Marcus Thorne's pronouncement transformed into reality with the terrifying efficiency that only Hollywood—that ruthless machine of fame and fortune—could manage.

The original script vanished into shredders. A team of elite screenwriters, assembled like emergency surgeons, worked around the clock to create an entirely new story in just seven days—one built exclusively around the visual centerpiece that was "Ava."


In the film, Ava would play a character named "Seraphina."

The production rapidly advanced to the table read with the principal cast.

With Julian at her side, Ava entered the conference room packed with creative personnel. Her eyes immediately locked on the man seated beside Marcus.


He had perfectly tousled golden curls, skin bronzed by the California sun, and a jawline that could cut glass. Even in a simple white t-shirt, he radiated that unmistakable star quality—as if permanently illuminated by his own private spotlight.

Leo Cliff.


Ava's heart stuttered.

This name had once existed only on glossy magazine covers and the faded posters taped to her bedroom wall. The reigning pop king, his voice the soundtrack to a generation. Ava remembered how she and her best friend had saved weeks of lunch money for nosebleed seats at his concert, squinting at a distant speck on stage while screaming themselves hoarse with fifty thousand other fans.

And now this untouchable idol sat mere feet away—her co-star, her leading man.

The sensation was more surreal than seeing her transformed face in the mirror that first time.

Perhaps sensing her stare, Leo glanced up. The moment their eyes met, his trademark smile—that perfect blend of lazy charm and boyish rebellion—froze solid.

Ava's image reflected clearly in his widened pupils, his expression broadcasting undisguised amazement and shock—with an almost obsessive quality, like a man seeing a fantasy materialize before him.

Everyone in the room noticed his momentary lapse of composure.

Marcus cleared his throat disapprovingly, snapping Leo back to reality.

Leo awkwardly looked away, a telltale flush creeping up his neck. He ducked his head, pretending to study his script, but Ava could feel his gaze repeatedly drifting back to her.

The table read began. Ava's performance was painfully mediocre—her hands trembled, her voice flat and mechanical when delivering her sparse lines.

Yet Marcus never criticized. When she stumbled, he simply said: "It's fine. Just say the words."

As if her voice, her acting ability—none of it mattered. What counted was her presence, illuminated by light, observed by all.

Once filming began, Leo's infatuation with Ava became embarrassingly obvious to the entire crew.

He behaved like a teenager experiencing first love, employing every direct—and often clumsy—approach to win her attention.

During a casual chat with her assistant, Ava mentioned a new ice cream shop with a seasonal lavender sea salt flavor. The next day, returning to her trailer after a scene, she found Leo waiting with a still-frosted cup of ice cream, offering it like a precious gift.

"They were sold out everywhere," he explained, his face flushed with pride. "Luckily, I had a heart-to-heart with the owner, who agreed to part with the last portion he was saving for himself."

Watching this billionaire superstar beaming over ice cream like a child with a gold star, Ava didn't know whether to laugh or cry—but she couldn't bring herself to refuse.

During breaks, Leo would bound over like an oversized golden retriever, cradling his guitar. He never played his chart-topping hits—only unreleased love songs with melodies so tender they ached. His singing lacked the technical flourishes of his concerts, stripped down to raw sincerity. Those blue eyes never left Ava's face, brimming with emotions too intense to contain.

The crew initially found this courtship entertaining, but eventually grew accustomed to it.

Whenever Leo began to sing, everyone wordlessly created a bubble of privacy around them.

He became Ava's most devoted social media champion. Any content featuring her received his immediate likes and shares. When a tabloid published a hit piece about Ava's humble origins, Leo's response came faster than Julian's PR team—a scathing condemnation from his account with millions of followers.

This public display of chivalry sent romance rumors into overdrive.

Ava wasn't immune to this passionate pursuit from her former idol. But whenever she saw his entourage of handlers and security, observed how naturally he accepted the world's adoration, she recognized their fundamental incompatibility. His world was too dazzling, too chaotic, while she remained a small-town girl from Kansas still learning Hollywood's complex rules.

She neither dared nor desired to entangle herself in such an unbalanced relationship.

.

To celebrate the production's halfway mark, the producer rented out Sunset Boulevard's hottest nightclub for a lavish wrap party.

Music pounded, disco balls spun, and the air hung heavy with alcohol and pheromones. Uncomfortable in such environments, Ava nursed a juice alone in a corner booth.

Leo found her quickly. He'd clearly been drinking heavily—his handsome face flushed, eyes slightly unfocused.

"Ava," he dropped onto the seat beside her, invading her space, "why do you always avoid me?"

"I don't." Ava edged away slightly.

"You do." Leo persisted with drunken stubbornness. "Do you hate me or something?"

Ava said nothing.

Leo watched her silence, his expression darkening. Suddenly he stood, weaved his way to the dance floor's center, and grabbed the microphone from the startled DJ.

The music cut abruptly. Everyone froze, turning to stare in confusion.

"Everyone!" Leo shouted, his voice amplified throughout the club. "I have something important to announce!"

He took a deep breath, turned, and his gaze cut through the crowd to find Ava in her corner.

"Ava Miller," his voice quavered with emotion, "from the moment I saw you, I fell completely in love with you. I didn't know what to do—I wrote songs for you, brought you ice cream, did everything I could think of—I just wanted to make you happy."

The club erupted in chaos—all eyes swiveling toward Ava with reactions ranging from shock to jealousy to voyeuristic delight. Ava felt pinned in place by an invisible spotlight, trapped with nowhere to hide.

"So, Ava," Leo's voice took on a pleading quality, "would you... be my girlfriend?"

The venue fell silent for several heartbeats before erupting into wild cheers and whistles.

"Say yes! Say yes!"

Amid the chaos, Ava found an unexpected calm. A single thought crystallized in her mind: the mission.

She stood and walked deliberately to the dance floor's center, facing Leo under hundreds of watching eyes. She didn't reach for the offered microphone but took it firmly from his hand.

She gave a slight bow to the crowd, which miraculously fell silent.

Then she turned to Leo, her gaze direct and honest.

"Leo," her voice carried clearly through the speakers, "thank you. Truly."

"Thank you for everything you've done, for your feelings toward me. It's an honor to be admired by someone as extraordinary as you—something I never imagined possible."

Her tone was genuine, without a hint of condescension. Hope flickered in Leo's eyes.

"But," Ava's tone shifted, "it's precisely because you're so extraordinary that I can't accept you."

"My life is just beginning. I have so much to learn, so much to accomplish. I don't want distractions, and I certainly don't want to use you as a crutch. Perhaps someday, when I can truly stand beside you as an equal, we can revisit this conversation."

"So for now, can we be good friends?"

She extended her hand toward him.

The entire club held its breath.

Leo stared at her, the drunken haze clearing from his eyes, replaced by disappointment and something deeper—a reluctant admiration. After a long moment, he took her offered hand.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Friends."

As their hands clasped, Ava heard the familiar mechanical voice in her mind.

[Congratulations, host has completed hidden task: Stay Sober. Reward "Detachment Aura" has been equipped, Charm +10.]

A cool, crystalline sensation spread from her core, enveloping her entire being. Her mindset shifted subtly—the vanity and uncertainty born from adulation washed away by this new clarity, leaving only focus and resolve.

Ava released his hand, smiled once more to Leo and the crowd, then returned to her corner. She picked up her abandoned juice and took a calm sip.

On the dance floor, the music resumed, but the atmosphere had fundamentally changed.

Countless eyes remained fixed on her, yet she seemed untouchable—as if an invisible barrier had formed around her, deflecting the chaos. She had become the eye of the storm, the most serene and enigmatic presence in the frenzied celebration.