AN: Thank you for being patient and still reading! The hiatus is over and updates will be on a regular schedule now. Unscripted will be updating on odd number days and any missed days will be notified in advanced. Happy reading~ ?

A gust of wind blew by just as Mi Sha stepped out of their barouche, catching a few loose strands of ebony and setting them adrift. Around him, the luxury and the gleaming artifice of this world—its perfect gardens, sculpted statues, the very stones of the drive—seemed almost too beautiful, too polished. Yet, he knew that beneath this veneer lay the ruthless ambition, the cold calculations, and the unpredictable power struggles that drove the showbiz machine.

“Welcome, contestants,” a voice suddenly greeted, crisp and dignified.

Mi Sha turned and raised his head, along with the other startled contestants, only to find a statuesque woman in black butler attire standing at the top of the stone steps leading to the grand double doors of the manor. She stood poised and immaculate, from the magenta hair swept back in a tight knot to the crisp folds of her suit and the spotless gloved hands folded in front of her waistcoat.

But none of that was as unsettling as the smooth porcelain mask covering her face that did nothing to prevent the assembled contestants from imagining the satisfied smile of the cat that got the canary spreading over faceless features.

“As guests of the Lady Wonderton here at the Wonderton Manor, you will be expected to undergo several trials to prove your worthiness. The Lady and her honored friends will see to it that not a single pearl will remain covered in dust. As for pebbles…” The butleress paused meaningfully, “their fate is to be abandoned on the side of the road, is that not right?”

A stilted silence fell among the crowd of 200 contestants, which in itself was not a small feat for young rambunctious men in their late teens to early twenties. 

The faceless butleress paid no mind to the effect her words had on the young dreamers in front of her, “That being said, the auditions for your initial ratings will begin shortly, to be called by the number on the invitation sent to your holocoms. So dear guests, I wish you all an enjoyable performance—and of course an enjoyable stay at Wonderton Manor!”

And with that, the faceless butleress bent slightly at the waist and turned around to gesture at the grand double doors of the entrance, which swung open at that moment to reveal a splendid grand foyer brightly lit with chandeliers. Two rows of faceless attendants in identical black suits or black ruffled dresses stood waiting on either side of the entrance, and upon the swinging open of the doors, they all bowed or curtsied in unison, “Welcome, to Wonderton Manor!”

As former viewers of Starbound Express's previous two seasons, both of which were smashing successes, would know, this particular idol survival show was different from the rest on the market. And its most unique quality was not just the extravagant filming sites but also its immersive roleplaying filming method comparable to the making of an actual feature film—complete with an interesting backstory and host of colorful NPCs that act as the staff members and judges.

Naturally, as contestants on the show, everyone here had studied the previous two seasons thoroughly beforehand and had a general idea of what to expect. Even so, many found themselves awed and intimidated by the show’s creative team. 

It was no wonder the IP, Starbound Express, was so popular with the audience and coveted by industry figures alike.

If not for the rumored eccentric backer of the show, the very owner of the IP and this floating city, remaining firm on a stance of relative fairness and opportunity. The show would've turned into a playing ground for capital, just like many other show projects, especially idol survival shows which were often hit the hardest. Many young hopefuls were stumped at the first step—without a strong talent agency willing to put you forward to the show you wouldn't even know where to send your audition materials.

However, it must also be noted that, while Starbound Express contestants did not need to worry about malicious editing, unfair treatment in regards to screen time, etc., they were far from resting easily. Because the very unique filming process of the show required more from the contestants; those who did not possess true talent, charisma, or a strong heart did not dare to step foot onto the show lest they end up as stepping stones for competitors and embarrass themselves in front of millions of viewers.

Fair it may be, it was still a competitive environment. And competition has always been cruel. This was simply a game of survival not much different from the gladiator style boxing matches that had seen a resurgence on the Ground in recent years, only less bloody and more dazzling. 

