Jax’s eyes snapped open at 4:47 AM.
Three hours early. Three hours to prepare for what might be the most important day of his life, or at least the most important quest deadline.
He rolled out of bed
His bag sat open on the desk. Ti to pack the essentials.
Comb. Check. Perfu, the expensive one he’d bought yesterday at Neo Veridia’s luxury district. Check. Mouth freshener. Check.
Then the optimistic additions: a small bottle of lube and a dozen of condom.
Jax paused, staring at them.
’What the fuck am I doing?’
He threw them in anyway. ’Hope dies last, I guess.’
Last night, he’d sent Thalia a ssage on InstaRlight, the academy’s ssaging app. A whole paragraph asking what to wear: ’Royal casual? Fancy ethnic? Tailored suit? Traditional formal?’
Her reply ca two hours later.
[Thalia: Just wear your school uniform.]
That was it. No elaboration. No emoji. Nothing.
Jax had stared at the screen, blinking. ’I wrote a dissertation and got a text ssage back.’
He typed: [Seriously?]
No response.
’Tssk.’ Won.
By 7:30 AM, Jax stood at the exact coordinates Thalia had sent him, a massive open-air studio lot on the outskirts of Neo Veridia.
Spotlights. Caras. Crew mbers buzzing around like ants.
It all felt... familiar. Too familiar.
Stage. Lights. Crowd. The sa shit he’d dealt with at every tournant. Just swap controllers for scripts.
’Boring.’
A staff mber approached, a skinny guy with a clipboard and the energy of soone who’d had six coffees. "Mr. Rayne! Punctual! I like that."
Jax nodded. "Yeah, well..."
"Great! Lady Beatrix will arrive in about an hour. Here’s your script." The man shoved a stack of papers into Jax’s hands. "You’ve got one hour to morize your lines. Room’s over there for privacy. Makeup artist will be with you shortly."
Before Jax could respond, the guy was already gone.
’Gulp.’
He looked down at the script.
Title: Echoes of Yesterday
’Pss.’ Pretentious na.
Inside the prep room, a middle-aged woman with bright pink lipstick and a toolbox of costics descended on him like a hawk.
"Sit."
Jax sat.
She tilted his face left. Right. Squinted. "Hmm. Good bone structure. Clear skin. You’ll photograph well."
’Is that a complint or an autopsy report?’
Brushes attacked his face. Powder. Foundation. Sothing that slled like vanilla and regret.
Ten minutes later, she stepped back. "Done. You look... great."
"Thanks?" Jax muttered.
She left without another word.
Alone, Jax flipped open the script.
His role: Daniel Cross, a high school boy dying of an unnad terminal illness. The tragic first love of the heroine, Elena Harrow, played by Beatrix.
He skimd the plot. Romantic flashbacks. Emotional goodbyes. Deathbed confessions.
His character dies at the end.
’Of course I fucking die.’
He crushed the script in frustration. The paper crumpled with a satisfying crunch.
Then he paused.
’Wait.’
He smoothed it back out, scanning the final scene again.
There, at the very end, was The Kiss Scene.
Elena kisses Daniel one last ti before he flatlines.
Jax’s lips curled into a grin. ’Okay. Maybe dying isn’t so bad.’
He could work with this.
A knock at the door jolted him upright.
The clipboard guy poked his head in. "Lady Beatrix has arrived. Shooting starts in fifteen minutes. Please report to the main stage for blocking rehearsal."
Jax stood, stuffing the script into his bag. ’Showti.’
The main stage was chaos.
Caras on rails. Lights being adjusted. A director barking orders into a headset.
And there, in the center of it all, was Beatrix Steele.
She wore the academy uniform. White blouse, navy skirt, knee-high socks.
But the way she wore it? Illegal.
The skirt hugged her hips. The blouse stretched across her chest, buttons straining. Her legs, toned, flawless, impossibly long, seed to glow under the stage lights.
Jax’s mouth went dry. His pants tightened.
’Fuck.’
A stylist was pulling Beatrix’s dark hair into a high ponytail, transforming her from goddess to schoolgirl in seconds.
She laughed at sothing the director said, her voice like wind chis.
Jax tried to focus on the blocking instructor, a short man demonstrating stage movents, but his eyes kept drifting back to her.
