Scene: Set Between Freen and Kirk
Freen was about to serve another guest when someone grabbed her."Kirk, what is it?" she asked, startled.
"Hey, how dare you call me that? I am still a nobleman," Kirk said, trying to look stern.
Freen rolled her eyes at his theatrics."What do you want? I'm busy," she hissed.
Kirk cleared his throat. "I understand your time is valuable, but I must ask for your assistance in a matter concerning the safety of our kingdom."
Freen sighed. "Fine. Speak quickly and be done with it."
"Really, Kirk, what do you want?" Freen asked, cutting through his drama.
"We're short of dancers for the Khon performance at the event."
"And? What does that have to do with me?" she asked, confused.
Kirk smirked, and something about his expression made Freen uneasy."I was thinking maybe you could join us," he said, eyes hopeful."You've always been a great dancer, and it would mean a lot if you joined this cultural celebration."
"What do you mean? I'm not a professional. I just serve drinks and food. If anything, it might insult real dancers who deserve the stage. Don't be biased—I'm just a servant," Freen reminded him.
"Freen, I've seen you dance in the back while the others rehearse," Kirk said."You're better than most of them. I trust you."
Freen looked down, embarrassed. She hadn't realized anyone had noticed her playing around.
"So?" Kirk urged.
"Heh, Kirk, you misunderstood. I was just playing around. I'm not interested in dancing," she said honestly.
Kirk nodded. "That's okay. But you have natural talent. You should give it a shot—you might enjoy it."
"You're crazy," Freen muttered, brushing off the idea.
"Freen, everyone deserves a chance, regardless of status. Don't judge yourself so harshly. You're talented and intelligent," Kirk said, his tone serious.
"Yeah… if only everyone thought like you do." Freen's voice was tinged with realism.
"You will dance. I don't accept 'no' for an answer," Kirk said as he grabbed her tray and set it on a random table, ignoring a nobleman's angry protest.
Before Freen could react, Kirk pulled her away.
"Wait! If Mother sees me, she'll kill me!" she protested.
"Don't worry. We'll sneak in. No one will notice—just wear a mask," Kirk said as they entered the dancers' quarters.
Director's Voice:"And cut!"
The crew rushed in to reset the stage. Freen and Kirk stepped aside, sipping water and reviewing their lines.
Becky's POV
I watched Freen from the side of the set as Mee adjusted my costume for my upcoming scene. Despite the nervous flutter in my stomach, I took a deep breath and reminded myself to stay focused and give it my all.
Ever since the interview, Freen had been keeping her distance, even though she still talked and interacted with me — all for the sake of work.
"I don't know if I was just longing for more of her attention since we just met again," I thought, "but I understand that our work comes first, and I need to respect her space. Perhaps we can catch up after the shoot is over."
"Are you and Freen still not okay? I really thought you two were fine now, especially after everything she did to clear your name. Honestly, that was really brave of her," Mee said quietly as he finished adjusting my dress.
"I appreciate what Freen did for me, and I'm grateful to her," I answered, "but I think she needs some time to process everything between us, and I respect that. Hopefully, we can talk after the shoot is over."
"Okay," Mee responded, though I could tell there was more he wanted to say but chose to keep it to himself.
I wiped sweat from my back and said, "This thing is a little hot." The red Victorian dress I was wearing clung to me; I could feel sweat dripping down and knew I needed to cool off before I passed out. Thankfully, there was air conditioning in the room — a relief from the brutal heat outside.
I glanced toward Freen again as the staff helped her into her dance costume. She looked stunning — the intricate details and vibrant colors dazzled in the light. The staff member twirled happily, clearly enjoying the outfit.
"Ma'am, the set is ready for you to get ready now for shooting," a crew member called.
I turned away from Freen and headed toward the set, excitement bubbling inside me. The upcoming dance scene would be spectacular — colorful costumes, lively music, and the traditional khon masked dance Freen had worked so hard to master.
I'd never seen her dance before, but her dedication to perfecting this role was clear.
Suddenly, the Director's voice rang out:
"Okay, scene 83! Props ready! Actors, positions! Check lighting and cameras!"
