Victor’s wrist tensed beneath Zeno’s hand. However, Zeno didn’t let go. He only tilted his head slightly, a ploy to make himself appear as clueless and innocent as possible.
The others watched the scene with bated breaths, and even as the injured extra woke up, their focus was still on Victor and Zeno.
Jace quickly tended to the hurt man, giving him a bottle of cold water. The set was still silent until Victor let out a short laugh.
“Zeno, you’re early. You’re not supposed to be here yet.”
“I went out on a run,” Zeno said, not loosening his grip.
“Right,” Victor muttered, a forced smile tugging at his lips as he pulled his hand back with a strained chuckle. “Of course.”
Then, in a complete one-eighty, Victor knelt down beside the collapsed extra. “Are you alright, Marvin?” he asked in a softer tone—one he didn’t use when Zeno wasn’t around.
Zeno smirked in amusement. Victor actually knew the name of this extra?
Marvin stirred weakly, lifting his head an inch. “Y-Yes, sir.”
“That’s good,” Victor muttered before turning to Zeno.
“You asked what I was going to do,” he started off.
“I was going to make sure he was okay, of course,” Victor continued, straightening his back and glancing around at the staring extras. “I push my artists to become the best, but I am humane. This is my style. There’s a method in the madness.”
He clapped his hands once. “Let’s take thirty, shall we?”
There were a few hesitant nods. The extras weren’t sure if this was mercy or just the eye of the storm.
Victor turned to Zeno one last time. “You should rest more. We’re going to be even busier in the upcoming days.
“These early jogs might be affecting your perception.”
Then, with a wide smile, he walked away with Devon appearing wary, tailing after him.
Zeno didn’t say anything. He watched Victor’s back retreat across the field.
The moment Victor was gone, a small group swarmed Marvin.
“Teacher!” one girl cried.
“I’m alright,” Marvin muttered, sitting up as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “It was just too hot.”
“You should rest,” someone said, helping him sit against a crate of unused props.
Marvin smiled wearily. “We don’t have time. Go teach the others what to do so we can get it in one take later.”
“But sir—”
“I said I’m alright,” Marvin repeated, a little more firmly. Then softer, “You’ve all been working so hard. Let’s just… get this over with.”
Despite their worry, the others nodded and left, leaving Marvin sitting alone. However, Marvin didn’t sit still for long because he walked away from the set with clenched fists.
Zeno watched him, brows drawn slightly together. Then, he turned to Jace.
“You alright?”
Jace nodded, though his face was pale. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m going to check if Marvin’s alright. He seems genuinely hurt.”
With that, Jace started following after Marvin, with Zeno trailing quietly behind.
They moved across the grass, away from the bustle of the crew, toward the shade of a storage tent at the edge of the lot. That’s where they found him.
Marvin sat on a plastic chair, back turned, elbows on his knees as he stared down at the gravel. His silhouette sagged slightly like someone holding in exhaustion too long.
“Marvin,” Jace said carefully.
There was a pause.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Marvin finally answered.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Jace tilted his head in confusion. “Huh? Me?”
Marvin turned slowly, finally lifting his head. His eyes weren’t filled with disappointment. Instead, it was filled with rage.
“You,” he said clearly, pointing straight at him. “Zeno Han.”
“What?” Jace exclaimed right away. “Zeno did what anyone with a conscience would have done! He saved us—a lot of us from passing out like you.”
Marvin exhaled and looked away.
“Something worse could’ve happened, you know?” Jace continued. “I didn’t know Victor PD’s method was like that, but he wasn’t going to stop unless someone did. We also needed this break.”
“And if you’re looking for someone to blame,” Jace added, “then blame me. I was the one who interrupted the filming in the first place.”
Marvin looked Jace in the eyes, causing the latter’s breath to hitch.
“It doesn’t matter if it was you,” he said calmly, but there was a bitterness clinging to every word.
“Victor wouldn’t care.”
Jace blinked. “Huh?”
Marvin turned toward Zeno once more. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, pronounced lines forming around his mouth. “Because it was you—someone Victor values, someone he thinks is indispensable—then the ones who will suffer…”
He gestured loosely toward the rest of the set, toward the extras gathering again in the distance.
“…are us.”
Zeno’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
Marvin pushed himself up from the chair slowly. There was a slight limp in his movements, and it was then that Zeno realized he didn’t just have a heat stroke. It seemed he also had an injury.
“Victor won’t touch you,” Marvin continued, appearing to be taking out his pent-up anger on Zeno. “You have a name. A face. A ticket. He’ll treat you like gold in public, but the ones who’ll pay for your defiance—”
His voice cracked.
“—are the people he can replace.”
Jace’s shoulders stiffened. Marvin didn’t let up.
“You think he won’t retaliate?” Marvin asked. “He’ll reschedule scenes. Cut out footage. Push people until they drop. He’ll find the people you tried to protect and bleed them out with ten times the workload.”
Marvin stared at him and placed two fingers on his chest, pushing strongly. When Zeno didn’t budge, Marvin felt even more pathetic. He sighed and shook his head, not breaking their eye contact.
“You should have stayed still.”
“You shouldn’t have butted in if you didn’t know,” he said, voice as cold as ice. “If you weren’t ready for the consequences, then you shouldn’t have gotten involved at all.”
“Because us people can’t afford to pay for the price of your morals.”
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