Yory walked down the street wearing flashy clothes and neatly styled hair, looking at his phone while checking the messages. He was talking to someone whose contact was saved as "Director Plan A."
The messages said:
Yory — I saw that you're hiring rookie actors, can I apply for the position?Director A — It depends. First I need to know about you. How about telling me a bit?Yory — Sure. Let's meet somewhere.Director A — Go to this address. I'll be waiting there.
When he arrived, Yory stopped in front of a café.The place was more sophisticated than he expected.
He put his phone away.His left hand stayed in his pocket. His right, free.
He walked in.
The place was empty.Only the sound of a cloth sliding over glass.
A man in a suit with a monocle cleaned glasses behind the counter.Another sat there, staring at his own coffee.
Yory approached and sat beside him.
— Two points.
Yory turned his face.
— Two points?
The man with the blue cap didn't look at him.
— You put your phone away before coming in… — he said, stirring his coffee.— And you left your dominant hand free.
He took a small sip.
— Respect… or precaution.
Yory didn't answer.His eyes moved across the bottles behind the counter.
— I'm not interested in acting — he said, bluntly.— I just want recognition.
The man let out a faint sound through his nose, almost a laugh.
— So you think getting on a stage solves that?
— It's one of the most effective ways.
This time, the man stayed silent for a few seconds.
— I don't see anything in you.
Now he looked.
— No talent… no presence.
Yory held his gaze.
— I know.
The silence between them didn't break.
— You didn't look at my face since I walked in — Yory continued.— So you were already expecting that answer.
The man tilted his head slightly.
— Even so… — Yory went on — you still think you can judge me?
Now the man turned fully toward him.
— What's your objective?
Yory didn't hesitate.
— I'm looking for someone.— And I need to reach the Elites for that.
The man stared at him for a few seconds, as if measuring something invisible.
Then he looked away.
— Name.
— Yory Madeira.
— Age.
— Fifteen. Sixteen in September.
— Just Madeira?
— Just.
The man stayed silent.Then he took a card from his pocket and placed it on the table.
— Hijiro Nanaji. Director.
He pushed the card slightly.
— Show up tomorrow.
Yory took the card and stood up.
Before leaving, he glanced back…and walked away.
The door closed.
Hijiro stared at nothing for a few seconds.
— Looks like a clone of that bastard…
he muttered.
His eyes fell on the nearly empty coffee.
— If he acts like him…
A faint smile appeared.
— it might be worth it.
He rested his chin on his hand.
— Yory Madeira… surprise me.
Yory walked back home under the midday sun.With his phone in hand, he scrolled through the contacts until he found a specific name.
Kaiobe de Oliveira.
Without hesitation, he called.
It took a few seconds to be answered.
— Hey… calling me at this hour? You know I'm busy…
— You're probably on your break, leaning against some wall in the studio… smoking. — Yory replied.
On the other side, there was a small pause.
— Sometimes I'm scared of you, you know? — the man said, letting out a light laugh. — You always know exactly what people are doing… so, how was the interview?
Yory kept walking along the sidewalk, watching the cars pass.
— Seems like I got his attention. Tomorrow I'll do an audition to get a role in the play.
— You talk like any role is already yours.
On the other end of the line, a man with blond hair, black eyes, and glasses, leaning against a wall, brought the cigarette to his mouth and slowly exhaled.
— You're really bizarre, you know that? When you called me yesterday… I was surprised.
A pause.
— After your mother passed… I completely lost contact with your family. So it was a shock getting your call, out of nowhere… asking about work in the acting industry.
His tone changed slightly.
— By any chance… are you planning something inside the industry?
Yory didn't answer.
The silence lasted long enough…
…until his mind pulled a memory.
— Aunt… do you still have that director's contact?
She looked at him, confused.
— I do… it's saved on the old phone. Why?
— I need to talk to him about work.
Jyan watched Yory for a few seconds.
Then she sighed and went to the bedroom, returning with an old phone in her hands. She handed it to him.
— Just don't be reckless with what you plan to do. The password is 72190.
Yory unlocked the device — the battery showed 15%.
Without wasting time, he searched for the contact.
He called.
It rang.
And then…
— Hello? This is director Kaiobe de Oliveira. Who is this?
— Good evening, director. This is Yory… Yory Madeira.
— Yory? — there was a small silence. — I don't remember. Can you be more direct? I'm too busy for random calls—
— Son of the actress Yadia Madeira. — Yory interrupted. — The actress who passed away in 2021.
A pause.
— I'm Yory Madeira… Conceição.
On the other side, silence came instantly.
The cigarette fell from Kaiobe's hand.
He said nothing.
For several seconds.
Then, he gripped the phone tighter.
— …it's been a long time, Yory.
His voice came out different.
— What is this call about?
— Weren't you busy?
— This can wait. — he answered too quickly. — Speak, what do you want?
— Recognition. Fast.
A small pause.
— I want you to help me get in as an actor.
Kaiobe let out a sigh, already lighting another cigarette.
— You talk like it's simple.
— That's exactly why I need your help.
Silence.
— Recommend me to someone. That's enough. The rest… I'll handle.
