Revenge Begins: Reincarnated as a Hated Idol!-Chapter 37: Silent Transformation

Aren stood in a corner, studying the scene the director wanted him to play. This scene was from the middle of the drama, considered the turning point in the lead character’s ideals.

The scene depicted him and his group of friends protesting against the governor’s tyranny. It was set in the 1900s, with a corrupt governor as the villain and the protagonist’s struggle against him.

In this particular scene, the governor sent the police force to shut down the protest, where due to the adrenaline rush, some of the protesters threw stones at the police, prompting the police to fire.

The protagonist was shot in the leg as he tried to escape, and the scene depicted his struggle and the change in his ideals.

It was when he was crawling that he decided to stop relying on protests and take matters into his own hands.

However, the scene had no dialogue; the actor had to convey the change in his character just from his gaze and expression, which was the hardest part.

It was because of this that the director wanted Aren to play this scene in particular. If Aren could perform this scene perfectly, then he would be convinced.

Since there was no dialogue, Aren didn’t need to memorize anything; he just had to make sure his acting ability was at the required level.

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Name –> Aren Frost

Age –> 22

Appearance –> B[–]

Acting –> B[–]

Charm –> D[+]

Fame –> D —> D [+]

Athleticism –> C [–]

Reputation –> E —> E [+]

Hidden Stat (locked)

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In these few days, he had received quite a few Fame Points, allowing him to use them to increase his acting ability at this critical juncture.

In total, he had eleven Fame Points to invest, which he dumped all in Acting.

Acting –> B[–] —> B

After feeling the increase in his acting ability, he felt ready to act out the scene.

He went to the center of the hall, standing in front of the director, Venste Morel, and the writer, Seth Nava.

The director and the writer, who were busy conversing with each other, turned to pay full attention to Aren as the director said, "You can begin."

Aren gave a silent nod before taking in a long breath, slipping into the character.

His mind wasn’t empty; instead, he imagined.

He imagined protesting with hope in his eyes, frustration in his heart, anger toward the governor, and pity at the situation of the masses.

He imagined the chants rising around him—hoarse voices demanding justice, fists raised high, banners fluttering in the smoky air.

He imagined the dust beneath his feet, the smell of sweat and unrest thick in the atmosphere, the weight of shared hope pressing against his chest.

His breathing grew heavier from the exhaustion of trying to escape.

Then—

His body jerked subtly, as if something had struck him.

A sharp inhale.

He fell to the ground, his hand instinctively flying to his thigh.

Pain.

His brows furrowed, not in fear, but in disbelief.

The pain was more than he had imagined.

Still, he did not shriek, not wishing to attract any attention.

For a moment, he remained still, trying to reel in the pain, clenching his jaw.

The hope that had burned so brightly moments ago flickered.

Slowly, painfully, he began to crawl, dragging his wounded leg, pulling himself forward inch by inch.

Around him—though there was no one physically present—he reacted as if someone had noticed him.

His eyes darted slightly to the side, tracking invisible movement. Then he relaxed, the danger passing. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Confusion.

Doubt.

Fear.

Was he on the right path?

Could a harmless protest really change anything?

His eyes shifted from outward fury to inward realization.

At first, there was still anger in his expression—anger at the governor, at the police, at injustice.

But as he crawled, something changed.

The anger lost its direction.

His breathing steadied a little.

His brows relaxed slightly, no longer twisted in raw emotion.

His eyes darkened.

The idealism faded.

Hope drained away—not in despair, but in calculation.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

He paused mid-crawl.

His head lifted slowly.

His eyes reflected clarity.

A terrifying, quiet clarity.

The protester was gone.

In his place was someone who had understood a brutal truth.

He stopped crawling.

His fingers curled into a fist.

Not in desperation—but in resolve.

His eyes narrowed, no longer pleading with the world to change.

Now, they promised that he would change it himself.

Silence filled the hall.

Aren remained frozen in that final posture, eyes burning with restrained intent.

The air between him and the director felt heavy.

He did not blink.

He did not move.

He simply held the gaze—

Until Venste Morel slowly leaned back in his chair.

The writer looked at him wide-eyed, while the director revealed a satisfied smile.

...

After three hours, he was standing in another audition hall, in front of a different director and writer.

This audition was for the dark role that he wanted to play. The name of the drama was Symphony of Shadows.

The director, Fin Jacobs, was a man in his thirties with a handsome face; however, he hadn’t had any successful drama yet under his name.

The writer, Kace Wean, was also a newbie.

Aren, however, couldn’t help but look at them with respect. The script was top-tier, and if executed well, could easily turn into a classic hit.

They both told Aren that they hadn’t sent the script to anyone other than him, already deciding on him as their lead. This audition was just a formality, and Aren could even choose to skip it if he wished to.

Their only demand was a quick answer and a solid commitment. They didn’t want to wait long for Aren’s decision.

If Aren declined, they might have to spend quite a bit of time finding another suitable actor.

"Give me a week, and I will give you my final answer."

Aren left with that, not bothering with the audition. Since he already had the role, there was no point.

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(A/N - Thanks for reading. ^..^)