Everyone rushed into place, including me. I sat down on a chair near the veteran actors playing the parents of the protagonist. My heart pounded — this was my first time on a big-budget film set. I was determined to learn and soak it all in.
"And… ACTION!" the director shouted.
I watched, mesmerized, as the scene unfolded. The actors' performances were captivating — men in traditional khon masks performing a dance drama from the Ayutthaya era of Thailand, with classical piphat music fused with contemporary sounds.
I wasn't a good actress, but I managed to act in my own natural way. It felt strange, almost like déjà vu — like I'd lived parts of this character's life before. Maybe that's why I was able to embody the role despite no formal training.
We were all seated as visitors to a grand mansion, watching the dancers and drama on stage. Everything was so vivid, so alive.
Then, a masked swordsman entered.
Suddenly, everything changed — the studio lights seemed to dim, and I felt like I had stepped into another time, another reality.
"What is happening to me?" I whispered, but no one noticed. It was like I'd slipped into a parallel world.
I looked toward Freen as she danced in front of us, everyone clapping along.
I know it was Freen, but this person I am in with doesn't.As I see and feel her emotions, her mind, it's like I'm watching her through a veil —there's a shadow over her eyes, a hesitation in her breath that she's not even aware of.
She doesn't know it yet, but I do.
This is not just a scene.This is the moment when everything begins to unravel, inside her, inside me.
And I'm trapped inside her, feeling everything she won't admit.
PAST REBECCA'S POINT OF VIEW THAT THE PRESENT BECKY CAN SEE
As the masked performer danced and acted the drama, sword in hand, I was mesmerized by his graceful stunts—it was as if he was born to perform. The other actors were skilled too, delivering their parts with precision, but my eyes stayed locked on this swordsman's fluid movements.
When our eyes briefly met, time seemed to stop. The world around me faded, and it was just him—dancing with that mask and sword. Those eyes—where had I seen such expressive eyes before? His movements were effortless and natural, like the sword was an extension of his body. I couldn't help but feel a deep admiration and awe for his skill.
And yet, it wasn't just his talent that held me captive. Every time he faced the audience, it felt like he was performing for me alone, as if the entire theater—with its royals gathered to entertain the Prime Minister's family—had vanished. The grand mansion faded away, and suddenly, it was just the two of us in that space.
Reality returned when the audience rose in applause, the performance over. I glanced to my side as my fiancé's hand—son of the Prime Minister—reached out to help me stand. When I looked back to the stage, I caught the swordsman's eyes switch cold and distant as he bowed with his fellow performers.
A shiver of unease ran through me at his sudden change in demeanor, but I pushed it aside and joined the applause, grateful for my fiancé's steady presence. Yet, as we left the theater, the nagging feeling lingered—something about that performance wasn't quite right.
A chill ran down my spine.
"CUT!!" the director's voice snapped me back.
Reality flooded in — it was all acting, a brilliant performance.
"Wow!! Good!! Perfect!!" the director exclaimed, thrilled.
I smiled but felt unsettled — I had really felt it all, yet no one else noticed.
I glanced toward Freen, who caught my eye for a moment before quickly looking away and disappearing into the dressing room.
Before I could process any further, the gang approached.
"Oh my god, Becky, did you really stop acting? Why are you acting more naturally than before?" Tee asked with a grin.
"I'm not saying you're a lousy actress, but damn, you were so good in that scene! And that was only one take with veteran actors, and you didn't flinch once," Jim added, eyes wide with amazement.
"Freen has also proven her talent. You two are really good together," Jim said, amazement clear on her face. "That was a tough acting job—especially without any dialogue. Just through acting and eye contact... wow. Our minds were blown watching you from the back of the set."
Before I could respond, Kade jumped in, "By the way, where is Freen? Have you talked to her yet?"
I just shrugged. The question hung heavy in the air, and they all let out a collective sigh.
Freen hadn't been mingling with the group lately, and that only deepened my worry. What was really going on with her?
Was she still grieving over Mr. On's death? She hadn't even attended the funeral. I sighed again, the weight of it pressing down on me.