....
[Three Days Later]
....
The audition process had entered its next phase.
With the two male lead characters - Light Turner and L - being finalized, Regal's focus shifted to filling the remaining major roles.
He already had a few nas in mind for key supporting characters, but the influx of audition tapes, around twenty-five, from Iconique Talent Agency had significantly widened the pool.
Most of the major roles were close to being locked in, Light's mother, his sister, a couple of detectives, and Watari, L's ever-reliable spokesperson.
Currently, only two crucial roles remain.
Jas Turner - Light's father.
And the female lead - Mia Sutton.
Though Regal already had soone 'prepared' for the latter.
....
Regal had been at this for hours.
Alone... Expect for the assistant responsible for arranging the prop in between.
Simon and Darren had other things to oversee, leaving him to sift through the long parade of hopefuls by himself.
Thankfully, Samantha was still outside, managing the flow of candidates - her steady presence keeping the process from descending into chaos.
Regal sat in the sa chair, flipping through audition notes, as one actor after another stepped in, delivered their lines, and walked out.
So were promising.
A few had co back to try their luck for another role.
A couple were acceptable, with most being forgettable.
But none had nailed it.
The search for Mia Sutton dragged on.
So did the search for Light's father.
Regal's fingers paused against the page of his notes, eyes flicking up - ready, once again.
....
Just before the door opened, there was another person, the assistant in the room besides Regal.
He is young, around the sa age as Regal.
His na is - Alexander Tobias.
Yeah, too overbearing, and without a doubt the person himself thought so too all his life. But it was already too late.
If anyone ever heard him muttering, 'That damned old granny–' under his breath, they could probably guess where the na ca from.
Anyhow. Right now, Alexander was working as the props arranger in this audition room for [Death Note].
His job was simple - pass them the script and sotis be the lines reader for the auditioner, set up equipnt for the candidates, adjust anything that looked off, and make sure everything ran smoothly.
His first ti working with Regal had been on [Following], where he had done just about everything except act - clapboard duty, lighting, arranging prop pieces, and even makeup for a couple of tis.
However, despite that, he was never involved in anything that required stepping in front of a cara.
He had been that bad.
Not that admitting it ant he lacked confidence.
It just ant he wasn't good at it.
For now, he had finished changing the script papers and took a seat in the corner, making sure to stay out of the way.
From there, he watched.
Then—
The door opened. Alexander turned his head.
A man stepped inside.
!?His eyes widened imdiately.
He nearly fell despite being seated.
The man was tall, probably in his mid fifties, with sharp features that ti had refined rather than softened. He carried an air of authority - soone who didn't need to raise his voice to command attention.
Alexander's gaze imdiately flickered toward Regal.
Did he recognize this guy? Because if he didn't, Alexander was ready to jump in. He couldn't afford to let this man get irritated.
But then - Regal's posture shifted. There was intensity in his expression, a hint of respect.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
Alexander eased back.
His eyes returned to the man.
Ross Oakley.
A Hollywood heavyweight. A veteran so respected that, in his early years, people had thrown around comparisons to Stephen Hawking Sr.
An absurd comparison in hindsight, but back then?
It had stuck.
That's how great of an actor he was, so much so that people genuinely believed he could one day stand on equal ground with him.
But as ti passed, that comparison beca sothing else.
A curse.
One that lood over him, casting a shadow too vast to escape.
Because no matter how much talent he had, no matter how many roles he mastered or performances he delivered, he never quite reached that height.
Never quite beca him.
And yet - here he was.
Auditioning... Does he even need to do that?
For this film.
A project Alexander was working on.
Which ant - Would he actually get a chance to talk to him?
He sat up straighter, trying to maintain so level of professionalism.
But his eyes?
They practically sparkled. So much so that even Ross Oakley noticed.
"....." Their gazes t.
Alexander imdiately looked away.
Not out of disrespect.
He just... brushed it off.
No way Ross Oakley was looking at him.
Not in a million years.
But while Alexander was busy convincing himself of that—
Regal opened a system panel.
===
[Na:] Ross Oakley
[Traits:] Unreasonable, Strict, Good Will.
[Acting Grade:] S -
===
Regal let out a slow breath through his nose.
That explained a lot.
Ross had a reputation.
Not the good kind.
Hollywood was full of difficult people, but Ross? He was in a league of his own. A nightmare for production teams. A headache for directors.
Controlling. Demanding. Impossible to satisfy.
If there was a line between perfectionism and madness, Ross had crossed it a long ti ago. And if you were unlucky enough to be working with him, you had two choices, either bend to his way of doing things or break trying to fight him.
