Auditions began promptly at seven in the morning, held at a mid-tier hotel downtown. By the time Feng Su arrived with Li Si, the entrance was already crowded with cars, the lobby buzzing with eager young faces.
Crystal Lake Massacre. A horror film.
The premise was simple and brutal: a group of beautiful young people vacation at Crystal Lake—only to be hunted down one by one by a killer lurking in the shadows.
After reading the script, Li Si realized something: this world's Crystal Lake Massacre might just be the parallel version of Friday the 13th.
Back in his original world, Friday the 13th had exploded in 2009, immortalizing the iconic killer Jason. But here, horror films had only started emerging recently, quickly cultivating a passionate fanbase among thrill-seeking youth. Director Sun was a rising name in the genre—renowned for gritty, realistic style and cruelly believable tension.
No wonder every up-and-coming performing arts company was sending their freshest faces to try out. The competition was brutal.
"Speak politely," Feng Su whispered while fussing with Li Si's collar. "Greet the teachers, keep a good face—don't act like you just rolled out of bed."
"Okay," Li Si muttered. Then cleared his throat and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in," a voice replied from inside.
Li Si pushed open the door and stepped into a room thick with the scent of plastic and sweat—cheap props scattered around. Two screenwriters sat on the left whispering, while a man in thick black-rimmed glasses skimmed over a stack of papers.
Director Sun.
He didn't look up. "Li Si, right? Su introduced you. Which role are you auditioning for?"
"Hello, teacher. I'd like to try for male number two."
Director Sun didn't even pause. "That role's already taken. Try for Li Qi, a supporting role. Go wait over there. We'll do a group audition."
Li Qi. Li Si recalled the name—one of the earliest victims. Slashed apart within the first ten minutes of the movie. A total cannon fodder.
But he didn't argue. "Understood."
He stepped aside and joined a line of young actors waiting near the wall. One of them—a baby-faced boy with too much gel in his hair—gave him a smug look and scoffed aloud. Li Si didn't flinch.
Director Sun kept flipping through files like he hadn't heard.
Finally, when no new actors came in, Director Sun clapped once. "Alright, let's begin."
---
Actors came and went. The sun crept toward afternoon. Audition fatigue was settling in.
Honestly, no one cared about the role of Li Qi. For a character with three lines and a five-second death scene, the audition was pure formality. Still, Director Sun went through the motions, yawning.
"This scene is simple," he said. "The killer appears suddenly, Li Qi screams and dies. That's it."
He looked around, then pointed. "Dong Fan, you play the killer."
Ironically, it was the smug boy who sneered at Li Si earlier.
Dong Fan straightened with theatrical enthusiasm. "Got it, director!"
He grabbed a pen from the desk, wielding it like a machete. Eyes wide, he stomped toward Li Si with exaggerated menace.
And Li Si...
He just blinked at him, dazed.
Dong Fan reached him, jabbed the pen into his stomach, and only then did Li Si react, blinking in confusion.
"Huh? We've started already?"
Director Sun's brow furrowed. He hated actors who didn't take things seriously.
But Li Qi was a nothing role, and Su had personally asked for Li Si. So Director Sun forced himself to swallow the annoyance. "Again. Seriously, this time."
But Li Si didn't move. Instead, he raised a hand.
"Director," he said, "can I make a small suggestion? I feel the killer wouldn't attack like this—it's too casual. It doesn't feel real."
That snapped something in Director Sun.
"Oh? You think you can do better?" He crossed his arms, sneering. "Then you be the killer."
He already made up his mind to kick this kid out afterward, no matter how the scene went.
Li Si stepped forward.
Twirled the pen in his fingers.
Smoothed his hair down.
Then slowly, deliberately, raised his head and looked at Dong Fan.
Just that single glance—and the entire atmosphere changed.
Director Sun sat up straight. The screenwriters stopped whispering.
Li Si's gaze wasn't cold—but inside it burned something restrained and unsettling. A gleam like the glint of steel under velvet.
A predator's patience before a clean kill.
"There are many kinds of murderers," he began softly. His voice trembled ever so slightly at the ends of his words—like something struggling to stay caged.
Each time he finished a sentence, he took one step forward.
Nine words. One step. Unnervingly precise.
"Cleanliness. Obsessive-compulsive. Violent impulses. These things? Common. But they aren't what define a killer."
Step.
"The one thing real killers share—the one trait that separates them from the rest of us..."
Step.
He stopped directly in front of Dong Fan.
"Do you know what that is?"
The pen cap slipped off. The tip of the pen glinted, hovering at Dong Fan's throat.
And Li Si smiled.
"The answer is—"
He leaned in close.
"—we never considered ourselves part of humanity to begin with."
Dong Fan shrieked. A raw, primal sound.
He stumbled back, crashing into a stool, falling hard. But he didn't stop—scrambled across the floor on all fours until he reached the corner of the room, curling up and shaking like a leaf.
Silence.
Everyone was staring at Li Si.
Director Sun was gripping his glasses with both hands, blinking rapidly.
The spell broke only when Li Si pointed at the door Dong Fan had fled through.
"That wasn't me," he said dryly.
A beat passed. Then Director Sun abruptly stood up.
---
Ten minutes later, Li Si strolled out of the hotel lobby, yawning.
Feng Su, who had been checking her watch every thirty seconds, leaned across the car window. "How was it? Did you get the part?"
"Yeah," Li Si said, climbing in. "I got it."
She exhaled. "Good. Which role?"
He buckled his seatbelt, looked out the window, and replied casually—
"The murderer."
Feng Su froze mid-motion.
Then started the car, lips twitching.
---
To be Continued...