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Unlike big-name Hollywood actors—who prefer luxury trailers as their private lounges—Kingo's dressing room was a lavish tent.
Inside were a vanity table, cabinets filled with cosmetics, two large racks of costumes, and a small table with three chairs for discussions and work. The tabletop was piled with production materials: script pages, storyboards, shooting schedules, and more.
Henry was invited inside.
Karan Patel immediately resumed his duties as a proper steward.
After clearing the table and pouring a cup of milk tea into fine porcelain for his master, Karan turned and asked, "Mr. Brown, would you prefer black tea, milk tea, or coffee?"
"Black tea. No sugar, please."
Still happily stroking Katie's head with his back to Henry, Kingo said, "Black tea is good—but you should try the milk tea. It tastes better."
"One shouldn't take what another favors," Henry replied with a smile.
In truth, he had already noticed something.
Though high-grade black tea, milk tea, and coffee had all been prepared, the milk tea quantity was noticeably smaller. That meant Kingo preferred milk tea, while the others were for guests.
Moreover, Kingo was drinking authentic English milk tea—not Indian masala chai with spices and herbs. English milk tea is brewed directly with milk instead of adding milk to tea afterward. The difference in flavor was profound.
But Henry, long resigned to America's abundance of good coffee and scarcity of good tea, had no intention of drinking anything else in India—a major tea-producing country.
Though Indian black tea is fermented, unlike green tea that relies solely on heat processing, the aroma rising from the cup was the first scent in India that Henry not only tolerated—but genuinely enjoyed.
He took a slow sip of the deep amber liquid.
The fruity aroma was sharp, reminiscent of citrus peel. The finish lingered pleasantly, with layers of flavor touching the front, middle, and back of the tongue. The returning sweetness was something cheap tea could never achieve.
As he savored it, it felt as though all forty trillion cells in his body had awakened.
"Which region is this from?"
Kingo turned his head with a smile. "Nilgiri. One of India's three major tea regions. But because its climate resembles Sri Lanka's, it doesn't have the same global reputation as Ceylon tea."
When facing a wild predator, one should never break eye contact—it signals fear. If the animal is hungry, that's practically an invitation to be attacked.
Yet Kingo turned his back on Katie as though she posed no threat. His hand continued stroking her casually, without force or restraint.
In short—
He truly wasn't afraid.
If he wasn't reckless or foolishly brave, then there was only one explanation:
He had the strength not to fear a tiger.
In the film version, Kingo was portrayed as a sharpshooter. But the Eternals were no ordinary beings.
In the comics, even without considering individual specializations, the average Eternal possessed fifteen-ton strength, flight capability, cosmic energy manipulation, molecular-level control, plus self-healing and regeneration as baseline traits.
They were, collectively, a race of supermen.
For reference—
Thanos—the Mad Titan, also known as the purple sweet potato demon—was classified in the comics as an Eternal.
He was a second-generation Eternal born on Titan, genetically flawed and exiled. That rejection shaped his destructive philosophy.
In the films, however, Thanos belonged to the Titan race, whose civilization collapsed due to resource depletion after rejecting his plan to eliminate half their population.
In the comics, Titan's people were second-generation Eternals—not first-generation beings created directly by the Celestials.
Using Thanos as a benchmark, Henry mentally elevated Kingo's threat level several tiers.
"This tea truly lives up to its reputation," Henry said lightly. "You know how it is in America—good tea isn't easy to find."
"Even for the CEO of Stark Pictures?" Kingo teased. "Perhaps you're modest compared to the Hollywood Eight, but your company's assets—and your salary—surely exceed that of most Americans."
"A year ago, I was still scraping by at the bottom. The best job I had was serving others. If I wanted access to high-end things, I had to sneak around. I didn't care to make trouble, so I mostly avoided them. Only now can I enjoy such things openly."
During his time assisting Audrey Hepburn, his food and lodging had matched hers.
But she was never extravagant. Her preferences leaned toward health and freshness—not ostentatious luxury.
Those who think that's the same as top-tier indulgence fall into two categories:
Either they've never tasted true luxury.
Or they've been fooled by marketing façades.
The tea and coffee Kingo served were rare masterpieces—from cultivation to brewing, every stage handled with meticulous care.
India's poverty was real—but so was the unimaginable luxury of its wealthy elite.
Kingo raised an eyebrow at Henry's self-deprecation.
"In that year, no one offered tribute?"
"I spent most of it buried in research. Those who tried to approach me before I'd proven anything weren't investors. They were opportunists."
"I see. Forgive me. No one dares attempt deception in front of me."
"Film dynasty, after all. Fifth-generation head, hm?"
Henry's brow lifted meaningfully.
Kingo released Katie's head and returned to the small table, taking a sip of milk tea.
Calmly, he said, "Before we proceed—I need to know where you learned that word."
Henry answered evenly.
"Most of the written records of the Maya civilization were destroyed. But scholars still study what remains, trying to reconstruct history through oral traditions in South America.
"There's a book titled Curiosities of South America that mentions a rainforest settlement ruled by 'Eternals.' A paradise without conflict. The ruler was said to be immortal—or perhaps a hereditary title passed down.
"But others describe it as a place from which no one returns—a cannibal land. The account appears alongside tribal legends.
"With no solid evidence, only eyewitness claims, most scholars dismiss it—like the Loch Ness Monster or the Yeti."
The most crucial clue, of course, came from Henry's pre-reincarnation memories of the films.
But that part would remain unspoken.
The book he referenced did exist in this world—and it did contain vague references to Eternals.
Back when Henry had been researching global love legends, he'd read widely across cultures. Even then, he'd noticed how frequently the term "Eternals" appeared in obscure folklore.
Usually just rumors. No proof.
Now—
It served perfectly as his justification.
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