Inside the bar, energetic music and cheerful shouting echoed nonstop. Multicolored lights flashed again and again, and on the stage, a pole dancer moved with grace—each motion displaying their beautiful, powerful lines. Below, bodies tangled together, moving endlessly, dancing to the rhythm, money and fine liquor practically floating through the air.
Saphen sat at the bar, happily enjoying all of it.
6677 was about to wither on the spot.
They had been here for nearly a month, and every single day—every. single. day.—Saphen indulged himself with the perfectly reasonable excuse that he'd never gotten to visit places like this back when he was an actor.
After waiting so long for the first script to finally appear, Saphen even came to the bar to enjoy one last night, saying goodbye to his carefree days and preparing to return to being a script laborer.
[Saphen, stop drinking already, you have a mission later!]
Saphen couldn't help but laugh. His low chuckle carried a naturally seductive quality, and even after hearing it countless times, 6677 still blushed helplessly.
[You've been with me for a month and you still don't know what my alcohol tolerance is?]
6677 muttered: [You need to take the mission seriously…]
It grumbled for a while before directly going silent, looking like it was sulking.
Saphen found it amusing, but he didn't tease 6677 further. He simply set his glass down on the counter.
The bartender looked surprised, clearly not expecting Saphen to leave so early tonight. His gaze turned somewhat dazed: "Is today's cocktail not to your taste?"
Saphen had just pushed away a young man trying to approach him and walked out decisively—one hand in his pocket, the other lifted in a loose wave as if saying goodbye.
Seeing his unsteady gait, 6677 panicked: [You're really okay, right?!]
[Quiet.] Saphen replied softly, and 6677 could only accept its fate.
The moment Saphen stepped out of the bar, he heard the quick, heavy footsteps rushing past.
A group of men dressed like bodyguards swept through, moving with sharp precision, as if searching for something.
6677 immediately shrieked: [It's the script!]
Saphen casually dug a finger into his ear, his voice soft as silk: [If you keep screaming like that, consider getting out of my head.]
6677: […sorry.]
If only Saphen's words could be as gentle as his tone.
As usual, Saphen headed home along his normal route. His identity in this world was straightforward: growing up poor and unable to afford school, he started working as soon as he turned eighteen. Now, he was a full-time barista at a nearby milk tea shop.
Ever since arriving here, Saphen had always lived according to the script.
Of course, today—rather than returning along his usual brightly lit path—he chose to spice things up and take a dark, deserted alley instead.
Why? Because that's what the script said.
The moment he stepped into the alley, a shadow suddenly lunged toward him with incredible speed!
But Saphen's reflexes were anything but slow—he sidestepped perfectly.
Because of that, Cain—currently covered in blood and injuries—completely lost control of his body and collapsed face-first onto the ground.
[NO!!! THE MALE LEAD'S FACE!!!]
6677 shrieked as if witnessing a horror movie.
Saphen chuckled:
[You still haven't shut up yet?]
6677 flinched and hurriedly sealed its metaphorical mouth.
At that moment, Saphen felt a large hand clamp tightly around his ankle, almost wrapping fully around it.
He lowered his gaze and saw the man lifting his head toward him—his face blurred by blood, his eyes barely open as he stared at Saphen, filled with nothing but a desperate will to live.
"Help… help me… don't… hospital…"
His words were slurred and broken. Saphen slowly crouched down, bringing their faces much closer.
He smiled. "You want me to save you, but won't let me take you to a hospital? You're asking for a lot…"
Cain struggled to look at the young man before him—then suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood and passed out entirely. Even then, the hand clutching Saphen's ankle didn't loosen in the slightest.
Saphen gently pried Cain's fingers loose one by one, then hoisted the man onto his back and carried him home.
Cain was heavy—his whole body almost completely overshadowed Saphen, though Saphen was by no means weak or delicate.
Throughout the whole process, 6677 didn't dare make a sound, terrified Saphen would get annoyed and toss Cain onto the street.
Fortunately, Saphen's residence was a standalone house—no stairs to climb.
Until he finally stepped inside the house, Saphen's breath was completely unsteady.
He dropped Cain onto the sofa, braced both hands on his knees, and had his mouth open as he gasped for air. One hand instinctively reached around to rub his lower back, making him look no different from an old man.
[I feel like I can't straighten my back anymore. Does this job come with workers' compensation or what?!]
6677 quickly said, [Congratulations on completing the first script! My goodness, you were absolutely amazing! I'll give you a free massage service!]
Saphen snorted, [What's a cat paw like yours even capable of?]
As long as Saphen was still teasing it, 6677 knew everything was fine.
Sure enough, once his breathing calmed, Saphen headed for the medicine cabinet.
The first step was to wipe the blood off Cain…
In the bright room, Saphen finally saw the male lead's face clearly.
He had bright blond hair and sharply defined features. His eyes were tightly shut, and his brows furrowed in discomfort, but even so, his cold, unapproachable aura was unmistakable. Only now, that handsome face was covered in injuries, with bruises at the corner of his lips and cheek, and blood trickling from his forehead.
By now, Saphen had already removed Cain's shirt, and the basin of water beside him had turned completely red. But Cain clearly didn't have injuries severe enough to produce that much blood. It obviously wasn't all his.
Suddenly, Saphen's eyes lit up.
"These muscles are no joke!"
Staring at Cain's perfectly sculpted physique, he couldn't help licking his lips. His fingertips trembled before finally pressing against Cain's abs.
A moment later, 6677 heard him marvel again,
"This area… worthy of the male lead, imposing!"
6677: […]
Everything before its eyes was still one big mosaic, but that tone of Saphen's…
Alright. It would pretend it understood none of it. It was a pure and innocent system, absolutely!
Cain's worst injury was probably the deep gash along his side. Luckily, the intestines weren't spilling out.
Fortunately, Saphen had enough supplies to handle everything.
At last, Saphen straightened up and exhaled. He glanced at Cain, sleeping on the sofa.
He was now dressed in clean clothes, his terrifyingly bloody appearance gone. He looked stable enough. After all, the protagonist definitely wasn't going to die.
A wave of dizziness finally hit Saphen—probably the alcohol.
He waved a hand dismissively. "Keep an eye on his condition. Call me if anything happens."
6677 responded immediately, [Understood, master!]
It was a peaceful night. Completing the first script so smoothly even let Saphen sleep a little better than usual.
Early the next morning.
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains and fell across Saphen's face, making his skin seem to glow.
He frowned faintly, stretched, and his sleepwear lifted slightly, revealing a slender waist with perfectly defined lean muscles. Even more eye-catching was the navel piercing glinting faintly in the light.
6677 tried its best to open its eyes wide, but everything remained a mosaic.
So unfair!
Saphen blinked, running a hand through his hair while yawning as he walked out of the room. His voice was still husky.
"Is the male lead awake?"
6677 instantly entered work mode: [He's awake.]
Just as 6677 finished speaking, Saphen saw the man who had been unconscious the previous night now sitting on the sofa.
The moment he saw Saphen, the man immediately stood up, his brows knitted tightly, his entire posture tense and on guard.