Kaiobe stayed quiet for a few seconds.
— Do you even realize the kind of place you're trying to enter?
— I do.
— Once you get in… there's no going back.
— I know.
Another pause.
Longer.
Then…
— Alright. — said Kaiobe. — I'll refer you to someone I met at a directors' party.
He slowly exhaled the smoke.
— A Japanese man… famous in theater. Extremely strict with who he recruits.
A brief pause.
— His name is…
— Hijiro Nanaji.
Back to the present, Yory looks at the phone and answers, serious:
— It's a secret.
A few seconds pass.
A man dressed in black, with audio equipment and an earpiece, approaches Kaiobe.
— Mr. Kaiobe, recording will resume in five minutes.
Kaiobe exhales cigarette smoke, pressing the tip against the wall to put it out.
— Alright… I have work to do. See you, Yory. — he makes a small pause. — And good luck in the play.
Another pause.
— And you know what? If you get cast… I'll be in the front row, watching you. So I expect to see something… divine.
A light silence.
— Goodbye.
The call ends.
Yory stares at the phone screen.
Expressionless.
— "If"…? — he murmurs.
A short pause.
— You really didn't understand, did you?
His eyes remain cold.
— I will be in that play.
The memories from the previous night return.
— So that's it… I'll recommend you to him, right?
— Understood. Do it.
— Alright. Now I'll go back to work. In about five hours I'll send you his contact. Goodbye.
— Goodbye.
Yory looks at the old phone in his hands.
His fingers slowly slide through the contacts.
— This was my mother's phone…
Silence.
— She kept changing devices because of work… so that means…
He keeps scrolling down the list.
Until he stops.
A number marked as favorite.
Without changing his expression, he taps the screen.
Calling.
The phone rings.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then—
— The number you are trying to reach does not exist. Please try again.
The silence of that night echoes.
And, for a moment…
it seems to cross time.
Back to the present, Yory lifts his gaze to the sky.
His expression remains empty.
— Don't worry…
A small pause.
— We'll still meet again.
Another silence.
— Face to face.
At the Peleno mansion, in Anano's room—
She was sitting on a chair, with a handwritten script open on her lap.A pen spun between her fingers as she circled some words.
Beside her, Moyaso watched, standing.
— I'm surprised you're interested in acting. When you asked me to talk to my family's contacts in the entertainment industry… I was honestly shocked.
— Why, exactly?
Moyaso crosses her arms.
— Do you really want me to say it?
Without waiting for an answer, she continues:
— You have a huge ego to act with low-level people. You're extremely narcissistic. You've always had everything handed to you. You never admit weakness… and you've never shown any interest in this—
— OKAY, I GET IT!
Anano raises her voice, irritated.
The room falls silent for a moment.
She takes a deep breath… and turns her eyes back to the script.
— To reach my goal… I need a real name.
The pen stops.
— A name that is recognized everywhere.
A short pause.
— So that finally…
She doesn't finish.
Moyaso looks at her firmly.
— I understand. — she says, coldly. — I have high expectations.
— You better.
The answer comes dry.
The atmosphere grows heavy.
Moyaso clenches her hands, her face filled with irritation.
— I'm doing the dirty work, going after my family's contacts… and that's how you thank me?
Anano doesn't look at her.
Her eyes remain fixed on the script.
But now…
more serious.
Deeper.
—
"This has to work…"
—
"My future depends on this."
—
"I'll show them…"
—
"Especially that director…"
—
"Hijiro Nanaji."
—
The pen presses against the paper.
—
"After all these years…"
—
"acting as the perfect daughter of a perfect family…"
—
She slightly raises her gaze.
Her eyes are cold.
Determined.
—
— I'll show…
A pause.
—
— how acting is really done.
Inside an office—
Shelves full of books covered the walls.A clock ticked silently.At the center, a luxurious wooden desk.
Sitting there, a man wore refined clothes.An earring shined on his right ear.
He was on the phone.
— You're really good at hiding things from your family, aren't you? — said the voice on the other side. — The typical perfect father… of a perfect family.
A brief silence.
— Just say what you want.
The scene cuts.
On the other side of the call—
A man sat in a luxurious armchair.Only his hand was visible.
A golden watch wrapped around his wrist as he held the phone.
— You know exactly what I want… — he said, calmly. — Just get the money.
A pause.
— Before I change my mind about "that."
Back to the office—
— Don't rush me. I'm arranging it as fast as possible. — his voice comes out controlled. — Do you really think three billion reais fall from the sky?
— Whether it falls from the sky or not… I want the money.
A small pause.
— Or do you plan to stall a bit more?
— Do you really think I would be capable of stalling someone like you?
A light laugh from the other side.
— I don't think…
Silence.
— I'm sure.
The voice sharpens.
— After all… the most famous among all the rich families in the world… is a first-class liar, isn't he?
A pause.
The name comes like a blow:
— Toboei Peleno.
The call ends.
The man in the office remains still for a moment.
Then—
— But of course…
He slowly places the phone on the table.
— It's exactly these lies…
His eyes harden.
— that keep elite society at the top.
A pause.
His voice drops, filled with contempt.
— You piece of shit.