"Son, your 22nd birthday gift is waiting~"
My father's voice cut through my concentration just as I was drowning in yet another failed song. I was so deep in frustration that even the mention of a gift couldn't stir any excitement.
"Yes?" I sighed, turning to look at him, burnout written clearly across my face.
I barely had time to rub my tired eyes or set down my part-time glasses before he grabbed me. His grip was so sudden and strong that I felt my arm joint might snap.
"D-Dad?!—"
He just smirked with the excitement of someone receiving a gift himself, not giving one. He dragged me toward our grand living room, practically pulling me out of my chair.
"You're going to be a star! Like us!" he announced. "And your requirements are already here—your own worth, not our shadow. Real fame. No more paid lovers for you~"
"What?"
My throat went dry.
I almost wanted to believe it. Because the truth was, I'd always lived in the shadow of my parents and brother. Every compliment I received for my songs came from people they paid. Every praise felt hollow. My music wasn't actually good—it was just... tolerated.
When we entered the living room, four strangers sat on the couch, looking excited about some deal involving my father. Or me.
My mom and brother were already there. My brother looked like he'd been pulled from his script memorization—he was still holding it, but his smile never wavered.
No wonder they cast him as the Smiling Exorcist.
The strangers studied me with interest.
"Oh, Mr. Hùa, your son has your face and Lady Hùa's features combined!"
"Why haven't you shown him to the media before?"
"We already feel like he could work..."
Then one added, "Just one more test to run."
My mother chuckled softly behind her hand. My brother winked at me—a tiny "good luck" for something I still didn't understand.
My father? He puffed his chest out with pride, his deep voice smooth as aged wine under spotlights. "Of course he is. Just like me."
They looked at me like I was Cinderella and they'd just found the glass slipper.
I'm not joking.
They handed me something to wear. A simple black robe with a tight crimson and silver waist belt—the kind that would probably show off my embarrassingly small waist.
Yes, embarrassed. Because no one would ever mistake me for a man if I wore this with a wig. I'd look like I belonged in a different century.
"Could you wear it and show us a little, boy? We need to see how you look and move," one of them said.
I stared at the robe. Black? In this heat? It would absorb sunlight like juice through a straw.
I pressed my lips together. I barely posted pictures of myself online, and now they wanted me to model?
My father patted my back with a smirk. "Go on. Don't stand there like a statue."
I sighed, nodded, and retreated to my room.
After several minutes of wrestling with the black fabric—it fought back like a python, and I couldn't tell which side was which—I emerged.
I was already sweating. I usually wear loose clothes, like a peaceful animal wrapped in comfort. This waist belt made me hyperaware of every inch of my body.
I looked like half modern, half historical fiction. My hair was short in the back—too contemporary for this outfit.
They watched as I stepped in.
Silence.
Then one of them spoke, his tone satisfied. "Alright, boy. Now say this line: 'Wèi Yīlíng will join the Hàngwō.'"
My lips parted. The name sounded familiar—maybe I'd heard it somewhere before.
Maybe from murmurs of girls at my collage.
I cleared my throat hesitantly and delivered the line with a dumbfounded expression, having no idea what I was actually saying.
"Wèi Yīlíng... will join the Hàngwō."
I pointed shakily at my own chest, trying to make the words feel real instead of scripted. At least I knew that much—I was born into an actor's family.
They nodded to themselves, then enthusiastically shook my father's hand.
"He's the one, sir! Our next fresh face for a cult classic!"
"We can't cast anyone else for this role!"
"He was made to play him!"
"Yes, yes—my son for your next drama's main lead," my father agreed.
I blinked.
What?
I slipped closer to my brother and whispered, "What did he just agree to? How is this my birthday gift?"
"You've been chosen for a new drama," he murmured back. "Reincarnated As The Tearstone Blade. The main lead. He arranged it so you could become an actor too."
I stared at him like a coconut had just fallen from the sky and landed on my head.
"...Seriously? "