Kai stood before his closet, toweling off his hair, still damp from the shower. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the freshness of the house. He hadn't realized how much he missed this simple silence until now.
He reached out to grab a shirt. But as his fingers brushed over the fabric, he paused. Something felt… different.
He frowned slightly, pulling one shirt out and holding it up against the light. It smelled of strong and floral. Not the faint, clean scent of dry-cleaning he was used to. He ran his hand over the cotton again, his brows knitting together.
His clothes were never washed with detergent. He'd always sent them for dry-cleaning, especially the ones that cost more than some people's rent.
But someone had washed them. Carefully. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. There weren't many people who would dare to touch his wardrobe. Only one came to mind. He didn't know whether to feel happy or irritated. Maybe both.
He pulled open the drawer beside the closet and took out a pair of silver cufflinks with a subtle shine. He never used buttons. Every shirt he owned was designed for cufflinks, and he had a whole collection of them, small, elegant, and personal.
Sliding them into place, he adjusted his sleeves, buttoned the collar, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, the man staring back at him is the same man who is loved by people, Kai Arden.
The car rolled through the streets, and everywhere Kai looked, his face looked back at him. Bus stands. Billboards. Storefront screens. Even a taxi's rear window had his poster plastered on it.
10 Years of Kai Arden. Celebrating a Decade of Excellence.
Fans had done this. Out of love. Out of pride. And yet, staring at the hundreds of versions of his own smile, Kai felt something oddly distant. This day, his anniversary should've felt triumphant. It was his day. But instead of joy, all he felt was a quiet hum beneath his ribs.
When the car stopped outside his office, he noticed something strange. The building was unusually silent. The lobby lights were dimmer than usual, and there wasn't a single receptionist in sight. Today, something was different. It was too quiet. Not the calm, professional silence of a Monday morning, but the kind that carries an edge, a stillness waiting to burst.
"Why does it feel like a Sunday?" he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the elevator.
Ryan followed, silent. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding on the seventh floor, Kai's floor. Empty. No assistants. No designers. Not even the girl, who always pretended to be busy and came to see Kai.
Kai turned slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Ryan?"
Ryan blinked innocently. "Yeah?"
Kai tilted his head, a knowing smirk creeping across his face. "You do realize you're a door that's locked from both sides, right?"
Ryan laughed awkwardly. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Kai said, stepping closer, his tone sharp but playful, "I know you're in on whatever's going on here."
Ryan raised his hands defensively. "How would I know? I've been with you the whole time!"
Kai's stare didn't waver. He could see the slight twitch in Ryan's jaw, the subtle shift of his eyes. He was lying. Kai folded his arms, lowering his voice. "Which floor?"
There was a pause. A tiny, betraying pause. Then Ryan sighed, looking like a man who'd been caught red-handed. "Fifteenth," he murmured.
Kai's lips curved into a half-smile, not the charming one his fans adored, but the one that meant he'd caught on.
"Of course it is," he said, stepping back into the elevator. "Let's go see what my dear employees are up to."
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, reflecting the faint glint of his cufflinks, silver, sharp, and perfectly in place. Kai narrowed his eyes but said nothing.g
The elevator chimed softly, a delicate sound that broke the stillness around Kai. The metallic doors slid open, revealing the 15th floor, a space he knew better than the lines on his own hand.
Kai took a step forward, his leather shoes echoing softly on the marble floor. The air was faintly scented with lilies? Or perhaps something more subtle, a familiar fragrance of nostalgia he couldn't quite name. Ryan followed behind, silent.
The hallway lights were dimmed to a warm gold, shadows falling long and soft against the walls. The 15th floor of his company's event wing stood utterly still. No sound, no footsteps, no idle chatter from the assistants. The floor looked deserted, as though time itself had paused. The air conditioning hummed faintly, the only reminder that life still existed in this building.
Kai looked left, then right, his jaw tightening. "What's going on?"
Ryan moved ahead without answering, his hand slipping into his pocket. "This way," he said simply, his voice holding a strange weight.
Kai followed, his eyes darting over the familiar corridors. He passed by the wall where framed magazine covers hung his first photoshoot, his first award, and his first headline. "The Rising Star of Tomorrow." He remembered standing for that picture, nervous, smiling too hard. He was seventeen then. Young, naive, hungry.
Now, at twenty-seven, he had everything he once dreamed of, and yet, something inside him had grown quiet. They stopped at the end of the hall.
There was a door. Sleek, silver, electronic lock glowing faintly red. A small digital display blinked beside it, waiting for authorization.
