Inside a luxurious mansion in one of the city's most prestigious districts, the silence was broken only by uneven, hurried breathing. Rebeca Verne sat on the sofa, her chest rising and falling as if she had just escaped from a place devoid of air. Her hands rested on her knees, still trembling slightly.
- That was terrifying… - she murmured once she finally caught her breath. - That character… Sosuke Aizen…
Beside her, her mother remained quiet for a few seconds. Although she had never liked Alex-especially given his messy and far-from-admirable romantic reputation-there was no denying the impact of what she had just witnessed. Still shaken, she let out a comment laced with irony and personal frustration:
- Are men with real talent always scumbags?
The words slipped out before she could stop them. As soon as they hung in the air, she felt their weight. Memories from her youth-failed relationships and poorly made choices-surfaced without warning.
Deep down, a contradictory thought began to take shape. If Alex were consistent, if he were capable of devoting himself solely to her daughter… maybe she wouldn't be completely opposed to giving him a chance to pursue her seriously.
If Alex ever learned of that line of thinking, he would probably laugh until he lost his breath.
"Auntie… how old are you to still believe something like that?"
To him, that kind of innocence was almost endearing. Perhaps it would even be necessary to "educate" Rebeca a little before handing her back to her mother-not literally, of course, but shaping her to better understand reality. At the very least, it might help that overly sheltered mother-daughter duo realize how unforgiving the real world could be.
...
In another home, in a far more intimate setting, Alex noticed something was off.
- Sasha… what's with that look? Why are you staring at me like that?
He had felt her gaze for a while now. Lying beside him, her body still relaxed from exhaustion, Sasha watched him as if she were trying to see past the surface. There was caution in her eyes-a quiet alertness that hadn't been there before.
She looked away for a moment, glancing at the television where Bleach's ending theme still played, its melody filling the room with lingering emotion.
- I just… - she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. - I suddenly find you kind of scary.
Her tone wasn't playful. It was serious.
And, in a way, understandable.
The image of Sosuke Aizen that Alex had brought to life was far too powerful. Too cold. Too precise. So striking that it refused to stay confined to the screen. Even now, lying in his arms, Sasha couldn't stop an irrational thought from creeping in: what if he changed in the next second? What if that calm expression hid something far more dangerous?
Alex was momentarily speechless, then let out a short laugh, unsure whether to feel offended or amused.
- You're way too immersed - he said, trying to brush it off. - It's just acting.
But deep down, he knew there was some truth to it.
Being too good at acting had its downsides.
He recalled a veteran actor notorious for playing abusive men with unsettling realism-so convincingly that he once admitted he was afraid to go out in public for years. The man often said he was grateful that his most infamous role aired before the age of social media.
If it had been released today, the internet would have destroyed him.
Alex was starting to realize he was walking a similar path.
Aizen had grown too large.
So large that wherever Alex went, people no longer called him by his real name. It was always the same thing:
- Aizen!
Noticing that Sasha was still tense, Alex leaned in and placed several light kisses on her face until her body finally relaxed. Only then did he remember something important.
He picked up his phone, unlocked the screen, and quickly posted an update to his social media:
[Next week marks the finale of Bleach: Soul Society Arc. We appreciate everyone's support at the official Bleach merchandise store. All proceeds will be fully invested in the production of Bleach: Arrancar Arc.]
With the Soul Society arc nearing its conclusion, there was no better time to push sales and secure funding for what came next.
...
...
After the two episodes of the week aired, the outcome was exactly as expected.
Bleach once again completely dominated the trending charts. Keywords related to the series flooded the top rankings, pushing every other show into temporary obscurity.
Behind the scenes, the mood across the industry was far less cheerful.
Several dramas airing in the same time slot were practically grinding their teeth in frustration.
Every single week, it was the same story.
Every single week, Alex swooped in and stole all the attention.
And worse still-no one could compete.
Yet there was a clear difference from previous weeks.
Before, discussions among fans had been varied. People talked about Ichigo Kurosaki's reckless resolve, Renji Abarai's emotional burdens, and Byakuya Kuchiki's cold exterior hiding a quiet concern for his family. Each character had their moment, their fans, their place in the story.
It was this ensemble of complex personalities that had elevated the series into a nationwide phenomenon.
But this week was different.
Every conversation led to a single name.
Sosuke Aizen.
With the new semester approaching, university campuses began filling up again. Unlike middle and high schools bound by strict uniforms, colleges allowed free expression-and the result was unmistakable.
Shihakushō everywhere.
Half the university district looked like it had been taken over by shinigami. Among them, the most common sight was the white captain's haori with the number [5] emblazoned on the back-the unmistakable symbol of the Fifth Division's captain.
The latest episodes had pushed Aizen's popularity to absurd heights.
So high, in fact, that both the Fifth Division captain's haori and the zanpakutō Kyōka Suigetsu sold out completely in Alex's store.
And that was only the beginning.
Aizen's influence went far beyond merchandise. His lines spread like a virus.
The reason was simple: every word he spoke radiated presence. Absolute confidence. Refined arrogance.
Repeating even a single line made people feel elevated, as if they stood above everyone else.
And the most enthusiastic imitators were teenagers and college students-especially boys, all caught in that phase where conquering the world with grand words felt necessary.
For example…
On a university basketball court:
- Hey, Leonard! You playing or just watching? Let me show you how it's done!
The shout echoed across the court.
The guy being called out didn't hesitate. With a calm expression, he replied:
- Stepping over ants without crushing them requires extremely precise control of strength.
The reaction was immediate.
Laughter, gasps, playful jeers erupted all around.
But the other student, gripping the basketball, fired back without missing a beat:
- I suggest you watch your arrogance. Flaunting nothing but your weakness won't get you anywhere.
The court exploded with shouts and exaggerated reactions. The student felt a thrill ripple through every pore of his body, as if he had just achieved something monumental.
At the same time, in a far less forgiving setting…
Inside a teachers' office, a homeroom teacher glared at the student standing before him.
- Why didn't you do your summer homework?
The student had his hair slicked back, a single strand falling over his forehead. He raised his head calmly and replied:
- Oh? So you've already noticed that I didn't do it? You've grown. I'm pleased.
The silence lasted half a second.
Then came the consequence.
A formal disciplinary warning, recorded without appeal.
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