early 50s. He was sure he had never met her, but the actor felt like he had seen her somewhere before.

"You were part of the band, yes?"

"I had the fortune, yes."

Once the pleasantries were done with, the director jumped straight to the point.

"Here’s the script."

Indeed, there was a script in his hand.

"You’ll have to read it here."

Unless one had at least verbally agreed to take on a role, the old director did not allow any actor to take home his scripts.

Averie complied, spending a long time poring over delicate lines of dialogue.

"I made some changes in the script, based on the conversation we had last time," the old director added as Averie reached the last page.

"You took inspiration from me, you mean?"

"Quite so, quite so."

Averie’s phone rang, but he didn’t answer.

"So, what do you think?"

Averie stared into the words, tried to look beyond to grasp at the lifeblood of the project.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Then..."

"I’ll think about it."

"How long?"

"How long do you have?"

"Two weeks, at most."

The actor didn’t have to ask which role. It was very clearly highlighted in the script.

He placed the pages down.

"When’s production starting?"

"It’s a blockbuster, so at least a couple of months from now—four at most."

Averie didn’t want to give a definitive answer.

"My agent will call you."

That’s all. No arrangements, no indication of any kind. He was as lifeless as a man could look.

"What’s the working title?"

"Nine Millimeters of God."

Averie chuckled. He liked the title.

And the director liked the reaction.

"The production allowed it?" the actor asked. "Aren’t they afraid that the ticket sales could plummet? The religious communities may not like the very first scene associated with God."

"There have been films that have antagonized God far more than I ever could. But to answer your question, yes, they were insistent on changing the title. But what can they do when I’m so stubborn?"

’Good man,’ Averie thought.

He swept his hand across the script, as if saying goodbye, and stood up.

"May I ask you something?" the director abruptly asked, stalling the man.

Averie answered with a curt nod.

"Why did you start acting?"

"Because nothing else seemed as fun," he answered without a second thought.

Indeed, that was the reason why Averie Quinn Auclair chose to act.

But, as Gene Conti, he knew the answer differed. Back then, all those years ago, he started acting because not even his own skin felt as comfortable as wearing someone else’s.

When he was little, he wanted to live in films. He wanted the tragedy, romance, and drama of cinema to be his life. He wanted something that was the complete opposite of stale and boredom.

Unlike life, films and plays weren’t mundane.

***

Hyerin burst into the hotel room, her small face looking chippier than usual.

"Welcome back." Averie was the one to greet her. "How was the trip?"

"It was great!"

The man groaned and stretched his back while lying on the sofa. "Where were you again?"

Hyerin stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously? You don’t know?"

"Yeah, I tend to check out when you lecture me. Even now, I’m thinking about cheesecake with chocolate sauce on top. And now, I’m thinking about why that waitress looked at me weirdly. She must be one of those only-berries-on-top cheesecake purists. Did you see how she asked me if I needed a spoon with that? She must have been thinking, ’a barbaric man like you wouldn’t have the decency to use a fork,’ right?"

Hyerin looked at her glamorous friend as one would look at a schizophrenic beggar. "What are you talking about?"

"We toured the city while you were away—I made him dress inconspicuously, of course."

It was Min-Ha who replied.

"But that didn’t stop some of the people from recognizing him. You should’ve seen the line of people asking for selfies outside the restaurant."

"It’s weird how they kept grabbing my butt. Like, come on, my lips are softer than my butt. Why couldn’t they grab my lips?" He sighed. "People are weird."

’As if you’re any different,’ Hyerin thought.

"So," her friend asked, "where were you?"

"Tokyo."

"And what was this business?"

"I heard of a project that might interest you."

Averie’s eyes gleamed. "Oh?"

She produced an envelope. "And I was right."