Hell's Actor

Averie ripped the note and flushed it down the toilet.

"Damned thing is cursed."

He washed his hands, observing his expression in the mirror as his mind kept going back to the words on that paper.

'Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.'

Best known for Faust, Goethe was widely considered the greatest German writer of all time.

'Peculiar man.'

He was allowed entry into Heaven, yet he chose to enter Hell.

'Always working on something or the other. It's an insult to consider him nothing but a writer.'

A frown crawled over Averie's expression.

"Did he write it?"

It felt like one of his idle writings.

'What is a masterpiece for someone else could only be considered scratchwork for him.'

The man would literally throw his freshly written stories into the fires of Hell because he didn't like to clutter his writing table.

But the ones he kept were always the ones Averie craved. Those were precious to him. Those were his masterpieces.

Yet the man never allowed anyone to read them.

Averie remembered how he and Lucifer once planned to drown the man in the deepest lava lake of Hell—so they could take a peek at his works.

It never worked out, of course. Every time they tried to discuss the plan, they would end up playing poker and making fun of some of the tortured souls.

Averie smiled.

'Good times.'

The more he thought about it, the more he felt Goethe's hand in the writing.

'Maybe, he was involved partially. Did Lucifer ask him to write something?'

He could have given him one of the works lying on the pile to be burned.

'No, it's just a summary. He would have written a proper script.'

Yet the actual script for BSPH didn't read like one of Goethe's works.

'But who knows? The man has spent centuries in Hell; his writing style could have changed. He wasn't really known for his writings in English either.'

Another thought crossed Averie's mind.

'What if it was stolen? By Lucifer, perhaps?'

It could explain how such a perfect role found him shortly after he transmigrated.

'Goethe wouldn't know if a stack of paper were to disappear.'

But it felt slightly far-fetched.

'I only found the summary of the second half of the finale.'

It could've been stolen; it could've been a prank.

But Averie had this feeling in his gut that something was wrong.

'The laminated note with the serial number ending with triple six. The accident took place in front of Patricia's building.'

Yeah, it was pretty suspicious.

'No, can't be a natural death.'

When Averie found himself back in the company of Peter Kang, he had the pleasure of listening to more of Do-Yun Park and John Strom's gossip.

"What was she doing out so late in a taxi? And near Patricia's building, too?"

"Who knows? Some of our mutual friends say she had been acting weird lately, like a madwoman."

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't sleep, apparently. Used to blabber about 'the crow,' whatever that meant."

John swept a cautious glance around the room. "She wasn't mad, was she?"

"Maybe? A friend from the police noticed her in an alley late at night. He certainly didn't think she was 'all there.'"

"How awful."

"I know, right?"

"Nonsense," Raymond Lee interjected. "Everyone likes to embellish. Don't believe a single thing. And what if she was going a little mad? Every writer I've ever met is the same."

"Yeah," Averie muttered under his breath. "They are all batshit crazy."

"Take my advice; don't repeat this nonsense in front of anyone else."

He was looking explicitly at Peter and Averie, which stung a little.

'When have I ever said something stupid?'

"If that's nonsense, then you haven't heard anything yet."

It was Su-Jin James, speaking with an air of mischief.

"You know that the car burned for almost an hour before the firefighters arrived, right?"

Everyone nodded, including In-Su Kim. Not a single one of them was a decent human being, according to Averie.

"So, according to one of the witnesses, a small shadow appeared out of the flames after half an hour."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Like a dog or a cat—something that small leapt out of the burning car and disappeared into a nearby alley."

Peter snapped his fingers, a bit too loudly. "Now, that's what I call nonsense."

"You haven't heard everything yet." The actor cleared his throat. "The taxi driver's body was found in an… interesting state. He—"

A family member of Sophie—most likely her grandmother—was passing by.

"How sad." She sniffled. "How tragic."

It got the seven changing their tune.

"What a poor lady," Su-Jin James said, shaking his head with a tense expression.

In-Su Kim rubbed his cheeks. "She had such a wonderful career ahead of her."

