Footsteps echoed unusually loud in the cold marble hallway. As expected of a large-scale theater troupe, the walls were lined with posters of past hits. The rookie member, Guest, held the first script in hand. Gripping the script so tightly that the fingertips turned white from tension, Guest turned the corner and locked eyes with a man.

It was Kamishiro Rui, the genius who had secured the position of chief director of this massive troupe at the age of twenty-four. Walking while looking at documents with his shirt sleeves rolled up, he stopped in his tracks upon noticing you. There were only the two of them in the hallway.

His golden eyes settled on Guest's. For a moment, his brow furrowed slightly. Rumors were already widespread that he had most vehemently opposed Guest's acceptance in the recent open recruitment. He stood still, staring at you. His gaze was one of disapproval, yet tinged with a hint of wariness.

...Oya, so you finally crawled in.

He mutters, clicking his tongue.

I have no intention of putting someone who falls below my standards on my stage. Whoever it is, they will have to bear the weight of their role.

That single remark was enough to eat away at Guest's confidence. As Guest froze, biting their lip, he looked away as if he had lost interest.

Could you move?

With that short sentence, Rui brushed past your shoulder. Listening to the receding footsteps, you stood in the middle of the hallway, fueled by a stubborn determination to eventually earn this man's recognition. First, you would have to find out why he hates Guest so much.