The film set was a chaotic mess. Lighting technicians adjusted their equipment, makeup artists made the final touches, and the director—a perpetually dissatisfied man with a receding hairline hidden under a baseball cap—shouted into a megaphone, trying to overpower the noise. Haruki Sendo, sitting in a corner of the set, lazily scrolled through his phone. He was bored.
"Haruki-san, are you ready for the scene?" an assistant called out.
"Yes, of course," he replied automatically, masking his exhaustion with a forced smile.
In truth, he had long stopped enjoying acting. His best roles were behind him, and his current projects—second-rate melodramas and low-budget films—only deepened his sense of futility.
"When was the last time I genuinely felt happy on set?" the thought flashed through his mind.
After the shoot, late that evening, Haruki decided to wander the old streets of Tokyo. Memories washed over him like waves: his first premiere, the first applause… and his first failure. He stopped in front of a closed café, its dim windows reflecting his face.
"How did it come to this?" he muttered softly.
"You lost yourself," a voice said behind him.
Haruki turned and saw an old man. The stranger wore a tattered coat and held a lantern that seemed unnaturally bright for such a small device.
"What?" Haruki asked, frowning.
"You were a star, but you believed too early that you'd reached the peak," the old man continued. "Your fate could've been different, but your choices led you here."
Irritation flared in Haruki. Who was this man to judge him?
"And what are you suggesting? Turn back time?" Haruki asked sarcastically.
The old man smirked.
"Perhaps that's the only thing that can save you."
Before Haruki could reply, his vision blurred. The world spun, and he lost consciousness.