Chapter 1 - The Last Audition
Chapter 1 — The Last Audition
The ceiling was leaking again.
Elias Mercer opened his eyes to the soft, irregular sound of water hitting the plastic bowl beside his bed.
Plink.
A pause.
Plink.
Another pause.
He stared at the stained patch of ceiling above him.
“Seriously?”
The ceiling ignored him.
It was 6:47 in the morning. He had slept badly. Not because of nightmares, but because he had spent most of the night staring at that same ceiling, trying not to think about what would happen if today’s audition went nowhere.
Elias sat up. The mattress groaned beneath him. At six-foot-one, he had to duck slightly under the low-hanging light fixture as he stood.
His apartment wasn’t terrible. That was what he told himself. It was just small. Very small. One bedroom. A kitchenette with cabinets that had probably been white once. A secondhand couch. A table that doubled as a desk, dining table, and script table. The walls had yellowed with age. There was a crack near the window. The carpet held a permanent stain he had stopped trying to remove. And above his bed, the ceiling continued its slow betrayal.
He had reported the leak twice. The landlord had promised to look into it.
Elias was beginning to understand what that phrase actually meant.
He picked up his phone.
One notification.
Bank balance: $34.18
He stared at the number.
Thirty-four dollars and eighteen cents.
Rent was due in four days.
He locked the phone. Unlocked it. Checked again. Same number.
“Okay,” he muttered. “That’s fine.”
It wasn’t.
He dressed carefully. Dark trousers. The one clean white button-up shirt he owned, washed the night before and hung near the window because the building’s dryer had been broken for two weeks. Simple shoes. An older jacket that still looked presentable if you didn’t look too closely.
He stood in front of the dark television screen and studied his reflection.
Thick chestnut-brown hair, currently pointing in several directions. Green-hazel eyes that looked tired. Strong jaw. High cheekbones. A faint scatter of freckles across his nose. Lean shoulders, narrow waist. The kind of face people had always said had the look.
The problem was that having the look hadn’t gotten him very far.
He ran wet hands through his hair, pushed the waves away from his forehead, and decided it was good enough.
His phone buzzed.
Mom.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“You’re awake.”
“Unfortunately.”
Claire laughed softly. He could picture her perfectly, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee, already dressed for work, hair pulled back because she never spent long getting ready in the morning.
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It was technically an answer.”
“Elias.”
He smiled. “Yes. I slept. A little.”
“Did you eat?”
He glanced toward the kitchen. Half a loaf of bread. Two eggs. Some leftover rice.
“I was about to.”
“You haven’t.”
“Eggs and rice.”
“Breakfast?”
“It’s food.”
“Elias.”
“I’m eating.”
There was a brief silence. Then her voice softened.
“Are you nervous?”
Elias looked at himself on the dark screen again. “Yes.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’ve audited before.”
“I know.”
“I’m still nervous.”
“That’s also okay.”
Another pause.
“You know you don’t have to prove your worth today, right?”
Elias swallowed. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
“I know you are.” Her voice carried the familiar warmth that had somehow survived every rejection email and every tiny role that led nowhere. “You’ve been chasing this for a long time.”
“Four years.”
“I know.”
“I should have something by now.”
“You have something.”
“What?”
“You’re still trying.”
He smiled faintly. “That sounds suspiciously like something you prepared beforehand.”
“I have a lot of wisdom.”
“You once put salt in the coffee.”
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
“Go eat your breakfast.”
He laughed. The tension in his chest loosened a little.
Then Claire said, quieter, “Sophie mentioned her school books again.”
Elias straightened. “How much?”
“Don’t.”
“Mom.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“How much?”
She hesitated. Finally she told him. It wasn’t enormous. But it was more than the thirty-four dollars sitting in his account.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“Go to your audition. Your father and I will handle it.”
Her tone wasn’t angry. It was gentle. Which somehow made it harder.
“Okay,” he said.
“And if it doesn’t work out—”
“It will.”
