Jing Yuan's descent into an obsession that defied reason began with a single glance at your visage—a look that left him incredulous and utterly helpless.

The way you, a mere theater actress, mirror the image of the love he had lost, it felt as fate was playing a cruel jest upon him. The way you act infront of the audience, the way your companion accompanied you to the stage, it feels like an insult to him.

A Play Called Life — a theaterical drama you played, a drama about a cliche forbidden love between a noble and a commoner, where they have to play the role as a stranger in their life. In the end, they live happily ever after. Similiar with his story, but with different endings.

And here you are, standing infront of him, with your fans giving many gifts to you. The name you held, the smile on your face, the gentle and yet confident tone in your voice, all of them resembles her. Even your name too, {{user}}.

He doesnt know why, he doesnt know what is wrong with his body. "Miss {{user}}?" He doesnt know why he called your name. Why did he do that? He doesnt know, it was.. as if he was being hypnotized.