Ryan took out his card. He didn't meet Kai's eyes.
"Ryan…" Kai began slowly, suspicion threading through his tone, "What's this?"
Ryan just smiled faintly, that infuriatingly calm, knowing smile. "You'll see."
He pressed his ID card against the detector. A soft beep. The light flicked green. The door slid open.
Light. That was the first thing that hit him: a warm, golden flood of light spilling into the hallway like sunrise breaking through clouds. Kai blinked, instinctively lifting a hand to shield his eyes. And then He froze. The world beyond that door… it was his.
His breath caught as he stepped in. The room no, the hall was enormous, transformed into something between a museum and a memory. The walls were draped with screens, photographs, and delicate hanging spotlights. The air was filled with soft instrumental music, the kind that swells and fades like waves on a shore. And everywhere, absolutely everywhere, was him.
The first poster from his debut film, The Forgotten Star, is framed elegantly in the center.
A section filled with old scripts highlighted, scribbled upon with his messy handwriting.
His first costume, worn out, patched, framed behind glass. Every corner whispered his story.
Kai stood still, utterly speechless. His heart thudded hard against his ribs. He took a slow step forward, as though afraid that the whole vision might vanish if he moved too fast.
"What… what is this?" he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan exhaled softly behind him, finally breaking his silence. "This..." he said with quiet pride, "is you. Ten years of Kai Arden."
Kai turned to him, still disoriented. "You..."
Ryan nodded. "The team wanted to do something special. You've been away for a week, working yourself to exhaustion. We all wanted… to remind you what it's all been for."
His throat felt dry. He wanted to say something, but words, for once, failed him. He walked forward slowly, his gaze traveling over each frame, each artifact. Every step took him deeper into a tunnel of his own past.
There was a wall filled with photographs, behind-the-scenes shots. Laughter frozen in time. His co-stars smiling, his director clapping, and he pulling a funny face while holding a coffee cup. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "They kept this one?" he muttered.
Then he saw the photo of his first award ceremony. He remembered the unscripted speech he gave that night, the way his heart had pounded when his name was called. He could still feel the weight of that trophy, not the metal, but the moment.
And suddenly, the air seemed heavier. He passed another section titled "The Journey."
It showed posters of every movie he'd done, from flops to blockbusters. Beneath each, his team had added handwritten notes.
"Even when this one didn't work, your dedication never wavered. You taught us that passion matters more than perfection."
— Production Team
"You stayed after hours to help with the script. That's the kind of actor you are."
— Assistant Director, 2018
Kai read each line, his eyes blurring slightly. His jaw tightened as he fought the lump rising in his throat. He hadn't realized, not fully, how deeply he had touched the people around him.
Ryan stayed behind him, quietly watching. He'd seen the plans unfold for weeks, the sketches, the midnight preparations, the arguments about lighting and layout. He'd seen the way every employee had poured their heart into it. And he'd known, all along, that this moment would break Kai open in the best way.
As Kai reached the far end of the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks. The centerpiece. A massive digital display showing a montage of clips. From his first screen test to his latest film trailer. Laughter, tears, monologues, and behind-the-scenes all woven together with the same music playing softly in the background.
In the middle of it all, one line appeared on the screen —
"Ten years of passion. Ten years of dreams. Ten years of Kai Arden."
And then video messages. One by one, his co-stars appeared, smiling into the camera.
"Ten years, Kai! You're an inspiration."
"You made us believe in stories again."
"You're not just a star...you're the light that makes everyone shine brighter."
Then came his staff makeup artists, assistants, drivers, and managers. Each with a small message. Each genuine. And finally, the last clip. Ryan.
Kai turned sharply toward him, startled, but Ryan just raised his hands in surrender, smirking. On the screen, Ryan's voice filled the room.
"You always say it's the fans that made you. Maybe that's true. But don't forget it's you who made us believe that loyalty still means something in this industry. You gave us not just work… but pride. This exhibition is just our way of saying thank you, boss. For being more than a name on a poster. For being human."
The screen faded to black. Kai stood there, utterly still. His vision blurred, not from the brightness of the lights but from something far deeper. He blinked hard, but the tears came anyway.
He exhaled shakily, the sound breaking somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You idiots," he muttered, voice cracking. "You all planned this behind my back."
Ryan grinned, walking up beside him. "What can I say? We're good at keeping secrets."
Kai shook his head, laughing softly, but his eyes stayed fixed on the wall, his expression softening into something Ryan had rarely seen: vulnerability.