Beside him, Phoenix nudged him, his holocom already turned on. “What number are you?”

As they all moved towards the grand entrance most, like Phoenix, anxiously checked their holocoms for the electronic “invitation” the butleress had mentioned. Mi Sha was also curious about his number as well and obligingly turned on his holocom.

Congratulations, No. 098! You have received the script for this show—you’ve been assigned the role of a guest at Wonderton Manor, and the main storyline has been loaded onto your personal communicator. Please strive to raise the Scream Index for this performance—the higher the index, the richer the rewards. 

P.S.: This stage has no restrictions, all’s fair in the road to stardom. Wishing you an enjoyable performance!

Ninety-eight, a number in the middle with neither the advantage of getting it over quickly and enjoying the performances of others nor the advantage of getting to “size up” the overall competition and compare it with your own act. But neither was there the disadvantage of getting a more conservative scoring in order to leave room for higher scores for performers who auditioned later nor was there the disadvantage of feeling the mounting pressure to measure up against previous impressive auditions.

The only thing you had to worry about was the intermission fatigue of the judges and the danger of being buried by other earlier or later performances that had or would make lasting impressions. But for Mi Sha this wasn't a concern, so he was relatively satisfied with his number.

“Not bad. Number 98. You?” Mi Sha looked over casually.

Phoenix chuckled wryly, “Near the end, number 189.”

“Not bad.” Mi Sha repeated, “Honestly, I don't think there is any bad number. It all depends on your performance and how strong it is in the end.”

Phoenix glanced at him sideways with a smile, “Optimistic.”

Mi Sha flashed him a thumbs up.

*

Murmurs and the shuffling of feet filled the opulently spacious vestibule as the young men crowded in, some clearly tense, others projecting a well-honed air of indifference. Mi Sha took in the gleaming expanse before him, its high-vaulted ceilings adorned with delicate, iridescent chandeliers, casting splintered light across the marble floor and the grand staircase leading to the second story. But soon his attention drifted to the elaborate set of double doors leading to a no less grand, glittering ballroom—the place where the initial auditions would take place.

As he entered, the room was already quickly filling with contestants who gathered in clusters, conversing in low voices, nerves evident in their posture and darting glances. Bands of virtual screens swirled overhead like ribbons which displayed a rotating array of images and short clips from each contestant’s self-introduction videos. Mi Sha noticed the chairs, cushioned in dark velvet, lining the far side of the room where contestants awaited their turns to be called. In contrast, several chaises and loveseats were placed in the center of the ballroom facing the floor to ceiling windows lining one side of the room where the auditions were to take place.

“Attention, please,” the distinct voice of the butleress cut through the buzz of conversation.

Every head turned as the butleress announced the impending arrival of the judges. Behind her, several more attendants filed in, each moving with a precision and grace that marked them as NPC staff.

“All contestants are to gather here until their turn to perform in front of the Lady and her honored friends. Once rated, you will receive your rank uniforms,” the butleress continued, gesturing to the row of mannequins along one wall. Each mannequin wore a white silk bomber jacket, its banded arms bearing different metallic stars in bronze, silver, or gold. Gray fedoras, white tunics, black trousers, and white leather wingtip shoes with matching star accents completed the ensemble—a look both pristine and understated, save for the metallic bands that marked their rank.

This set of attire was the official uniform for this season and also the outfit to be worn for the Main Theme Song MV. Of course, the silk bomber jacket would be replaced (or not) after the first official rating.

The ensuing footsteps were soft, yet there was an air of command in the steady rhythm that accompanied their approach. All eyes shifted once again as a towering figure in scarlet swept into the room, cutting through the murmurs with her presence alone. 

The Lady Wonderton had arrived. 

Her crimson gown glittered with a million finely wrought stones, the train trailing behind her like a pool of rubies. A lace fan, dripping with diamonds, unfurled in one gloved hand, while the other rested lightly at her side, projecting an effortless elegance. Her face, masked entirely in a similar pristine white porcelain with painted lips of bright red as the sole feature breaking up the monotony, only added to her aura of manic inscrutability.

