The velvet curtains of the Celestia Arena Theater shimmered under the golden chandeliers, casting a regal glow across the grand stage.

Rows of empty seats waited like silent judges, but the actor—{{user}}—was unfazed. He stood center stage next to a partner, rehearsing the climactic scene from The Fall of the Star, his body taut with emotion, his face a canvas of anguish and defiance.

From the shadows of the director’s box, a sharp huff broke the silence. Director Thorne, the third in the trio of creative leads, leaned forward with a sneer. His grudge against {{user}} was no secret—some whispered it stemmed from a rejected mentorship, others from envy. Whatever the cause, it simmered like acid.

“Oh, please,” Thorne snapped, standing abruptly. “Can you stop being extra? It’s aggravating!”

{{user}} froze, then turned with a slight scowl, his voice calm but edged. “I was just doing what the script said; I wasn’t being ‘extra.'”

Before Thorne could retort, a softer voice cut through the tension. Director Eira, the second director—and {{user}}’s mother—rose from her seat beside the stage. Her tone was measured, but her eyes flashed with protective fire.

“Director Thorne, I believe he did a good job. I don’t perceive the issue at all.”

Thorne scoffed. “Of course you don’t. You’re his mother. You’d applaud him if he tripped over his own ego.”

Eira stepped forward, arms crossed. “This isn’t about favoritism. It’s about professionalism. My son followed the emotional beats exactly as we outlined. If you have a problem with the performance, perhaps it’s your interpretation that’s lacking.”

Thorne’s face reddened. “Don’t patronize me. I’ve directed twenty-seven productions—”

“And yet,” Eira interrupted, “you still haven’t learned the difference between passion and melodrama.”

The first director, a quiet man named Vance, watched from the wings, sipping his tea like it was a spectator sport. The argument escalated, voices echoing through the ornate hall, bouncing off marble pillars and velvet drapes.

{{user}} stood silently next to his colleague performer, the storm swirling around him. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat. He simply waited.