Peter of Binsfeld was a German theologian and one of the most notorious witch-hunters of the 16th century. Having lived for nearly sixty years, he died a victim of the bubonic plague.
He is best known for his classification of demons and the treatise De confessionibus maleficorum et sagarum, which discusses the confessions of those accused of witchcraft.
Although he was not the first to write a classification system based on the seven deadly sins, his version became the most prominent.
Most feared among their kind, the seven demons tempting humanity by means of their sin are known as the Seven Princes of Hell.
The script—written in English—revolved around an organized crime family being run by seven brothers, each a personification of one of the princes of Hell.
'This is amazing,' Averie thought, rereading the synopsis. 'If done perfectly, this could become a great work.'
The script had commercial value as well as artistic sense. Averie wouldn't have spared it a glance if it didn't possess the latter. He hated works that solely focused on pleasing a certain audience and nothing else. But this script—it was gold.
'I want it.'
He glanced at Hyerin, who had fallen asleep on the bed. Constant exhaustion had taken its toll on her. And now she lay there, curled in a fetal position.
Averie didn't care to wake her up. He was happy to tuck her in, sing her lullabies, and kiss her goodnight if only she promised to bring him such exceptional scripts.
Out of curiosity, he looked through the other scripts. But none of them interested him. They were more or less about romance. It irked Averie.
'Who watches this much romance?' he wondered. 'You must either be a child or entirely braindead to enjoy such rot. No intelligent being could enjoy this.'
Averie was a bit biased. Since the beginning of his career, he had hated works with heavy romance. All the works that focused exclusively on romance followed the same pattern. There was no surprise in the outcome. He knew the beginning, and he could predict the end; would the journey be enjoyable then?
He liked tragedies, though. Being aware of the misery that awaited the characters at the end only added to the experience. A melancholic end did not make the work feel unsatisfying. Rather, it elevated the rest. Taking pleasure in another's demise may seem sadistic, but there was art in it.
Such art was present in the script that Averie now held.
'All it needs is my solemn genius.'
And he knew what character he wanted to play. It was a role that required more than just acting. It was a role that required a person with certain charms. Most actors in the world wouldn't be able to do it justice. If not done right, it ran the risk of becoming a mediocre character, exhausting and offending the audience in the process.
'Only I can make this role as impactful as it is supposed to be.'
With that thought, Averie walked up to the mirror. Making sure Hyerin was asleep, he unbuttoned his shirt and checked the condition of his body. It was lean and slightly tanned—aesthetically pleasing without being one bit muscular. It was perfect for the role.
Like an experienced model, Averie parted his lips into a flirtatious smile, flaunting his perfect teeth. His eyes glowed with a debaucherous glint as he stared at his enrapturing reflection. The sensuous expression he wore had the power to intoxicate men and women alike. But like a drug, it would keep them desiring for more.
"Asmodeus, the embodiment of Lust," Averie whispered.
It was a role that would come across as expendable in the synopsis. It had fewer lines than the main roles. But Averie thought it had the most potential of any character in the work, equaling that of Satan. It was a role for the most sophisticated of actors.
'Only I can make you complete, Asmodeus.'
After striking a few more poses, Averie returned to his desk. He needed to research similar roles played by previous actors and if there were any that left a lasting legacy. Observing a predecessor teaches one the most important lesson—what not to do. He also needed to look up articles on the show—if there were any.
But his eyes kept straying to the drawer where the diary of previous Averie was kept. He wanted to know more about him and the girl sleeping on his bed. Despite the weariness, he spent the whole night alternating between the laptop and the diary.
Hours later, he knew all he needed to know.
'Born in the UK, you found yourself a foreigner when brought to rural Korea. And this little thing helped you acclimatize, huh.' Averie turned to face Hyerin. 'The only person who cared to pronounce your name properly—your only friend.'
For a minute, he stared at her thoughtfully.
'You moved to Seoul a year apart. Mandatory service kept you away for two years, but calls and messages kept the two in contact. So close since childhood that not being together on weekends has become an unfathomable thought.'
He played with the diary as he sat in the dark.
'I am surprised that this relationship hasn't bloomed into something more. You don't have any other friends, and you get bored of jobs. We aren't so different, Averie. But then, why did you kill yourself?'
But no matter how much Averie thought, he couldn't come up with an answer.
As dawn broke, Hyerin opened her eyes. Contrary to Averie's expectations, she didn't seem one bit alarmed that she had fallen asleep in his bed.
"Coffee?" he asked as she sat rubbing her eyes.
Hyerin nodded, yawning as she fell back into the warmth of the bed.
It wasn't very hard to get her out of bed once the smell of coffee had pervaded the air.
"You didn't sleep?" she asked, perching herself on the counter while her friend made eggs.
"Couldn't," Averie answered. "That kept me awake."
He pointed towards the worn script lying on the desk.
"You were reading the script all night?"
Hyerin looked surprised. She got up and sauntered towards it.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "This one, huh."
"What's wrong with that script? Why is it labelled urgent?"
"It's nearing the end of preproduction, but casting isn't complete."
"What? Why?"
"Well, it's complicated," she sighed.
She didn't seem to want to talk about work, but Averie wasn't about to let up. He placed a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of her.
"Tell me."
Hyerin couldn't resist. Who didn't like eggs with their coffee in the morning?
"It's a script for a confirmed drama series. Announcements haven't yet been made, but they will be soon. The production company is Elvin Productions; they are big in the drama scene. Streaming and broadcasting rights have been sold already."
She took a big bite out of her toast, washing it down with some coffee.
"But," she continued, pointing the fork at her friend, "it has some problems. It goes against the market. Housewives like romance and nonsensical drama. It lacks that."
She tapped the coffee mug for a refill.
"The writer did not take into consideration what sells and what does not. She only cared about the quality of the product, which makes the probability of success extremely volatile. This script has turned away a lot of risk-averse actors."
"That's no reason for casting issues. There must be plenty of actors with good judgement."
"You read the synopsis, right?" she asked, chewing on a piece of bacon. "There are no good men in that series. Established actors don't want to play roles that are hurtful to their image. And there is a role in the script that not only is bad for an actor's image but also has very few lines."
"Asmodeus Binsfeld," Averie replied, a grin on his face.
'How fortuitous,' he thought.