Zeno blinked at the man who had called out to him. He appeared like a scammer waving Zeno over.

Somehow, that made Zeno intrigued. He liked that the guy appeared dressed to be in his parents’ basement.

“Come here, kid. Just one shot. One perfect shot,” he said, gesturing toward the gleaming PRYSM360.

Zeno approached with slow steps. His expression didn’t change much—he just tilted his head slightly and squinted at the contraption. It had limbs, lights, spinning cameras, and glowing panels. It looked like a small spaceship, one he found lingering around their planet from time to time.

“…What is this?” Zeno asked quietly, eyes scanning the machine.

“The PRYSM360,” the operator said, patting the camera arm. “Top of the line. It records you very speedily, and then we slow it down and post it on every official platform.”

“Why?”

The operator froze.

“…Why what?” he asked.

“Why does it exist?” Zeno asked again, completely serious.

There was a moment of silence. The operator’s mouth opened, then closed. He blinked at Zeno, trying to decide if he was being mocked. But the younger man just stared at the machine with the same questioning stare.

‘No one’s ever asked that before,’ the operator thought.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, laughing. “Maybe to feed the ego? Get brand deals? Go viral? It’s what everyone’s doing. Now, just stand there, alright? Just a quick pose.”

Zeno raised a brow. “That’s not very convincing.”

“You’ll be posted everywhere,” the man said, growing a bit desperate. “Front page of every online fashion account. You’re dressed for it. You might as well go all the way.”

Zeno didn’t seem to fully understand what was being asked of him, but the man was too persistent to ignore. With a small sigh, he stepped into the PRYSM360 platform.

The operator grinned and tapped the controls. “Alright. Countdown starting. Three—two—one—”

The cameras whirred quickly.

Zeno turned slightly to the side at first, eyes drifting off to the distance. His posture was relaxed. His hands slid into his pockets, shoulders low. He turned his face toward the lens, not missing it despite how fast it had moved.

The PRYSM360 finished with a soft beep. The operator stood frozen as the playback started on his tablet, eyes wide.

The screen displayed it in all its glory—slow motion, hair catching the night breeze at just the right time, and the black suit glinting under the soft light filters.

The operator exhaled in awe. “What the hell…”

He looked up, wanting to catch Zeno’s reaction.

But Zeno was already gone.

A voice behind him made him jump.

“Can I really not take another one?”

He turned around to find Kim Kim with a desperate expression. “You’re still here?” he muttered.

However, he didn’t focus too much on her.

He needed to see the outcome again! It felt like he was under a spell for a second.

Without a word, the operator played back the video. Kim Kim, also curious about the outcome, leaned in.

The video played again.

It was one of the cleanest movements that the operator had seen, and along with that, Zeno stared straight into the camera while others had a hard time even spotting it!

However, the most dangerous out of them all was his face card. In fact, it felt illegal at that point.

“…Lethal face card,” Kim Kim whispered before she could stop herself.

The operator nodded, not looking away from the screen.

“Lethal.”

***

Zeno stepped into the venue, the velvet carpet muffling his slow, steady steps. But even in the dimmed lighting of the grand hall, the stares did not stop.

They trailed him—some subtle, others blatant. Whispers buzzed low like insects in a meadow. Phones trembled in the hands of influencers too scared to take photos while stylists from across the room clutched their chests like they were witnessing a mythical creature walk through rows of mortals. Even a few seasoned actors turned slightly in their chairs, drawn in.

The ushers flanking Zeno were in stiff black uniforms, keeping up with his pace.

“We’re about to begin,” one of them whispered urgently. “We need to seat you quickly. Do you want to sit with the cast of Stars in My Ordinary Sky, Lucy’s Game, The Forsaken Prince, or Code Black?”

Zeno stopped walking.

All four groups were in view, each cluster occupying designated tables.

“Zeno!” Ian Seo called from the Code Black section, half-rising from his chair with bright eyes. “Sit with us! Right here! There’s a spot next to me!”

Jordie, watching the exchange, instantly turned to him and exclaimed, “No, you need to sit with us.”

“Zeno!” Yuan exclaimed from the other side. “Didn’t you miss me?”

Zeno’s gaze passed over all of them.

Yuan was already on his feet. “You’ll pick me, right?” he said with a laugh.

Zeno didn’t answer his question but walked to the table meant for the cast of The Forsaken Prince. He was the main character in it, after all.

Risa, sensing Zeno’s decision, quickly rose from the table of Code Black and also trudged toward that particular table.

Ian’s face fell. “I really should have auditioned for that drama,” he muttered, feeling regretful.

“I knew you’d pick me,” Yuan said, beaming, arms already opening wide for a hug.

But Zeno stepped sideways at the last moment and went to sit right between Risa and Oska.

Risa’s cheeks flushed a warm pink as she gave him a shy smile.

Oska, on the other hand, glanced at Zeno once. Then he looked away, his jaw working slightly as he folded his hands together.

Zeno didn’t seem to notice or care.

He sat, calm as ever.

Just then, the lights dimmed all at once, plunging the entire room into darkness.

Murmurs hushed, and the rustling of dresses stopped. A few final flashes went off, and then the silence took over.

Suddenly—bright white lights exploded across the stage.

Two silhouettes stood there in poised stillness.

“Sora Kim!” someone whispered in excitement.

“And Phoenix Hyun!”

The pair stepped forward. Sora’s gown glittered like a waterfall of stars, and Phoenix’s maroon suit appeared more vibrant under the bright lights.

“The best actress and actor from the Celadon Awards,” someone muttered behind Zeno.

They took the microphones, their movements practiced yet graceful.

From where Zeno sat, he could see Phoenix clearly now, and that feeling passed through him again. However, he still couldn’t quite pinpoint it, making him feel frustrated.

With that, Zeno opted to turn away and observed how everyone he had seen on-screen during the Celadon Awards was now breathing the same air as him.

What a strange turn of events.

Phoenix scanned the row of artists, but his eyes barely brushed over Zeno.

Sora began the introduction. “Welcome,” she said, smiling, “to the 58th Annual Asian Artistry Awards.”