Regression of a Star

Haruki's heart raced as the rival actor's words echoed in his mind. Be careful—this crowd isn't as friendly as they seem. Aya noticed his unease and leaned closer, her voice low and steady.

"Haruki, focus. We're here for Yamashita, not to settle old scores."

He nodded, forcing himself to push the anxiety aside. The air in the grand hall felt heavier now, each glance from the crowd seeming more scrutinizing. The glittering chandeliers above only heightened the sense of exposure.

Yamashita remained at the center of the room, holding court with his admirers. Haruki and Aya slowly made their way toward him, pausing to exchange pleasantries with other guests, careful not to draw attention. Aya's sharp eyes scanned the room, noting every detail—the bodyguards discreetly stationed near Yamashita, the key players surrounding him, the subtle but significant glances exchanged between certain guests.

When they were finally close enough, Yamashita turned toward Haruki, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

"Well, well. Haruki Takahara. It's been a while."

Haruki smiled politely, masking his unease. "Mr. Yamashita. It's an honor to be here."

Yamashita chuckled, his voice smooth but laced with authority. "I was surprised to see your name on the guest list. I thought you'd retired from the spotlight."

Haruki met his gaze, refusing to falter. "I've been focusing on different kinds of projects. But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to attend an event like this."

Yamashita studied him for a moment, then extended a hand. "Well, it's good to see you. Let's catch up later—I'd love to hear about these 'different kinds of projects.'"

Haruki shook his hand, feeling the strength of Yamashita's grip. "I'd like that."

As Yamashita moved on to greet other guests, Aya leaned in close. "He's testing you. We need to tread carefully."

Haruki nodded, his mind racing. "Let's split up. We need to gather as much information as we can before anyone gets suspicious."

Beneath the Surface

While Haruki mingled, Aya slipped away, her notebook hidden in her purse. She scanned the room for anything unusual, her intuition guiding her toward a group of executives deep in conversation near the bar. Posing as a curious film enthusiast, she struck up a conversation, her charm disarming them.

As they spoke, Aya picked up snippets of information—cryptic references to "special funding" and "private agreements." She noted the way certain names were dropped with reverence, the kind of names that didn't appear in public records.

Meanwhile, Haruki found himself cornered by an older actress who had been a staple in the industry for decades. She was polite but probing, her questions about his career laced with subtle condescension. Haruki played along, careful not to reveal too much.

As the night wore on, he noticed something strange: a door near the back of the hall, guarded by two men in suits. Guests occasionally slipped through, but only after showing something to the guards.

Haruki's curiosity burned. What's behind that door?

A Dangerous Gamble

Haruki managed to slip away from the main crowd, making his way toward the guarded door. He kept his movements casual, blending in as best he could. When he reached the door, one of the guards stepped forward, his expression impassive.

"Private area," the guard said firmly.

Haruki smiled, feigning ignorance. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just looking for the restroom."

The guard didn't budge. "It's not here."

Haruki nodded, backing away, but his mind was already working on a plan. He needed to get past that door—but how?

Suddenly, Aya appeared at his side, her expression calm but her voice urgent. "I overheard something. Yamashita's holding a private meeting back there. Only select guests are allowed in. We need to find a way to join them."

Haruki glanced around, spotting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses. An idea formed.

"We need a distraction," he whispered. "Something subtle but effective."

Aya's lips curled into a small smile. "Leave it to me."

The Distraction

Aya approached the bar, engaging a group of guests in animated conversation. Her charisma drew attention, and soon, she was the center of a lively debate about the state of the film industry. As the guests grew more engrossed, Aya subtly knocked over a glass of wine, causing a minor commotion.

The distraction was enough. While the guards' attention wavered, Haruki slipped past them, his heart pounding.

The hallway beyond the door was starkly different from the opulence of the main hall. It was dimly lit and quiet, the air thick with tension. Haruki moved carefully, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.

At the end of the hallway, he found a room where muffled voices could be heard. He pressed his ear to the door, straining to make out the conversation.

"…project must remain under wraps," a deep voice said. "If the media gets wind of this, it's over."

Another voice, smooth and familiar, replied, "Relax. Everything is under control. Our investments are secure, and the talent knows their place. No one's going to step out of line."

Haruki's blood ran cold. This is it. Proof that the Circle operates behind the scenes, controlling everything.

But before he could gather his thoughts, the door suddenly opened. Haruki stumbled back, coming face-to-face with Yamashita himself.

"Well, Haruki," Yamashita said, his smile cold. "It seems you've found your way into the wrong room."

Haruki's mind raced as he tried to think of an explanation, but he knew one thing for sure—he was in deep trouble now.