Evil MC's NTR Harem

"We're here. Sorry to keep you all waiting," Althea said, seamlessly taking control of the conversation. She was in her element, navigating the room with ease.

Whether addressing the film crew or the actors, she knew exactly what to say and how to say it, exuding a natural confidence that demanded attention.

The air buzzed with anticipation as they gathered for a brief meeting, laying out the goals for the day. There was an unspoken understanding that today's shoot would be pivotal.

An hour later, as the first take loomed, tension thickened. Everyone was waiting eagerly—this was no ordinary scene. It was one of the most significant takes in the entire production.

At the center of it all was Ross Oakley, seated firmly in the hot seat. This would be his trial by fire, the moment that would determine whether he had any real acting chops.

Whispers had already circulated about him—some doubted his ability, others were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. One thing was certain: he had a mountain to climb.

Not only was he stepping into an industry known for its brutal scrutiny, but he also lacked the effortless good looks that often paved the way for rising stars.

Acting, however, wasn't just about appearance—it was about skill, presence, and the ability to command a scene.

Richard leaned slightly toward Cate, lowering his voice. "Here's the moment of truth. Can the boss act as well as his wife?"

Cate smirked, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don't know, but no matter how this ends, I'm pretty excited to find out."

The two of them stuck close. Beyond Althea—who was undoubtedly the biggest name in the room—Richard and Cate were the next in line when it came to star power.

The others, while talented in their own right, were mostly supporting actors, faces that might be familiar to avid moviegoers but not household names.

Their presence was important, but they didn't carry the weight of headliners like Richard and Cate.

As the set was prepared, a hush fell over the room. Crew members moved swiftly, making last-minute adjustments to the lighting and camera angles.

The director signaled for silence. The anticipation was almost suffocating. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on Ross.

The camera flickered to life.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still.

Then, Ross took his first step into the world of acting.

Would he rise to the occasion, or would this be the moment that exposed him as nothing more than a man out of his depth?

Everyone watched, waiting for the answer.

***

"Life is boring," Ross muttered, gazing down at the sprawling city below.

From his vantage point atop the tallest building, the streets, cars, and people seemed like mere specks, moving about in their own little worlds, oblivious to his existence.

He was dressed impeccably in a tailored business suit, the sharp lines of the fabric complementing his composed, authoritative demeanor.

The crispness of his attire gave him an air of refinement, of power, but the man himself… he was tired.

Not physically, not in the way a long workday might exhaust someone, but in a way that settled deep into the soul.

His features, handsome yet cold, carried an unreadable expression at first glance—but if one looked closer, if one truly paid attention, they would see it.

The weariness.

The emptiness.

It was a single line—just one sentence—but the weight behind it carried more than words ever could. There was no dramatic inflection, no forced emotion.

Instead, his voice was subdued, hollow, as if whatever fire once burned within him had long since been extinguished. His eyes, distant and devoid of light, told a story beyond the script. It was raw. It was real.

A sharp inhale broke the silence.

"Oh... my... god..." someone whispered, barely able to contain their shock.

There was a quiet shuffle, the kind that came when people involuntarily moved closer, as though afraid to blink and miss something monumental.

But then, as if collectively realizing they were still filming, the crew hushed themselves, forcing their reactions into silence.

The camera continued rolling, capturing every flicker of emotion that passed through Ross's face before the director finally called out—

"Cut!"

For a moment, no one spoke.

The air was thick with something indescribable. The usual post-cut chatter, the small adjustments, the comments from the director—none of it came.

Instead, there was only stunned silence as everyone tried to process what they had just witnessed.

They had expected something decent, perhaps even good if they were lucky. But this? This was different.

This was magic.

They had seen great actors before, professionals who spent years honing their craft.

Yet, somehow, Ross—who had walked into this production as an unproven talent—had delivered something that made the world around them fade, something so authentic that it felt as though they were watching a man standing at the edge of his own existence.

He had drawn them in, wrapped them in his grief, his detachment, his despair—until, for a moment, it felt as though they, too, were staring down at a city that no longer mattered.

Then, just as effortlessly as he had pulled them into his character's pain, Ross broke the spell.

A small, almost boyish smile tugged at his lips. He turned toward Althea, his usual confidence returning in an instant.

"Did I do good?" he asked.

Althea blinked. She had known—she had always known—he had potential, but even she was momentarily speechless.

Then, her lips curled into a slow, proud smile.

"You did more than good, dear. You were amazing." Her voice was warm, filled with admiration.

That was all it took.

The moment shattered, giving way to an explosion of applause. The tension that had gripped the set moments ago dissolved into excited energy as the cast and crew erupted in cheers and praise.

"Wow! That was an incredible first take, Ross!"

"I agree! I couldn't believe how good of an actor he is. Did you secretly take acting lessons before coming here?"

"This movie is going to be a huge hit!"