Chapter 1: The Scene That Changed Everything
The entire fifth floor of a private hospital had been rented for the shooting of an AxisPlay drama titled To Your Heart.
One of the empty wards on the floor had been turned into an ICU for shooting. Cables ran across the floor, cameras stood on metal tracks, and floodlights turned the sterile white walls into something closer to a stage.
AxisPlay was a mid-sized streaming platform—safe, practical, and trustworthy.
Their dramas seldom ended in disaster, but they also rarely achieved hit status, with the occasional exception of successful productions like To Your Heart.
Budgets were calculated down to the last cable tie. Shooting schedules were ruthless. Overtime meant arguments with producers, and delays meant angry calls from the platform.
Tonight, the production was hanging by a thread.
Director Venste Morel stood at the foot of the hospital bed, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight as a rod.
His eyes never left the actress lying motionless beneath the lights.
This was the final episode of the first season.
The last chance to leave an impression strong enough to secure a second season.
Once, Venste Morel had been a respected name. He had directed award-winning dramas, worked with top-tier actors, and commanded large crews that trusted his instincts.
Then came the quiet decline.
Not scandals. Not humiliating failures.
Just projects that performed… acceptably.
Good enough to survive. Not good enough to be remembered.
Producers stopped fighting to work with him. Investors stopped calling first. He was still employed—but no longer chased.
To Your Heart was supposed to be his comeback.
At forty-two, Venste Morel carried himself with rigid discipline. His short auburn hair was streaked with gray, his goatee trimmed with almost obsessive precision. Round glasses rested on his sharp nose, framing eyes that noticed everything and tolerated very little.
Those eyes were ice-cold right now.
"Cut. That's good. We have it."
The assistant director's voice broke the silence.
Then—
"Alright, that's a wrap for the male lead's part!"
The ward exploded into motion.
Camera operators pushed their rigs backward along the tracks. Lighting technicians adjusted stands and swapped filters. A makeup artist hurried to the male lead, dabbing sweat from his forehead while whispering encouragement.
The heart monitor beside the bed continued its mechanical rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Only one scene remained.
The final shot.
To Your Heart was a romance/thriller drama. It was a drama about two school friends who studied at the same university, did the same major, and took the same career in the same firm.
They both become reporters in the same network, and then comes the usual banter and enemies-to-lovers trope; however, under Venste Morel's direction, it was executed perfectly.
The drama had already received high ratings, viewership, and popularity.
Only the final episode was left to air.
In this episode, the heroine is attacked by the villain, a businessman who has committed numerous crimes to reach his current position.
Both the hero and heroine investigates his crimes along the way, and when the villain finds out about this, he decides to make them disappear.
The hero survives the attack, but the heroine was not so lucky. She slipped into a coma, trapped between recovery and death.
On the ICU bed lay the heroine, eyes closed, skin pale under the lights. Transparent tubes ran beneath the blanket, connecting her to softly humming machines.
The male lead had just finished kneeling by her side, voice hoarse as he blamed himself for failing to protect her.
Now came the final hook of the season.
A new character.
A man who had loved her quietly since childhood.
A lawyer who would later become the male lead's ally in hunting down the villain.
The camera was supposed to catch him standing beside the bed, eyes filled with restrained grief, promising that she will receive justice.
A calm, steady presence.
A promise of what was to come.
A mysterious entrance.
A perfect hook to keep viewers waiting for the next season.
But the actor was nowhere to be seen.
Venste checked his watch.
His thumb tapped the metal frame once.
Again.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Where is he?" he asked flatly.
The assistant director, Mikhail, a twenty-six-year-old with messy red hair, jogged over, nearly tripping over a cable in his hurry.
"Director… um… there's an issue."
Venste didn't turn.
"What kind of issue?"
Mikhail hesitated for a second and then blurted it out. "He's not coming."
Venste finally looked at him.
"Explain."
"He—he accepted another role in Thames Maron's new drama. Bigger part, better exposure. He took it this afternoon."
For half a second, Venste didn't move.
Then he straightened so suddenly that the chair behind him scraped loudly across the floor.
"You're telling me," Venste said slowly, "that an actor walked out on a production without any prior notice?"
The ward went silent.
Even the makeup artists froze mid-step.
Mikhail's voice dropped. "It was Thames Maron's condition for the actor if he wanted that role. He asked him to not inform us until it was too late. The actor called just a few minutes ago to inform us about the whole situation."
Venste let out a sharp breath through his nose.
Thames Maron.
Of course it was him.
Their rivalry had lasted over a decade—always polite in interviews, always smiling at award shows, and always trying to sabotage each other behind the scenes.
Venste laughed quietly, without humor.
"He really doesn't change," he gritted his teeth. "Stealing actors mid-shoot… what a classy move."
Because the role was small, no contract was signed.
Signing a contract required them to pay him more than what they could spare so they skipped it.
And now they had nothing to fight with.
Venste rubbed his temples.
"What time is it?"
Mikhail glanced at his phone. "Five forty."
Venste's mind raced.
Editing still had to be done. Sound design. Color correction. Platform approval. The episode was scheduled to go live tomorrow night.
There was no backup day.
No second chance.
Venste wasn't one to delay the shooting till the last day, but he had no choice in the matter. The male lead of the drama was a rising star in the industry. He was working on two dramas at once. His dates were only available to shoot today.
"And the male lead?" Venste asked.
"He has another shoot in another city at dawn," Mikhail said. "He can't stay longer."
Perfect.
Just perfect.
Venste lowered his hand slowly.
"Call the agencies," he said. "Ask for emergency replacements."
Mikhail winced. "Director… they won't move that fast. And we're not exactly in the entertainment capital of the country. Even if someone agrees, contracts alone will take hours."
Venste stared at the floor for a moment.
They were in a location where shooting was rare. If it was the entertainment capital, they could just go into any of the studios and borrow an actor, but here, it was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Then Venste inquired, "What about actors I've worked with before?"
"That might work," Mikhail said quickly. "But even then, travel time alone could take until midnight to reach here."
"I know," Venste muttered. "Do it anyway."
At times like this, connections came in handy.
Mikhail nodded and turned to run—
"Wait." Venste called out.
Mikhail stopped mid-step.
Venste's gaze drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused, calculating.
Any actor they called will make it there by midnight.
Till then they would have to wait idly without doing anything.
More than six hours were left until midnight.
Six hours of dead time if they just waited.
If the situation was already desperate… why not take a risk?
Venste exhaled slowly.
"Have someone else make those calls," he said. "You have another task."