It was 2 a.m., and Noah was still sitting in the living room.
The lights were off. Only the streetlamp outside shone through the window blinds, casting a dim glow across his face like a shadow.
The living room was small—just a single-month rental. The walls were so thin he could hear the couple next door arguing. Cardboard boxes and luggage were still stacked in the corner. He hadn't had the time or energy to unpack.
His phone buzzed. He reached for it out of habit.
It was a message from his agent—a link.
[Trending Predictions]
"Asher may be paired with a new co-star in
"New idol Noah slammed for poor acting, accused of using connections"
Below were hot-topic charts, the red line soaring past green in real time.
Noah stared at the screen, unable to say a word.
His eyes were dry and aching, but his chest hurt even more.
He wasn't stupid. He'd known since day one that this industry ran on appearances and connections. Hard work alone meant nothing if no one noticed.
But he hadn't expected it to be this brutal. That even a starting role in a new drama—just a few scenes—could be taken away so easily.
All because he didn't sign.
All because he turned Asher down.
He set the phone aside, tilted his head back, and stared at the ceiling, biting down on his lip.
For a second, he really wanted to throw the phone, walk out, and leave behind this whole industry where bodies were currency.
But then he remembered…
The first time he secretly watched Asher accept an award when he was just seventeen.
The endless nights in the trainee dorms, dancing until his legs went numb.
And what his parents had told him:
"If you've chosen this road, don't come crying back."
His eyes burned. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.
**
At 3 a.m., the lights finally came on.
Noah sat at his desk. The contract was now a PDF quietly sitting in his inbox.
Sent by Asher—with a note:
[Think it over tonight.]
Noah said nothing as he opened the document. Page by page, he skimmed over the cold, emotionless terms:
[Available anytime]
[No emotional relationship]
[Strict confidentiality]
Every word felt like a nail hammered straight into his chest.
And just as he was wavering, his phone buzzed again.
It was a voice message—from his agent.
He tapped to play.
> "What the hell is going on with you? The production schedule for Kiss Me 2 was already set, and now they're talking about replacing you. Don't you get it? We don't have any other options."
> "You're a rookie. No fans, no backing. The company can't protect you for long…"
> "If you let this go—there won't be a second chance."
Noah closed his eyes. The voice message played like a knife slicing through his eardrums.
He started crying.
Not loud sobbing—but the kind of crying that made it hard to breathe.
His lips trembled as the tears fell one by one, silent but unstoppable. He pressed his face into his palms, shoulders shaking.
When it finally stopped, his hands were soaked with tears.
He sat there for a long time, in silence.
Then he picked up a pen.
On the printed copy of the contract, he wrote his name.
Two characters. Clean. Sharp.
He looked at the signature like he was staring at a collapse.
Then he scanned the signed page and sent it out from his phone.
Recipient: Asher's email.
**
Less than a minute later, a text came in.
[I knew you'd sign.]
It was from Asher.
No punctuation. No emoji. Nothing extra.
Noah stared at the message, but he didn't feel any relief.
It felt like he was sinking deeper—into something with no bottom.
**
The next morning, his agent called out of the blue.
"Did you… sort things out with Asher?"
Noah froze. "How do you know?"
"The director just sent over the new workshop schedule," his agent said, tone suddenly more cheerful. "Even the trending rumors got pulled down. Looks like things are turning around. If this goes well, you might even land some new projects."
Noah didn't answer—just gave a quiet "mm."
After hanging up, he placed his phone aside and stood by the window.
The sun was bright. The sky was blue. Outside, life went on—a world that had nothing to do with him.
He suddenly remembered what Asher had said:
"You want to be famous. This is the fastest way."
Now, he was on that path.
But whether there was an end to it—he didn't know.
All he knew was:
The moment he signed that contract…
There was no way back.