In a dark room, the curtains were closed off, not allowing even a streak of the morning light to intrude.
The room was musty and covered in a thin layer of dust, showing that it has not been used for a long time.
It was a simple room with only the basics of necessaries. With a single-person bed, a bedside table, a working desk with a old laptop that looked worn out, a tall stool chair, and a closet. There was a small kitchen and a tiny bathroom connected to this small room. All in all, it was a cheap room.
Suddenly, a faint groan could be heard in the otherwise eerily quiet apartment. It was a surprise as it seemed as the room had no signs of life in it. So the sudden appearance of a person lying on the ground of the dusty floor could have shocked anyone that had entered into this desolate place.
The person---the man---that was unconscious on the floor had his eyes tightly clutched, his expression looked like he was in pain. His body trembled slightly, not in fear, only in a physical reaction caused by what his mind was experiencing.
This had been the case for 12 days. Freshly out of college, this 23 years old young man is the owner, well, renter, of this small and cheap apartment room. Passed out for a long time, it seems like he will be waking up soon.
Another pained groan escaped through his lips, and this time, unlike the previous times where his body couldn't move except to tremble, his hands slowly clenched into a fist. His tightly clenched fist caused a stinging pain to travel through his entire body, beads of blood dripped onto the dust of the floor, melting the dusts into a bloody red.
Abruptly, the eyes that were tightly pressed together opened. The pain, the anger, the despair, and the slight determination that shone through those negative emotions were reflected upon his deep ebony eyes.
Forcefully pushing himself off the ground into a sitting position, Castor's breathing was fast and heavy. Almost out of breath even though he did not do any intense exercise.
Closing his eyes once more, he dryly swallowed dry spit and found his throat to be parched. Heaving a deep sigh, he shakily stood up while using the stool that was next to him as support. Finally on his two feet, steadily, he walked into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water. Downing it in one shot, he filled the cup again with water. Doing that over and over again, it was only 2 minutes later that he finally stopped.
Touching his throat that was still dry after drinking water nonstop for the last few minutes, Castor looked to be distracted. Unable to care much for the fact that he was dehydrated from the more than a week of being in a coma, Castor meticulously went through in his head again what he had seen and experienced during his long dream.
No. It wasn't a dream. Castor was sure of it, they were the memories of his past life.
Castor shook his head.
'No. They were not just the memories of his past life. They were the memories of all of his previous lives.'
Castor Ennad. That was the him from his first life.
And every life after that he was given a new name, yet despite that, the him in this life seems to have the same name as his very first life. He didn't know what to think of it.
He was 28 when he died, still full of talent not on full display, and just a step away from reaching the epitome of his career, his goal, his dream.
He was an actor. He still is an actor. Even after all he has experienced just to get closer to his dream, but never quite reaching and sometimes not at all, he never gave up.
'Even now, even in this life, I'm still aiming to be the greatest actor of all.' Castor looked down at his current body. His this life's self.
He wanted to laugh at himself. He wanted to mock himself. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't find it in him to laugh at himself. To laugh at the him that so foolishly persisted in every life---chasing after what was impossible.
Shaking his head, he placed his right hand above the place where his heart is.
Feeling its strong beating rhythm. His heart was running. The heat created made his chest feel hot.
He was alive. Yet again.
Once again another new start.
Beep! La la la du la la du du~
Suddenly the sound of music was heard in the room. Walking out of the kitchen he followed the sound of the song, arriving at his working desk with a laptop.
Picking up a phone, Castor looked to see the caller's name.
"Shane...is my best friend in this life," Castor lowly mumbled to himself as he went through his memories of this life.
His name is Castor Ennad, 23 years old and a graduate freshly out of college. He had studied music and acting as his major. The him in this life had an extreme interest in acting just like all the him from his previous lives. Except that there was a little discrepancy in this life as somewhere during his college days, he had gotten interested in music after hearing a particular song that stirred his heart and resonated with his soul. Of course that wasn't the only reason why Castor had also majored in music---or specifically, singing--, there was also the additional fact that he felt like he could express himself and release a mysterious kind of frustration he feels sometimes through singing.
He had no idea why his goal in this life had suddenly become two things, but Castor could accept it. He had no reason not to, and singing does seem like fun and somehow resonates with his soul just like acting does.
Tossing those thoughts aside, Castor first opted to pick up the call that has been ringing for half a day already.
Before Castor could get a word out, Shane's loud voice had bursted out from the phone like a great soundwave, "Castor! Why were you uncontactable for so long...13 days! I've been trying to reach you for so long! I even went to your apartment, but it seemed like you weren't home whenever I try! So Castor, where the heck were you for the past week and a half!"
Listening patiently to his friend's ramblings and angry tone laced with heavy concern, Castor felt warm inside. Thinking about Shane and comparing him to his so called "friends" in his last life, Castor let a bitter smile slip from his lips.
"What good friends they were…, they were even my childhood friends yet they can't even compare to a college friend that I've known for only 4 years as Castor Ennad…" Castor mumbled almost incoherently, causing Shane that was still rambling on on the other end of the call to put a pause to his long concerned speech.
"What did you say?" Shane asked in a confused voice, he didn't hear what Castor had said clearly, only mere murmurings.
Unable to hear Shane's words, Castor was stuck in a daze of remembering his last life's memories that were so fresh on his mind. Remembering those traitors' faces, Castor was amazed to find that instead of a burning hatred he'd expected to find, there was only pity and a sense of calm. Pity not out of regret of their betrayal, but pity for his too naive self.
He had thought them to be his closest friends---they had grown up together after all---, he thought they could trust each other's backs to one another, not knowing, not suspecting at all of their betrayal.
Just like many of his past lives, in his last life, he was so close to the peak. So close to reaching the summit that he had longed for since the very start of it all. Yet that had all been burned to ashes, and not even the ashes remained.
A scandal. A scandal that exposes all the horrid and disgusting things Castor supposedly had done. All of which were lies fabricated by his childhood friends that were in the same industry as him, who also wanted to reach the peak like him. But never thought them to be so vicious, so merciless and cruel that they would even blacken their life-long friend's name, his reputation, for a sake at popularity and to throw him down from his throne.
What drugs? What rapes? What is it about him being a pervert? What about him murdering innocents?
If he had a say---if the fans and people would have just listened to him---he could have proven it all wrong, but for some reason no one believed him, as if in their minds they have all believed that he was such a damnable person.
The police even had evidence. False evidence that he didn't know where it came from.
Castor was taken to jail, cursed at and darned to die by so many people for the unspeakable non-existent sins he had committed. They couldn't believe that such a kind, charitable, and respectable young man was a font he had put up to deceive everyone; his fans and all netizens.
And Castor couldn't believe that they had believed that he had done those things. He couldn't believe how fickle a human's heart is; that they would turn from him the moment they heard something unsightly about him. Not even willing to fight for him.
All his hard work and sweat and achievements had gone up in smoke.
He was only just a step away. Just like in most of his previous lives.
But it seems a step away is a step too far.