“Ah, good morning, fair world!”

A melodramatic voice declared loud enough to startle clarity back into the glaze that had taken over Mi Sha's eyes. He found himself sitting up straighter in an unconscious gesture when he spotted a familiar golden head bobbing onto the stage. 

Before he knew it, several auditions had gone by in a blur and it was only just now Mi Sha felt how stiff the pleasant smile on his face had become. No one ever told him having cameras trained on every micro expression was this exhausting. Nevermind the fact that these cameras were actually quite well disguised as hummingbirds.

Renato stood confidently in front of the judges, beaming that seraphic smile of his. He began his audition with a deep bow, his exaggerated movements drawing scattered laughter. “Another day in the life of Malvolio, the ever-dutiful, ever-hopeful, ever—dare I say it?—misunderstood servant.”

Like Rory, Renato had prepared a stage play performance, only—and at this Mi Sha raised an imperceptible eyebrow in interest—he, or someone, had helped him to write an entirely new scene based on a well-known Shakespearean play character rather than go the traditional route.

Renato took a few steps towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and pantomimed opening curtains. With a flick of his wrist, he mimed being blinded by sunlight, flailing dramatically. “Ah, but the sun conspires against me! A celestial betrayal!” He staggered back, tripping over an invisible stool and landing on his rear with a loud thud.

Several more watching contestants let out startled snorts and laughter, and even the judges leaned forward, their body language if not their faces managing to convey a piqued interest.

As Renato climbed to his feet, his faux frustration grew palpable. “Never mind! The day awaits, and duty calls! Lady Olivia demands perfection, and perfection she shall receive!” He adjusted imaginary stockings with an air of self-importance and one could easily picture a mismatched servant’s ensemble featuring absurdly high stockings embroidered with golden cross-garters on his person rather than the jeans and hoodie he actually wore. After which he then crossed the stage, miming the act of dusting an imaginary vase.

Suddenly, his foot caught on another invisible object, and he stumbled. With perfect comedic timing, Renato flailed his arms wildly before grabbing onto the “vase” for balance. His expression shifted to horror as he realized he had “broken” it.

What followed was an increasingly hilarious sequence of events as Renato depicted an ordinary day in the life of the servant Malvolio. He found a stubborn spot on a table, mimed scrubbing furiously, blowing on the spot, and finally resorting to spitting on an invisible cloth and using it to polish the table. As he leaned in for a final inspection, he accidentally “knocked” over an imaginary bottle of ink, which he reacted to with frantic despair. 

Renato’s antics had everyone in stitches, but he wasn’t done yet. After preening in front of a mirror, he began strutting across the stage with an exaggerated sway of his hips, only to trip on his own “stockings” and tumble to the ground.

Even the judges chortled behind politely raised fans or hands as Renato picked himself up, muttering, “It’s fine. Dignity intact. No one saw that.” He froze, glancing straight into the eyes of the closest hummingbird drone, then added in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “Except everyone.”

Renato finished his act with a grand bow, sweeping his arms wide and grinning ear to ear. “And thus concludes another day in the life of Malvolio, servant, dreamer, and unfortunate fool. Thank you, one and all!”

Many contestants erupted into applause, the sound echoing through the grand ballroom. The judges, surprisingly, also clapped with genteel enthusiasm.

“He has great comedic timing.” Phoenix leaned over and whispered by Mi Sha's ear, his breath unintentionally disrupting his hair. 

Mi Sha lifted a shoulder and rubbed absentmindedly at the itch, agreeing with a nod. “A perfect blend of Shakespearean charm and modern humor.”

Both actors, Renato's clearly more “exaggerated” acting seemed to have gone over even better than Rory's more restrained style as he exited the stage to thunderous applause, his smile bright and infectious. As he rejoined the other contestants, he was met with pats on the back and words of congratulations at his high rating.

In truth, Mi Sha himself preferred Rory's acting style when choosing actors for his films. But he had to admit, Renato did an excellent job at injecting some much needed energy towards the auditions as the lineup crept increasingly closer towards the midway point—and to Mi Sha's own turn to take the stage.

There was only one other contestant's audition he was looking forward to before it was his turn.

And as if on cue, Augutstus’ tall, thin frame stood up in a seat nearby and passed Mi Sha on his way to the front. Mi Sha's keen sense of smell couldn't help but pick up the scent of sandalwood and fresh linen.

It wasn't until Augustus approached the grand piano that Mi Sha noticed he had left his cello case conspicuously behind back on his seat. Exchanging a surprised look with Phoenix, Mi Sha looked back just in time to see Augustus place his hands on the keys, and the room fell silent.

He began with a haunting operatic introduction, his deep, magnetic voice weaving a melancholic melody. But just as the audience settled into the classical tone, the performance shifted. Augustus transitioned into a complex jazz-inspired piano arrangement, his fingers dancing across the keys with precision and flair.

And then came the rap. 

His voice transformed, delivering rapid-fire verses with an impressive cadence. The lyrics were poetic, introspective, and perfectly matched to the intricate piano accompaniment. The blend of genres—opera, jazz, and rap—was unexpected yet seamless, doing more to showcase Augustus’ genius as a composer and performer than a piece of resume could.

