When washing his hands, Brian Foster suddenly felt a bit dizzy. He shook his head and turned off the faucet; the metallic reflection was a bit harsh on the eyes. His vision dimmed all at once, and his legs began to weaken. He immediately pressed his hands against the marble countertop, supporting himself.

He really should have eaten before coming over.

Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing, someone walked out of a stall and stood next to him to wash their hands.

With a hypoglycemic episode, Brian Foster could barely lift his head. He tilted slightly, slowly shuffling his steps, his right shoulder leaning against the wall, his whole body relying on it for support.

Luckily, he had just bought the system’s black-hearted candy—what perfect timing.

He reached into his pocket for the small candy jar, gripping the body with his left hand and twisting the lid with his right.

It wouldn’t open.

He could hear the constant sound of running water beside him.

Gritting his teeth, he tried again, but his hands had no strength at all; it still wouldn’t open.

Black-hearted system, black-hearted candy.

Brian Foster didn’t even have the energy to complain about the system now.

The water finally stopped, followed by the sound of tissues being pulled out, then the rustling of dry paper towels against fingers, echoing over and over in Brian Foster’s dizzy mind, making his ears ring.

A wad of tissue was tossed into the trash bin.

This person was about to leave.

Even though his legs could barely support him, Brian Foster’s consciousness remained; he was just struggling.

With no other choice, he reached out his left hand and grabbed the arm of the person about to leave the restroom.

“Sorry, could you help me open this?”

The other person’s steps paused. From under the brim of his cap, Brian Foster could only see the person’s lower body—a pair of long, straight legs in suit pants. The person didn’t take his candy jar.

On the verge of fainting, Brian Foster’s hand, which had been holding the arm, dropped weakly. He grabbed the other’s wrist, placed his candy jar in their hand, and spoke in a feeble voice.

“Help me.”

After a brief silence.

The other person finally seemed to agree, reaching out to take the small candy jar from Brian Foster’s hand. With a click, the jar was opened and handed back to him. The person’s fingers were long and elegant, very attractive.

Brian Foster took the jar and murmured a thank you. The next moment, he collapsed to the floor, tilting his head back to pour the colorful candies into his mouth. He didn’t look like he was eating candy—more like popping pills.

The sugar rush brought a sensation of blood flowing back through his veins. Brian Foster’s numb limbs slowly regained strength. After sitting for a while, it seemed the other person still wasn’t planning to leave.

If he fainted here, it would be over. This person had really helped him out; he’d have to thank them properly later.

Brian Foster was about to use the wall to stand up when he suddenly realized his field of vision had widened.

The man who opened the jar had taken off his baseball cap.

Sitting on the floor, Brian Foster looked up and saw a face that could only be described as extremely handsome. The man tilted his head, looking at him with a half-smile.

The moment their eyes met, for some reason—maybe a creator’s intuition about his own work—he immediately knew that the person in front of him was Adam Bennett.

An awkward first meeting, an awkward plea for help, an awkward posture.

Most awkward of all, his mouth was still stuffed full of fruit hard candies.

Assorted flavors, both sour and sweet.

Author’s note:

0901: Mr. Foster, go for it, use your looks to win him over.

Brian Foster: Mm! [fist pump]

Adam Bennett: You’ll find out soon enough who’s winning over whom. [killer look]

Brian Foster: Hey, someone’s fighting me for the mission.

Chapter 3: The Ultimate Showdown of Looks and Acting (Part 3)

Just as Brian Foster was caught off guard, Emily Thompson’s voice came from outside.

“Ethan? Ethan? Are you in there?”

“Yeah!” Like grabbing a lifeline, Brian Foster answered with candy in his mouth, quickly got up, glanced at the man in front of him, bowed, and said, “Thank you.” Then he walked out.

“What were you doing? You scared me to death.” Emily Thompson pulled Brian Foster forward, her high heels clicking rapidly.

Female staff nearby looked delighted, whispering Ethan Carter’s name. Only then did Brian Foster realize his cap was still in that man’s hand.

Instinctively, Brian Foster looked back. Adam Bennett happened to be coming out of the restroom. Their eyes met, and Adam Bennett raised the black baseball cap in his hand, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

Brian Foster turned back and asked, “Will Adam Bennett really be in the audition room later?”

Emily Thompson: “Yeah, the actors who auditioned before all saw him.” Worried Brian Foster would be nervous, Emily Thompson reassured him, “Don’t worry, Adam Bennett may have become famous young, but he’s got a good temper and isn’t stuck-up at all.”

Brian Foster didn’t feel comforted at all. This was a character he’d created; he knew better than anyone what kind of person this seemingly gentle and kind young movie star really was. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to create a smiling tiger persona?

But the way Adam Bennett’s appearance matched the character’s design felt oddly familiar…

Seeing him spacing out, Emily Thompson quickly told him to snap out of it. “Hurry up and get ready, you’re up next. Do you want to take the script in with you?”

Brian Foster shook his head. “No need.”