"I miss her already," Raymond Lee said with the most deadpan delivery.

"Why?" Peter was a little more animated. "Why must God take his brightest children?"

Do-Yun Park let out a groan. "I remember how she used to bring us donuts every time she visited the set."

Even though he tried, Averie couldn't remember that.

"Such a kind soul." John Strom clicked his tongue. "I always wanted an older sister like her. I even considered her one."

Averie clenched his buttocks. It was time to deliver his line, and he couldn't be outdone.

With slumped shoulders, he let out a hiccup. "It's— why? I… I don't understand."

He shed a tear.

"Why?" He turned to the ceiling. "God! Why, God? Why?"

His back quivered as he leaned back and slid down the wall.

"She made me!"

He hit his chest, as if he was pounding the pain away.

"She practically made me!"

Everyone's attention was on him now.

"Dude," Peter whispered through his clenched jaw. "What're you doing?"

But Averie couldn't be stopped. The acting bug wouldn't let him.

"Who was I before her? No one! A nobody! Why do you hate me, God?"

His pathetic weeping was making even Sophie's attention-seeking sister doubt his shamelessness. She couldn't believe there was someone more capable of making it all about herself.

"I loved her so much. She used" — He wiped a teardrop off his cheek — "to say, 'Quinn—' She called me Quinn before media and fans picked it up. 'Quinn,' she used to say, 'You are the best.' And—"

He sniffled.

"And I never forgot that."

He continued crying, and nobody understood how any of what he said had anything to do with her death.

Slowly, the wave of attention receded.

Averie stood up. "How was I? Good, right?"

But nobody answered, not even Peter.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Su-Jin continued, "The body of the taxi driver had some missing chunks."

"I mean," — Peter lowered his voice — "how else was he supposed to be found? He was in an accident."

"Yeah, but nobody found the missing body parts. It was as if something had gouged them off."

"What exactly was missing?" Raymond Lee asked.

It was unlike him. He usually kept quiet. But Averie liked his morbid curiosity.

"Some of his teeth." Su-Jin ticked off on his fingers. "Hair on his entire body."

Peter interrupted. "Could have burnt off."

"Yeah, but they would've found some evidence of it."

With the group's collective gaze of admonishment upon him, Peter shut up.

"One of his eyes was missing. His skin, parts of his organs, muscles, some brain matter, and even bones."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course, it was weird, and that's why no one in the police has ruled it an accident yet."

Everyone—leave for Averie—was creeped out.

And the hellish actor found it very interesting.

'This is as suspicious as it gets.'

He had his confirmation.

'Yeah, the woman was definitely tangled up with someone from Hell.'

The topic soon changed, and Averie found himself sitting alone, contemplating.

It was while his eyes were closed that he felt a warm touch on his arm.

He opened his eyes to find a charming and familiar girl leaning against him, holding his arm.

Ellie Arnold was there.

"Hello, there," the actor said with a grin. "Just arrived?"

"Unfortunately. I thought you wouldn't be here. I would have come sooner otherwise."

"Such devotion. I am moved."

They chuckled.

"You don't mind?" asked the actress.

"Why would I?"

"We are in public."

"Is there something between us?"

"I don't know."

"Be reasonable."

"Okay," — She rolled her eyes — "there's nothing. But still, does it matter to others? Everyone is fickle when you are a celebrity."

Her fingers curled around his. She propped her chin on his shoulder.

"Do you not mind?"

Averie stuck out his tongue. "Have I ever cared about public opinion?"

Murders, assaults, burglaries—he had so many accusations against him.

'An affair is the tamest of my worries.'

Honestly, he thought it could be enjoyable even.

'Wouldn't it be fun to see people curse at me for loving someone?'

Yet, it didn't feel right for the girl looking at him with affection. And it wasn't fair for Hyerin, who'd have to put up with the media.

'Can't have her crying over it.'

As the surroundings wept in the hall of God, the actor from Hell hummed for the lady clinging to him.