Regression of a Star

A week had passed since Haruki's unsettling encounter with the mysterious man. Though he threw himself into preparing for Yumi Tanaka's film, the weight of the past still lingered. He had hoped for peace, but the shadows of his former life seemed determined to pull him back.

One morning, as Haruki was reviewing his lines, Aya burst into the room, holding an envelope with no return address.

"This came for you," she said, her brow furrowed.

Haruki took the envelope, its crisp, white surface devoid of any clues about the sender. He hesitated before opening it, his gut warning him to be cautious. Inside was a formal, handwritten invitation:

"You are cordially invited to a private gala celebrating the luminaries of the industry. Your presence is requested as an honored guest.

Date: Saturday.

Location: The Celestial Ballroom."

There was no signature, just an ornate logo embossed at the bottom—a golden star encircled by laurel leaves.

"This seems… odd," Aya said, leaning over his shoulder. "Do you know who sent it?"

Haruki shook his head. "No. But it feels deliberate. Someone wants me there."

"Are you going?" Aya's voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern.

Haruki stared at the invitation, his thoughts racing. The Celestial Ballroom was a venue reserved for the elite, a place where deals were made, alliances forged, and reputations solidified—or destroyed.

"I have to," Haruki said at last. "If this is connected to what's been happening, I need to find out."

The Gala

Saturday arrived, and Haruki dressed in a sleek, tailored suit that Aya insisted he wear. "If you're going to face whoever's behind this, you might as well look like you belong," she said with a smirk.

The Celestial Ballroom was a vision of opulence, its grand chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd of industry giants. Haruki stepped inside, his presence immediately drawing attention. Whispers followed him as he made his way through the room.

Despite the grandeur, something felt off. The conversations were too hushed, the smiles too forced. Haruki scanned the room, searching for the man from the festival—or any familiar face.

"Haruki Saito."

The voice made him stop in his tracks. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Ryota Takeda, a fellow actor he hadn't seen in years. Ryota's career had once paralleled Haruki's, but their paths had diverged sharply after a bitter falling out.

"Ryota," Haruki said, his tone neutral.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Ryota said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "But I suppose even the great Haruki can't resist the pull of the limelight."

"I'm not here for the limelight," Haruki replied evenly. "What about you? Still chasing it?"

Ryota's smile faltered for a moment before returning with a sharper edge. "Some of us know how to play the game. You, on the other hand, seem to have forgotten the rules."

Before Haruki could respond, a sharp chime echoed through the room, signaling the start of the evening's program. The crowd shifted toward the stage, where a man in a dark suit stood at the podium.

The Host's Revelation

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host began, his deep voice commanding the room's attention. "Tonight, we celebrate not just the stars of our industry, but the stories that shape them—the triumphs, the sacrifices, and yes, the betrayals."

Haruki's chest tightened at the word "betrayals." The man's gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on him before moving on.

"As we honor the luminaries among us, let us not forget that the brightest stars often cast the darkest shadows."

The room erupted in applause, but Haruki couldn't shake the feeling that the speech was directed at him.

The Confrontation

As the night progressed, Haruki kept to the edges of the crowd, avoiding unnecessary interactions. But the tension in the room seemed to build with every passing minute. Finally, as he was about to leave, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Leaving so soon?"

Haruki turned to find the man from the festival standing behind him, his smirk as infuriating as ever.

"You again," Haruki said, pulling his arm free. "What do you want?"

The man chuckled. "I wanted to see how far you'd come. But it seems you're still running, still trying to escape the truth."

"What truth?" Haruki demanded, his voice low but firm.

The man leaned in, his voice a whisper. "The truth about who you were—and who you still are. You can't rewrite the past, Haruki. And sooner or later, it will catch up with you."

Before Haruki could respond, the man disappeared into the crowd, leaving him standing there, his mind a whirlwind of questions.

A Warning

Back at his apartment, Haruki recounted the night to Aya, leaving nothing out.

"This is getting serious," Aya said, her worry evident. "Whoever this guy is, he's not just messing with you. He knows something."

"I know," Haruki said, running a hand through his hair. "But until he comes out and says it, I'm stuck playing his game."

Aya hesitated before speaking. "Maybe it's time to stop reacting and start acting. Find out who he is before he makes his next move."

Haruki nodded. She was right. If he wanted to protect the life he was building, he couldn't stay on the defensive.

"Alright," he said, a steely determination in his voice. "Let's find out what he's hiding—and why he's so determined to bring me down."