By the time he finished, the room was buzzing with excitement, with some standing on their feet. Mi Sha, who had initially expected a cello performance, was also on his feet, clapping loudly. Even as he felt adrenaline rushing in his blood, he noticed a conspicuous boy with a cloud of pale pink hair standing stock still like a stump of wood a little ways in front of him. From his perspective, Mi Sha's gaze easily traced the popping veins on pale forearms and fists stuffed into his jeans pockets.

Even though he wasn't able to see the boy's expression, Mi Sha somehow felt that the other was actually restraining his excitement rather than any feelings of offense.

But before he could linger on the boy with pretty, cotton candy hair further, it was finally Mi Sha's turn to be called up. Right after Augustus, coincidentally enough.

When his name was called in a crisp, detached tone by one of the NPC staff dressed in sharp monochrome with silver epaulets and the perpetual faceless white porcelain mask, many of the contestants cast him sympathetic, almost pitying looks. How could anyone top that audition after all?

But Mi Sha ignored the exchanged glances and whisperings with ease as he made his way forward, his expression calm, almost serene. He only paused to smile back at Phoenix who had clapped him on the shoulder supportingly.

He passed by Augustus, who had his new uniform in hand, looking as ephemeral as ever despite delivering a powerful and unexpected rap audition of all things. Slate gray met starry black before the taller man nodded at Mi Sha, an unspoken acknowledgment of a fellow kind. There was more than one person here who had hidden and unexpected depths to them.

Lady Wonderton seemed to watch him closely as he took his place in front of her, the eerie slash of scarlet-painted lips on her otherwise faceless porcelain mask seeming to take on a sly note.

“No. 98, Mi Sha” she crooned, her tone dripping with a curiosity that sounded both mocking and genuine. “Well, let's have it then… your performance.”

Mi Sha inclined his head slightly, unfazed. “I am sure it will be worth your while,” he replied with a smile just flirting on the side of impudence, his tone respectful yet challenging.

Lady Wonderton laughed, the sound a high, delighted crowing, as she gestured for him to proceed with a wave of her jeweled hand. He took his place in the center, and though he hadn’t prepared in any traditional sense, he knew precisely what he was doing.

Like smoke from an incense stick, a pale, slender wrist that tapered down long fingers twisted lazily in the air.

But in the next breath, a forceful, decisive movement shattered that softness—a powerful swing of the elbow, a bend at the waist as sharp as an axe cleaving through stone. Each action carried a stunning grace, fluid and precise, a beauty that was both clean and intense.

Every gesture seemed effortless, every detail casual, as though nothing were planned—and indeed it was as free as the flight of a bird. Yet the effect was magnetic, an undeniable allure that seized one’s gaze, making it impossible to look away.

The performance was saturated with a silent strength and beauty, each moment drawing the eye with irresistible force.

In a daze, all the contestants seemed to see a magnificent blood red spider lily, its spindly stamens fluttering in the wind, blooming without hesitation to scorch the retina with exquisite allure. 

And at its heart, shone a dark, fathomless starry night.

No—that wasn’t the night sky. It was Mi Sha's eyes.

Hidden beneath a cascade of inky lashes, those dark orbs flashed in the fervor of his dance, as piercing as the gaze of a masterful hunter.

And any prey caught in those eyes—surely none could escape.

He moved with an effortless grace, his expression a controlled mask of concentration and poise, projecting a charisma that felt both captivating and elusive. He wasn’t simply performing; he was commanding the stage, a natural ease in his movements and gestures that drew the room’s focus to him alone.

Lady Wonderton watched, the lazy fanning against her chest pausing in mid-movement, her focus sharpening as she leaned in slightly, as though she were trying to decipher some hidden layer within his performance.

When he finished, the silence lingered for a moment before Lady Wonderton let out a girlish titter, followed by her approving nod. “Another unexpected audition. But I suppose surprises are necessary for entertainment, aren’t they?” Beside her the pink lady fluttered her feather fan in coy delight. 

She flicked her fan closed with a sharp snap, her “gaze” holding his for a moment longer before she nodded to another NPC staff dressed as a footman. The footman approached with Mi Sha’s uniform: a white silk bomber jacket adorned with a band of five golden stars, the highest possible rating. The first to receive five stars that day.

As he slipped the jacket over his shoulders, a subtle murmur rippled through the contestants. Mi Sha felt several distinct gazes on him once more—scorching and eager, admiring and flustered, intense and focused, or airy and intangible.

He could feel the energy in the room shift as he took his place among the contestants once again, his rating clear on his sleeves. Gone were the pitying looks to be replaced with an enthusiastic reception. Hands from all directions reached over to give him high fives and fist bumps as their owners smiled and cheered him whether in true genuine feeling or simply putting on a front for the cameras. 

This reaction, more than anything, cemented the fact that he was no longer simply the Director Loveless observing from afar, detached from the world around him. Here, on the stage and in the spotlight, he was a player, just like the rest of them—and if he had his way, he’d claim that center spot for himself.

Mi Sha's smile widened just a bit.