She paused, then laughed softly. “There he is. My stubborn son.”
“I learned from Dad.”
“You absolutely did not.”
Elias smiled.
“Listen to me,” Claire said. “Whatever happens today, don’t let one casting decision decide what you think you’re worth.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Good. Call me afterward. And eat.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
They hung up.
A second later his phone buzzed again.
Sophie: DID MOM CALL YOU YET?
Elias: Yes.
Sophie: DID SHE DO THE EAT THING
Elias: Obviously.
Sophie: 😂
Good luck today.
Seriously.
Get the role.
Elias: That’s the plan.
Sophie: GOOD.
Also don’t become famous and forget your favorite sister.
Elias: You’re my only sister.
Sophie: Exactly.
He laughed, put the phone away, and looked around the apartment one last time. The leaking ceiling. The cheap furniture. The unpaid bill under the magnet on the fridge.
Four years of auditions.
Two commercials.
One music video.
Three background roles.
Seven seconds of television where his entire contribution had been the word “Morning.”
Today had to be different.
Not because the universe owed him anything.
Because he couldn’t keep doing this forever.
He grabbed his bag and left.
Meridian City was already awake. Traffic crawled. People moved down sidewalks with coffee and phones. Billboards towered above the streets. Actors. Musicians. Models. Streaming dramas. Everywhere Elias looked, someone was selling the dream he had spent four years trying to enter.
He took the train because a rideshare would have cost money he couldn’t justify. When Aurora Studios came into view, glass and steel, production trucks, the giant logo, his stomach tightened.
He checked in, took the elevator, and found Waiting Room B already crowded. He recognized faces. One actor from a streaming series. Another from a movie that had made nearly two hundred million. They were here for the same role.
Elias sat near the wall, pulled out his sides, and tried to focus.
Julian Cross. Twenty-three. Young journalist. Smart but inexperienced. Idealistic. About to discover that the people he trusted had been lying to him for years.
It was the kind of role Elias had dreamed about. Not because it was glamorous, but because it had something real to play.
His heartbeat was loud in his ears.
Then a clean electronic tone sounded inside his head.
Ding.
Elias froze.
Nobody else reacted.
Another tone.
Ding.
Then words appeared in his field of vision. Translucent. Sharp. Impossible.
[System Initializing…]
His breath caught.
[Host identified.]
[Name: Elias Mercer]
[Age: 24]
[System Level: 1]
[Synchronization: Complete]
The interface remained. No one else in the room seemed able to see it.
[Core Attributes]
Acting — 41
Voice — 36
Appearance — 67
Charisma — 42
Physical Fitness — 51
Mental Resilience — 58
Popularity — 312
Fame Points — 0
Elias stared.
[Hidden Talent Detected]
Emotional Immersion
Development: 12%
Description: An unusually strong natural ability to emotionally synchronize with fictional characters.
[Special Ability Detected]
Absolute Retention
Description: Information that has been genuinely learned and understood will be permanently retained.
His mouth went dry.
Then the final panel appeared.
[Main Mission Activated]
Secure Your First Meaningful Acting Role
Objective: Obtain a contracted acting role in a professionally produced project.
Minimum Requirement: Role must contain at least 10 scenes.
Reward: Unknown
Failure: None
Elias read the last line twice.
Failure: None.
No punishment. No threat. Just an opportunity.
Of all the days. Of all the possible moments.
A quiet laugh almost escaped him.
He didn’t know what the System was. He didn’t know where it had come from. He didn’t know whether it was real. But he knew one thing. He needed something to believe in. Even if it was impossible. Even if he woke up tomorrow and discovered he had imagined the entire thing.
For today, he would play along.
He closed the sides, took a slow breath, and steadied his hands.
The casting door opened.
“Elias Mercer?”
He stood.
For the first time in four years, the answer to his question wasn’t somewhere behind him.
It was standing directly in front of him.
He walked toward the door and stepped inside.
