Michael was a strange man. He liked things his way but was relatively easygoing. He despised laziness and expected raw talent associated with everything he touched.
His eyes sparkled as he watched the interview.
Ethan paused, his expression tightening into something almost wistful. "My dream? To have a little house by the lake. Quiet. No deadlines, no noise. Just peace…. I suppose, isn't that what everyone wants?"
Weird. Ethan Cole was weird to Michael. Michael has seen talent go down the drain several times, after all talent isn't the only thing that made stars in his line of work, but still.
The way the kid's eyes cut towards James Payne– The interviewer, the listless look in his eyes was quite hard to achieve, nearly impossible to achieve on a wimp. It was the look of extreme depression, pessimism, and exhaustion, it was a look that was impossible to replicate unless familiar with.
Was this kid depressed? Michael had the thought, but the thought left his mind. The kid seemed fine, even a bit too bubbly, hell Michael caught both the kid and his manager stealing candy from the snack box yesterday.
Yet…. Michael couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind. He was a bloodsucker in nature, he saw raw talent, he just had to use it as much as possible. It was the kid's audition that caused a discussion between him and the writers in adding a few more scenes, just because of the way the kid embodies the characters.
Adding more scenes would be irrelevant and going over their budget. So then…. Just how could he utilize this kid?
Michael glanced over at James Payne who was having a conversation with Derek. Perhaps having more scenes wouldn't be relevant but….
There was a way he could use Ethan Cole to help his movie win the Critic's Choice Movie Awards.
James Payne's laughter echoed through the room, the kind of polished, almost rehearsed laugh that came with years of being in the industry. Derek leaned back in his chair, a confident smirk plastered across his face as if he owned every second of the spotlight.
Michael's gaze flickered between them before settling back on Ethan. The kid was leaning against the wall now, his fingers idly tapping against the side of his leg. He wasn't smiling—he didn't even look like he was listening. Instead, there was this air about him, something muted yet strangely magnetic, like he wasn't trying to stand out but couldn't help doing so.
Raw talent, Michael thought again, the words repeating like a mantra in his head. But talent alone didn't win awards. Ethan didn't have the kind of industry presence that Derek had, or the charisma Sarah exuded without even trying. Yet… there was something there. A spark. A potential that, if tapped into correctly, could elevate A Love Remembered to something beyond just another romance film.
Michael leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as his mind began to turn. The Critics' Choice Movie Awards, the holy grail for a romance film, not just because of its prestige but because of what it represented. Winning that award wasn't just about being good—it was about being unforgettable.
But how do you make someone like Ethan unforgettable?
Michael's lips twitched into a slow smile. It wasn't about giving Ethan more screen time—no, that would tip the balance of the film. The story wasn't about him, after all. But what if…
What if Ethan became the heart of the marketing campaign?
The thought settled in Michael's mind like a puzzle piece snapping into place. The audience didn't need to know Ethan as Ethan. They needed to know him as his character. The quiet, unassuming office worker who falls hopelessly in love, the one who breaks your heart just by looking at you with those tired, empty eyes.
This wasn't about Ethan Cole, the kid with a mismatched outfit and a penchant for stealing candy. This was about Ethan Cole, the actor who could sell the hell out of despair.
Michael turned to his assistant, lowering his voice. "Get the PR team. I have an idea."
Meanwhile, Ethan stood off to the side, his shoulders hunched as he tried to stay out of the way. The leads had finished their portion of the interview, and now it was his turn. The crew waved him over, gesturing for him to take a seat opposite James Payne.
[Relax,] the system chimed in his head. [It's just a few questions. Smile, nod, and pretend you're not thinking about running out the door.]
"Helpful as always," Ethan muttered under his breath before taking his seat.
[I really try]
Ethan reached out to the bowl of sweets on the table and unwrapped a piece of candy.
Click.
The sound of the camera caught his attention. He snapped his head over to the sound, seeing a guy with his phone pointed out to him.
He blinked.
"Just keep doing whatever you're doing," the person said before taking a few more shots of the Ethan who was still staring like a deer caught in headlights.
"I– I'm not sure if I should find that worrying," Ethan said while shoving the candy in his mouth.
Meanwhile….
"Why is he here?" Derek breathed out to his assistant.
The frail pale girl shook despite Derek's calm voice. "Sir, t-the director wanted–"
Before she could continue the sentence a phone was flung at her and landed on her heard.
"Fucking useless bitch," Derek sneered. "I don't want to hear any excuses alright? Jeez, are you crying already? What kind of stupid freak did those old farts give me as an assistant?"
"M-my apologies sir," she choked out, her voice shaky and her eyes glassy.
"Do some digging on that ugly thing, Ethan whatever, I don't want to keep seeing his face during shooting, make it happen," Derek spitefully replied.
Derek leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight as his assistant scurried to gather the scattered contents of her clipboard. Her trembling hands barely managed to grip the papers before Derek's sharp voice cut through the noise of the room again as they left the room.
"You're slower than a goddamn tortoise," he snapped, his voice low but laced with venom. "Do I need to do everything myself? What do I pay you for?"
The assistant's head dipped lower, her face pale as she muttered, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll be more careful."
Derek sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Sorry doesn't fix incompetence. I want results. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," she murmured, her voice almost inaudible.
Derek rolled his eyes, his gaze wandering until it landed on Ethan, who was seated on the other side of the room, now sipping from a bottle of water with a distracted expression.
"Ugh, look at him," Derek muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward his assistant, who visibly stiffened. "That amateur thinks he belongs here. Can you believe it? He's not even a real actor. He's a placeholder, a goddamn filler. And they want me to share a goddamn poster with that?"
The assistant hesitated, unsure if she was meant to respond. Derek didn't notice—or care.
"Find out who he knows," Derek demanded coldly, his tone dropping into a menacing hiss. "There's no way he landed this role on his own. Someone must've pulled strings. When you find out, you let me know."
"Yes, sir," the assistant whispered, clutching her tablet to her chest as though it could shield her from Derek's contempt.
Derek smirked again, his eyes narrowing at Ethan. "I don't care how they hype him up for the promo. He's not staying long. I'll make sure of that."
Across the room, Ethan looked up, feeling the weight of Derek's glare. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Ethan's stomach tightened. Derek's expression didn't shift—it stayed sharp, cold, and utterly dismissive.
Ethan tore his gaze away, forcing himself to focus on the water bottle in his hand. But even as he tried to brush off the encounter, the chill of Derek's stare lingered.
The system chimed in his head.
[Fun fact: If looks could kill, you'd be dead. Ten times over.]
"Thanks for the morale boost," Ethan muttered under his breath, earning a passing glance from a nearby crew member.
[No problem. By the way, you should stop shrinking. Your awkwardness is already meme-worthy. Own it.]
Ethan bit back a groan, silently cursing both Derek and the system. It was going to be a long day.