Hell's Actor

Chapter 262: Summer Child

"And the award goes to..."Again, the amber-eyed actor stood up.

"...Averie Quinn Auclair, for the role of The Lady."

Again, he walked onto the stage.

Again, he stood by the pulpit.

Again, the announcers shook his hand.

Again, the audience clapped, perhaps more enthusiastically than before.

Best Supporting Performance, the golden ink on the glass plaque of his award read.

The board had deemed The Lady as a supporting role, which—although a shame—seemed fair to many.

After all, it was difficult to accept that something so horrifyingly beautiful could be nothing more than a supporting role.

If not for that, many thought Olivier Claude and Josephine Petite had a chance of winning it.

Regardless, winning more than one award at such a rare festival was an exceptional feat.

Serenes did not categorize their awards by gender, which meant very few of the acting awards on this particular day went to actors that weren’t named Averie Quinn Auclair.

Outstanding Contribution to Cinema.

No other actor had ever climbed the stairs to the stage of the Serenes so many times. It was a feat in and of itself. But there was something even more unexpected.

Extraordinary Excellence in Artform.

Conceived to honor the legacy of Culture and Collapse and its creator—Gene Conti—it was an award that was motioned to be scrapped by the board, largely due to not a single entity qualifying for it in the history of the festival.

It was an award that should’ve been forgotten—an award that was never awarded, bound for rare mentions in film archives.

"It would be disingenuous, disrespectful, and shameful not to award it when excellence beyond human ability has been achieved for the first time in the history of the festival," the announcers explained.

It was a unique honor that no one could wish to replicate, which naturally invited envy and disgruntled stares.

’How could they give out an award that was retired in every way but official? All that was left was to stamp the papers.’

That was the main argument—an argument that remained mostly in the minds of actors. Speaking it out loud would no doubt invite scrutiny.

Yet Averie, the recipient of the award, remained unimpressed. Despite technically winning the bet with Lucifer, he didn’t seem relieved or emotional.

He was not one bit emotional.

It was his fourth award of the night, something that had never happened before in the history of the festival.

Yet the only thing that seemed to matter to him was the song stuck in his head. It was all he could focus on.

It had him so transfixed that the ceremony seemed to play out like a very oddly paced motion picture to him.

It looked like colors were thrown around, lights stretched, and voices zoomed by him like the engine of some futuristic car.

Too many times, he shook hands. How many times he didn’t, he couldn’t remember.

Throughout the ceremony, Lady Ethereal won award after award—thirteen by the time Jean-Louis-Groux’s name came around.

Four of those awards belonged to Averie, and Josephine took joy in holding them.

Thanks to The Lady’s beautiful dress, they won the Best Costume Design. Best Production Design, Best Makeup and Hair, and Best Original Music added nicely to the haul.

When the Director Groux won Best Direction, he delivered a speech thanking his wife more than anyone else.

It was the fourteenth award.

And finally, it was time for the big one.

Best Picture.

At this point, there was no curiosity—only anticipation for the obvious.

"...Lady Ethereal!" announced the old actress onstage.

It was the fifteenth award.

The cast and crew, most holding an award each, stood on the inviting stage.

It felt so comfortable and so right, as if there was no questioning the results.

And no matter how sincerely the director praised the crew and the cast, every single gaze in that room beheld the actor for whom the stage seemed to have been made, the one who looked the most picturesque under the burning lights, the centerpiece of Lady Ethereal—a man whose name was unheard of only a year ago.

The youngest actor to win Best Leading Performance at Serenes.

The only actor to win four individual awards at the prestigious festival.

The only one to ever win Extraordinary Excellence in Artform.

The only one to ever charm every single festival-goer and cinephile across a city as large as Berlin.

The only one to have so profoundly shocked the global film industry.

Although man, called ’The Quinn.’

Although dead, still living.

Lunatic more than eccentric.

Averie Quinn Auclair.

***

Sitting in their favorite café, like every other foreigner, Hyerin and Min-Ha watched the television.

"He looks... bored."

Hyerin turned to Min-Ha. "Yeah. I was hoping he wouldn’t."

"Makeup can’t help a face that dispassionate."

The younger woman sighed. "What can we do? Everyone expected him to win, just not as much. I have never seen a new actor acting so casual about winning a major award."

"Narcissism helps, I’m sure."

"Don’t call him that. He’s... just a little odd."

Min-Ha scoffed. "Sure, let’s call it that."

Before Hyerin could retort, her smartphone interrupted.

"It’s Ari," she whispered, holding the vibrating phone.

She could guess what the younger girl had to relay—praise and congratulations she could never sincerely deliver directly to her cousin.

Those two were cute in that way.

Hyerin’s eyes glazed over, the phone quietly vibrating in her hand.

She recalled a time when her friend was cute, lacking the bold, delinquent demeanor he now held.

She was little, then...

When the summer eve’s warm winds blew.

When the golden sunset brought a new set of cherub cheeks, a pair of doe eyes, and a quiet voice to her little town.

Effortlessly and innocently, he had managed to draw her to him.

Back then, she knew they would be good friends for a long time.

And now, he wasn’t that young boy anymore.

The innocence from back then had given way to something darker, perhaps salacious.

A struggle he had seen himself through had erased the essence of the boy from her favorite summer’s eve.

But even now, just as effortlessly, he drew her innocent eyes to him.

And this time, she wasn’t the only one to witness the bright shine of his amber eyes.

The world was watching him.

A small percentage of the human population.

Millions upon millions.

People whose names she would never know. Eyes she would never meet. Voices that she would never hear.

They were all watching the boy shining under the golden lights, just as she had years prior.

The shy, summer child from back then had become a star.