Common sense said a studio should have blacklisted soone like that years ago. But that never happened.
Because Ross Oakley was too good to ignore.
Despite his flaws, he was a three-ti Oscar nominee - an undeniable testant to his talent. Yet, not once had he set foot at the ceremony.
Any insider with a normal connection knew that the reason he had never won was because of his unfriendly conflicts with a few big figures and not because his performances fell short.
In the end, his attitude might be a headache, but his skills were undeniable.
People didn't want to put up with him - they had to.
So, they swallowed their pride.
Took a step back. Adjusted. Adapted.
Playing along with whatever mind gas he decided to run and anything to keep the production on track.
Regal had known all of this the second he saw Ross's na for the suitable candidates for Light's father, before inviting the man to the audition.
So he did his research.
And honestly? It wasn't as bad as the horror stories made it sound.
Ross wasn't a tyrant for the sake of it - though, granted, he was definitely annoying.
He liked to get under people's skin, push buttons and throw out absurd 'requests' that seed unreasonable at first glance. But if you actually thought about them?
They weren't that crazy - they were just frad in a way that made them sound worse than they were.
At the end of the day, he was just an old man who liked to have fun.
Who liked control.
Who liked winning.
Truthfully so? He had earned that right.
Regal just wished he could be a little less of a pain about it.
Now.
If anyone in Hollywood, director, producer, actor, or even so random guy like Alexander, with his basic understanding of the industry, had heard Regal's inner monologue at this mont - they would probably have a stroke.
Ross himself would probably be so dumbfounded he would trip over his own feet while standing still.
Because the interpretation Regal had reached?
It was so stupid.
So absurd.
So completely disconnected from reality... that it circled back around and almost made sense.
....
anwhile -
Alexander watched as Ross had already made his way to the opposite side of Regal's table.
He didn't say anything - Didn't greet Regal. Didn't introduce himself.
Just pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
The silence stretched between them.
A few beads of sweat ford on Alexander's forehead. He wiped them away with his palm.
This is going to be okay, right?
He really hoped so.
....
Regal glanced at his notes. "You are here for Jar Tuner?"
- and at the actor, Ross. He is wearing a formal suit and glasses.
Ross nodded once. "Yeah." His voice was low and steady.
Regal slid a script page across the table. "We are testing for emotional control. This is the scene where Light–" He paused.
Ross didn't need the rest of the sentence. If he had done his howork, and Regal knew he had, he already understood exactly which scene this was.
Regal leaned back slightly. "We can start whenever you are ready, Mr. Oakley."
A beat of silence.
Ross took the script, barely skimming it. With that, he got up from his seat and moved back a little.
Then, with a slow inhale, Ross shifted.
The broad-shouldered Hollywood star across from Regal faded, replaced by a man who had spent years chasing justice.
A father trying, desperately, to balance duty with love.
Ross had done this a hundred tis before.
Handed a script. Given a role. Told to perform.
And he would always make it his own.
So he did it again. But sotis, what he created wasn't what others expected to see.
And Alexander could tell.
He didn't know the exact lines by heart, but he had watched this scene unfold too many tis to count. He had seen other actors step into the sa role, delivering asured performances, each one solid, controlled and faithful to the script.
From that alone, he could tell—
Ross's take was different.
And he wasn't wrong.
For Ross, the words on the page were simply a foundation and nothing more.
The real magic ca in the gaps, the slight shifts in expression, the carefully placed pauses and the way he altered a line just enough to add a layer of depth no one had considered before.
Bluntly put... he was rewriting the dialogue. Not in an obvious, reckless way, but subtly, deliberately. Right in front of the director.
And this wasn't the kind of thing that could be dismissed as a spur-of-the-mont choice during filming.
For most actors, it would've been a risk.
To Ross? His jaw tightened, his hands pressed flat against the table as if holding himself back from slamming a fist against it.
"You think this is a joke?" Ross's voice was calm, but there was a razor's edge underneath it. A father's frustration, disappointnt, and sothing deeper - sothing breaking.
He lifted his gaze, eyes dark with unspoken grief.
Regal had seen a dozen different actors attempt this scene today.
They all played it as anger.
Fury.
A man outraged at his son's deception.
Ross played it as hurt.
A father looking at his son and realizing, truly realizing, that he didn't know him at all. And as he finished the last line, he allowed himself a small exhale, opening his eyes to see what kind of reaction he would get.
Would Regal throw a tantrum?
.
....
[To be continued...]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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