𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃

ELEVEN.

PAST

(Seven years old)

"—And then, my mother went all ballistic—"

Y/n made a mental note to check the dictionary on what 'ballistic' meant.

"—and said I wasn't putting enough effort into acting. That it was some priceless craft. A tradition, passed down from one generation to another. She wanted to name me Xing Hui, not Xin Hui, because Xing in Chinese meant star, but my father insisted on the name. She told me the story multiple times." Xin Hui's voice was monotonous. Bored, even. Like this was a common occurrence.

Y/n admired it. But at the same time, he was worried. And terrified.

"But I don't care," He finished off, "who really cares, right?"

Okay. Now this was terrifying. From the smile on his lips—there wasn't any blood on it, but there was some sort of madness to it. Some sort of...

Xin Hui was the same age as him. But there was a depravity to him. Precisely because he was seven and had already witnessed the atrocities of the entertainment industry, along with his starlet mother who constantly brought younger men home, along with his father who paid him no attention and spewed lies at him—his mind didn't belong to a mere child. It didn't belong to an adult, either. In fact, his mind worked frighteningly close to a sociopath's.

"Stop lying," was what Y/n eventually said. He kept his tone calm, measured.

"Hmm?"

"You're really easy to read, you know," Y/n narrowed his eyes, face taking on a childish, petulant expression, "are you acting now and pretending to be my friend?"

Jesus. You're so hard to read, Xin Hui. Yes, that is an admirable quality for an actor, but as a human, it makes it so terribly creepy! Stop staring at me with those eyes! God. You look just like a...a...serial killer! You make it so hard for me to love you.

"I'm easy to read?" Xin Hui repeated incredulously, "me?"

"Or maybe I just got used to it," Y/n corrected, "but you haven't answered my question. Are you pretending to be my friend?"

"What?" Xin Hui blinked, "of course I'm not. I'm not pretending to be your friend. I...I genuinely like you. A lot."

"Okay," Y/n gave a sigh of relief, "phew. I really thought.."

"Don't be ridiculous, N/n." He ruffled Y/n's hair affectionately, "come. I got some movies in the house. Want to come watch them?"

Y/n brightened up.

But I have a grandmother to take care of..

Whatever.

"Sure!"

—

PRESENT

"Your popularity grew," Haneul observed, "like tremendously. And now the management has started to blur—to censor your full body, after some rumors sprouted up."

Y/n took a sip of his coffee, rolling his eyes.

"I still don't remember giving them any permission."

"You know what the industry's like, don't you?" Haneul gave a weary sigh, "well, my inner fangirl is very, very happy—but as your friend, I'm pissed on your behalf. How could the CEO allow this? It's downright shitty. Can't you file a lawsuit for privacy reasons?"

"Where would I afford a lawyer?" Y/n shrugged, "this is how annoying entertainment has always been. Useless, money-grubbing scumbags. But Damian did say I would get a portion of the money, along with the manager position salary."