She wasn’t alone. Beside her, seating themselves gracefully on luxurious chaise lounges and loveseats, were her “honored friends”—a peculiar and opulently dressed group, each of them wearing a mix of feathers, lace, jewels, and silks in shades that ranged from pastel pinks to deep blues. The closest one, a lady draped in a soft pink gown, raised her white ostrich feather fan to her lips, two encrusted sapphire eyes on her porcelain mask seeming to glint with mischief.

“Kekeke…” Lady Wonderton let out a high, shrill cackle, her fan hovering just over her chin, before her “eyes” swept across the room, lingering briefly on each contestant. The pink lady beside her joined in with a chortling, “Ohohoho…”

Their laughter rang through the room, somehow both amusing and vaguely sinister, as if a trap was being laid with every syllable. The contestants exchanged wary glances, some glancing nervously at the judges who sat like haughty monarchs, draped across their thrones.

Mi Sha observed it all with the faintest glimmer of amusement, feeling a twinge of anticipation as the stage was set. The personalities of these NPCs had been tweaked by him, the more caricature and “villainous” the better. In fact, all of the NPCs he programmed for the Starbound Express IP were over-the-top and fairytale-esque in order to keep with the theme.

The contestants were called up one by one by their invitation number to showcase their skills before the judges. Mi Sha watched as a nervous young man fumbled his vocal piece, Lady Wonderton snapping her fan shut with an impatient “snap”, her gaze sharp and unforgiving. A pipe-wielding gentleman in an emerald green waistcoat next to her leaned in with a sly smile and murmured something to her, and she responded with an approving nod.

Mi Sha's eyes flicked from the judges to the virtual screens now displaying each contestant’s performance in real-time and with excruciating detail on par with the big screen. The tension in the room built steadily as each contestant awaited their rating, glancing warily at the judges. 

Meanwhile, the auditions continued on the screens, and Mi Sha found himself growing more intrigued by the diverse array of contestants. Some exuded natural talent, dancing or singing with an ease that hinted at rigorous training; others seemed less practiced, their performances raw and unrefined, though no less captivating.

A familiar contestant with a shock of russet hair performed a solo piece from a well-known stage play with expressive tone and movements, and even his freckles seemed to come alive with his emotion. Mi Sha recognized him immediately as Rory Lee Carlisle, a recent graduate of drama school majoring in theater and drama—and the clumsy young man who had nearly toppled over a suitcase trolley back in Wonderton Station. His performance ended to murmurs of approval and faint applause from the watching crowd of contestants.

“Kekeke,” Lady Wonderton cackled, tapping her fan thoughtfully against her knee. “Interesting… but is he… versatile enough?” Her voice held a taunting edge, a trap in her words meant to prod at any insecurity Rory might have. And indeed, the young man paled, the smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose standing out sharply. Despite standing at a 187cm lanky height, he appeared to shrink into himself under the judging stares as he waited for her final judgment.

But Rory was already on the receiving end of “gentler” treatment in comparison to the contestants that followed. The judges barely hid their dismissiveness at mediocrity, turning to each other and letting out sighs of faux exasperation meant to cut deep, eliciting another round of titters and chortles. It was like being back in grade school again and subjected to public humiliation from the “in-crowd”.

Looking around at the dejection and tenseness of his fellow contestants, Mi Sha cleared his throat. He wasn't feeling guilty, per se. But he had to admit, in order to create highlights and “drama” on the show without the traditional use of malicious cutting and piecing of footage, deliberate additions inevitably had to be added. And what better source of drama than snide NPC characters in a position of power? 

Besides, even for real people judges, sharp critique and acerbic remarks were not unheard of. His NPC judges were just more overt because they didn't need to worry about their public image. They were the “villains” after all.