C06
Shane had one rule: Everyone on the filming team must read the script.
At first, people only followed it half–heartedly, but over time, it became essential.
Even the lighting and makeup artists could see the issues with the scenes. So there was no way Shane didn’t
notice them too.
“Fix the makeup. Reshoot the scene.”
“No. Next scene.”
“Change it again. This scene was meant for Joann.”
Why not just finish the whole movie and write her name in the credits?
Just like before.
Good thing I’m dead.
Death comes with a lot of freedom.
While Harriet changed outfits, the screenwriter finally couldn’t hold back.
“Director, we’ve shot everything we can…”
“Then let’s stop here for today. We’ll resume filming when Joann comes back.”
But the night had fallen.
And my body had gotten cold.
He kept mentioning me during Harriet’s scenes, but not once did he truly worry about me.
“Joann isn’t coming back.”
Ruth’s swollen eyes were red as she stumbled onto the set.
“Joann is dead. The police just confirmed it.”
She hurled the report at Shane’s face.
“One body, two lives–how the hell can you call yourself human?”
“I should’ve realized something was wrong. She couldn’t stand sour food before, but now she was hoarding bags of dried plums. It’s my fault. I was too slow. I should’ve protected her.”
“Give her movie back. Give her life back.”
“Why did you push her to death just because she loved you?”
Ruth, who once hid behind me whenever Shane was around, now stood in front of him, throwing punch after
punch.
When she finally collapsed to her knees, exhausted, she sobbed uncontrollably.
But I couldn’t hold her. No matter how much I wanted to.
8.58 AM
Fought for His Love but Remained Second Best
So I simply sat beside her and cried, too.
Then Shane… laughed.
“Impossible. She promised me.”
He turned, walking slowly toward the crew’s trash bin.
“She wouldn’t leave me.”
The ever–composed director knelt down and began digging through the trash with his bare hands.
He searched relentlessly, fingers clawing through scraps of paper and discarded props.
But when he reached the bottom and still found nothing, his hands trembled.
“Why can’t I find it? Why… can’t I find it?”
His lips were still curled into a hollow smile, but his voice cracked with tears.
Because some things, once lost, are nearly impossible to get back.
Shane didn’t go to his birthday party.
Instead, he went to the river.
From the spot upstream where I had jumped, he walked all the way down to where my body had been found.
The wind was sharp, and the sparse stars overhead did little to guide him.
He stumbled several times, dirt clinging to his clothes, his body covered in mud.
But he didn’t stop.
He just kept walking–faster, faster.
As if, by moving quickly enough, he could still find me.
When the river yielded nothing, he went to the city’s largest landfill.
The poor security guard, exhausted by Shane’s relentless knocking, finally gave in and unlocked the gate in the dead of night.
“Young man, what exactly did you lose?”
“An amulet.”
“You mean just a piece of red cloth? Why not just get another one? What’s the point of looking for it here?” “It’s different.”
The old man sighed.
“Alright, alright. The northeast pile came from your area. If you’re really that determined, check there.”
“Thank you.”
The guard watched as Shane, barely able to stand, dragged himself toward the heap of trash with unwavering determination.
“Hah… This kid’s really something. Who else would take on a task as hopeless as finding a needle in a haystack?”