Thud. Thud. Thud. His heartbeat was too loud.
Then Beatrix turned.
Their eyes t.
She smiled, playful, knowing, and gestured at him with a mock scolding finger, as if to say: ’Pay attention, idiot.’
Jax snapped back to reality, face burning. ’Shit.’
He imdiately forgave the director for the tight uniform. In fact, the man was a genius.
Fifteen minutes later, Beatrix walked toward him.
He didn’t see her approach. He slled her first. Vanilla and jasmine. The sa scent from the Queen’s Ball.
"Hi, Jax."
He turned. She was right there, close enough to touch.
"We’re eting each other quite a lot these days, huh?" she said, her tone light and teasing.
Jax’s brain stuttered. ’A lot? It’s been three tis.’
"Yeah," he managed. "I an, it’s only three tis now. But eting soone like you even once is a dream for most people. And today? I’m not just lucky enough to watch you act. I get to be part of it."
Her expression shifted.
Playful beca serious.
"What do you an by act, my love?"
Jax blinked. ’What?’
Her voice dropped, trembling with emotion. "Do you think my love is just an act?"
"M... Madam Beatrix, I’m sorry..." ’Wait, why the fuck am I apologizing?’
She grabbed his collar, yanking him forward. Her eyes burned into his. "Who is this Beatrix, Daniel? Are you cheating on ?!"
Jax’s mind went blank.
His heart hamred. His throat closed. He felt like he’d actually betrayed her.
’What the hell is happening?!’
"STOP THE ACT, BEATRIX!"
A voice cut through the tension.
The director stord over, glaring at her. "You’re going to make the kid cry for sothing he didn’t even do!"
Beatrix released Jax’s collar, grinning like a cat who’d caught a mouse. "Oh, co on. I was just practicing my role."
The director pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have two children. You’re one of the most respected figures in this world. And yet, your childish tantrums never stop."
"I was being a good student and a loving girlfriend!" Beatrix protested, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"You don’t even have your script yet!" the director snapped. "What were you practicing?!"
"Ahhh, you got ." She shrugged. "My assistant gave a summary. I can morize my lines in a minute anyway. No big deal."
The director groaned, handing her the script. "Five minutes until the read through. Please behave."
Beatrix winked at Jax as she walked away, her professional mask sliding back into place.
Jax stood frozen.
’She called Daniel.’
’She stayed in character to fuck with .’
’And I fell for it like an idiot.’
He exhaled sharply. ’Maybe it’s the air that makes the boy’s dumb in this world. Or maybe it’s just her .’
The First Read Through
Jax and Beatrix sat across from each other at a small table. The script lay between them like a treaty.
Director Ren leaned against a cara rig, arms crossed. "Let’s do a cold read. No pressure. Beatrix, you’ve done this a thousand tis. Jax, just be honest. That’s all I need."
Beatrix nodded. She glanced at the script once, then looked up at Jax.
Her eyes softened. Her posture shifted.
She beca Elena.
"You promised forever," she said, voice trembling. "You said we’d graduate together. Travel the world. Grow old..."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Jax’s chest tightened. ’She’s not even trying. She just... is.’
He looked down at his line.
"Forever was never mine to promise," he read, voice flat.
Beatrix leaned forward, desperation bleeding into her tone. "Don’t do that. Don’t be noble. Be selfish. Fight for us. Fight for ."
Jax forced the next line out. "I am fighting. Every day. But I’m losing, Elena. And I need you to let go."
Silence.
Director Ren rubbed his temples. "Cut. Okay. That was... a start. Beatrix, perfect as always. Jax..."
’Here it cos.’
"You’re thinking too much. This boy is dying. He’s terrified. But he’s trying to be brave for the girl he loves. Find that."
Jax nodded stiffly.
But inside, his mind was screaming.
’How the fuck do I act like I’m dying when I’ve never felt more ALIVE?’
’She’s right there. Her voice sounds like a song I want on repeat. Her eyes are burning into .’
’I can give a victory speech. I can trash talk mid ga. I can break people.’
’But this? Acting? Pretending to feel sothing I’ve never felt before?’
He glanced at Beatrix, who was reviewing her lines with effortless grace.
’I’m so fucked.’
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